Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 10

Elena: POV

I could feel the baby—our baby—like a secret burning through my skin.

"I told you," I managed, my voice shaking. "It's just a stomach bug. I've been stressed with work, not sleeping well—"

"Don't lie to me." His thumb traced my cheekbone, and God help me, I wanted to lean into that touch. Wanted to believe it meant something. "You've been pale for days. You can barely keep food down. And now you're avoiding the hospital like it's—"

"Julian, please." I pulled back, breaking the contact, my hands pressed against his chest. "I'm fine. Really. I just need rest."

His eyes searched mine, gray and intense and seeing too much. For a moment, I thought he might push harder. Might drag me to that hospital and force the truth into the open.

Then his phone rang.

The ringtone cut through the tension—some generic corporate melody. Julian's jaw tightened. He pulled back, straightening in his seat, his mask sliding back into place.

"Blake," he said, answering with a clipped tone. "What is it?"

I couldn't hear the other side clearly, but I caught fragments: "...just got back..." "...you need to come..." "...important..."

Julian's expression shifted. Surprise, then something darker. "Lucas is back? When?"

More murmuring from the phone. Julian glanced at me, then away, his hand running through his hair.

"I'll be there in twenty," he said finally. Then, after a pause: "Yeah. The club."

He ended the call and turned to me. For a second, his face held that same complicated expression from earlier—like he was wrestling with something he couldn't name.

"Change of plans," he said quietly. "I need to take care of something."

Relief flooded through me so fast I felt dizzy. "Okay."

He studied me for another long moment, then reached out. His hand touched my hair, fingers brushing through the strands before settling on top of my head in an oddly gentle gesture.

"Go to the hospital," he said softly. "Get checked out. Don't brush this off, Elena. If you're sick, you need to get treatment."

My throat tightened. *If only you knew.*

"I will," I lied.

"Promise me." His hand moved to cup my face again, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Don't make me worry, okay?"

*Worry.* The word hit me like a punch. Since when did Julian Sterling worry about me?

"I promise," I whispered.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. It was brief, almost chaste, but it made my heart twist painfully.

"I have to go," he said, pulling back. "But we're not done with this conversation. Understand?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He started the car again, pulling back onto the road. We drove in silence for another ten minutes until the lights of New York-Presbyterian came into view. He pulled up to the main entrance, the Bentley idling smoothly.

"Go," he said, his voice firm. "And text me when you're done."

"Julian—"

"Elena." He turned to look at me, and there was something in his eyes I couldn't quite read. "Just... take care of yourself."

I swallowed hard and nodded. Then I got out of the car, standing on the curb as he drove away, taillights disappearing into the Manhattan night.

---

I stood there for a full minute after he left, just breathing. The hospital entrance glowed behind me, all glass and light and false promises of healing.

I wasn't going in. There was no point.

I already knew what they'd tell me. *Congratulations, Mrs. Sterling. You're pregnant.*

And then what? They'd want to schedule prenatal appointments. Ask about the father. Start making plans for a baby that could never exist in Julian's world.

*"You're not worthy of carrying my child."*

His words echoed in my head, sharp as broken glass.

I turned away from the hospital and started walking.

---

The October air bit at my skin through my coat, but I didn't care. I needed to move, to think, to figure out what the fuck I was going to do.

My feet carried me through Midtown, past tourists and late-night workers, until I found myself on a quieter street in Chelsea. The neon sign ahead stopped me in my tracks.

**Paws & Whiskers Café**

The cat café. My refuge. The place I came when the mansion felt too empty and Julian's absence too loud.

Through the window, I could see the warm glow of lamps, the soft movement of cats lounging on perches and weaving between tables. A few customers sat inside, reading or working on laptops while cats draped themselves across laps and keyboards.

I pushed open the door. The bell chimed softly, and the familiar scent of coffee and cat toys washed over me.

"Elena!" The owner, a round-faced woman named Marie, looked up from behind the counter. "Haven't seen you in a while, honey. How've you been?"

"Busy," I managed, forcing a smile. "Just needed some quiet time."

"Well, you came to the right place." She gestured to the empty corner booth. "Your usual spot's open. I'll bring you some chamomile tea. On the house."

"Thanks, Marie."

I made my way to the booth and sank into the cushioned seat. Almost immediately, a familiar orange tabby jumped up beside me—Milo, my favorite.

He butted his head against my hand, purring loudly. I scratched behind his ears, and some of the tension in my chest eased.

"Hey, buddy," I whispered. "Missed you too."

Milo settled into my lap, kneading my thighs with his paws. The rhythmic motion was soothing, grounding. I closed my eyes and just let myself *be* for the first time in days.

Marie brought the tea, setting it down gently. "You look exhausted, sweetie. Everything okay?"

"Just work stress," I said, the lie coming easily now. "Nothing a little cat therapy can't fix."

She smiled knowingly. "That's what they're here for." She paused, glancing at Milo. "You know, he really has taken to you. Every time you come in, he makes a beeline for your table."

I stroked Milo's soft fur, feeling the vibration of his purr against my palm. "He's a good boy."

"I've been saying this for months, but seriously—you should adopt him. He's been here for over a year now. Nobody's taken him, and I think he'd be happiest with you."