Chapter 107 One Hundred And Seven
Austin parked across the street from Lucy's apartment. He sat in his car for a long moment, engine off, hands resting on the steering wheel.
He hadn’t called ahead.
He had meant to.
But the impulse to see Antonia had overridden reason.
He told himself he was simply checking in. Making sure she and the baby were well. Making sure she wasn’t carrying everything alone.
That had always been his role, hadn’t it?
He stepped out of the car and crossed the street, rehearsing a casual smile in his head. He knocked lightly.
Lucy answered on the second knock.
She looked surprised.
“Austin?”
“Hi,” he said, offering a small grin.
Lucy hesitated just for a fraction of a second.
That hesitation was enough.
“Is Antonia home?” he asked.
Lucy’s expression shifted into something he couldn’t quite read.
“She didn’t tell you?”
The words felt like a cold draft slipping under a door.
“Tell me what?”
Lucy opened the door wider, gesturing him inside. “Come in.”
Austin stepped into the apartment and immediately felt something was off.
It was quieter.
Emptier.
There were no baby supplies scattered across the living room. No folded blankets on the couch. No bassinet by the window.
He frowned.
“Where is everything?”
Lucy closed the door slowly.
“She moved.”
The word landed heavy.
“Moved?” he repeated, incredulous. “Where?”
Lucy studied him carefully, as though gauging how much to say.
“To the city.”
The city.
His stomach tightened.
“To be closer to Kennedy.”
Silence swallowed the room.
For a moment, Austin simply stared at her, as if he hadn’t processed the sentence correctly.
“What?” he asked, voice lower now.
Lucy folded her arms loosely, not defensive, just bracing.
“She relocated last week. Kennedy arranged an apartment. It’s… very nice.”
Very nice.
Of course it was.
Austin’s jaw flexed.
“So they are back together?”
Lucy’s eyes softened slightly. “They're just co-parenting.”
“I don't believe that.” he snapped, sharper than intended.
Lucy didn’t flinch. “She’s had a lot to manage.”
He let out a humorless breath and paced a few steps across the room.
“She just left.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like, Lucy?”
His voice wasn’t loud.
But it was tight.
Contained.
Dangerously so.
Lucy walked toward the kitchen counter and leaned against it.
“Kennedy wants to be present,” she said carefully. “He’s the father.”
“And I know that,” Austin shot back. “I’ve never disputed that.”
But his chest burned anyway.
Lucy watched him struggle.
“He offered stability,” she continued gently. “Support. A future.”
“And I didn’t?”
The question was raw.
Lucy hesitated again.
“You offered yourself,” she said quietly. “Kennedy offered a world.”
That stung more than anything else.
Austin turned away from her and stared out the window.
A world.
Money.
Influence.
Security.
He knew exactly what Kennedy could provide. He’d seen the kind of man he was. Calculated. Strategic. Always ten steps ahead.
“Did she seem happy?” he asked, voice barely above a murmur.
Lucy sighed.
“She seemed… conflicted.”
Conflicted.
Hope flickered painfully in his chest.
“Conflicted means she wasn’t sure,” he said.
Lucy didn’t respond immediately.
“She loves her baby,” Lucy said instead. “And she wants him to have everything.”
“And Kennedy is ‘everything’?”
“He’s the father.”
Austin clenched his fists.
“That doesn’t mean he’s the better man.”
Lucy’s eyes lifted sharply at that.
“I didn’t say that.”
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing again.
Lucy exhaled.
“Austin…”
He stopped pacing.
“Did she choose him?” he asked.
It was the only question that mattered.
Lucy held his gaze.
“She chose her baby's wellbeing.”
He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.
“So that’s it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It feels pretty simple.”
He walked toward the couch and sat down heavily, elbows resting on his knees.
For months, he had been patient.
Understanding.
He had stepped back when she needed distance. Stepped forward when she needed support.
He had held her when she cried about Kennedy. Listened when she tried to untangle feelings she claimed were long buried.
He had believed—truly believed—that what they were building was real.
Until their plans blew up in their faces, and somehow Antonia's feelings blew out too.
And now—
She was living in a high-rise apartment paid for by the father of her child.
Jealousy coiled slowly in his chest, tightening with every breath.
It wasn’t just about proximity.
It was about history.
Kennedy had known her before Austin did.
Kennedy had loved her first.
Kennedy had hurt her first.
And apparently, Kennedy still had the power to pull her back.
Austin stood again abruptly.
“I should’ve known.”
Lucy watched him carefully.
“Known what?”
“That it was never finished between them.”
Silence answered him.
He turned to face her fully.
“Tell me honestly,” he said. “If Kennedy hadn’t come back into the picture, would she have chosen me?”
Lucy’s expression faltered.
“I think she was trying to,” she admitted.
Trying.
The word echoed cruelly.
Austin swallowed hard.
He hated this feeling.
This raw, possessive, irrational surge that made him want to drive straight to the city and demand answers.
“I should’ve fought harder,” he muttered.
Lucy shook her head.
“She doesn’t need to be fought over like a trophy.”
“I know that.”
“Then what are you angry about?”
He stared at her, incredulous.
“You really have to ask?”
Lucy’s gaze softened.
“You’re angry she didn’t choose you.”
The simplicity of it stole his breath.
He turned away again.
Because she was right.
It wasn’t just jealousy.
It was anger.
Anger that he had been a placeholder.
A bridge between her past and her inevitable return to it.
Anger that everything tender between them had only existed because Kennedy wasn’t physically present.
“And what if he hurts her again?” Austin asked quietly.
Lucy’s voice was gentle. “Then she will survive it.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It may have to be.”
He closed his eyes briefly as silence stretched again.
Finally, Austin straightened.
“What’s the address?”
Lucy hesitated.
“Austin…”
“I’m not going to cause a scene,” he said. “I just need to see her.”
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to get it from Antonia."
Of course.
He nodded once.
“I understand,” he said firmly, then he walked toward the door, and opened it.
The late afternoon light felt harsher now.
More unforgiving.
He stepped outside and closed the door behind him slowly.
As he walked back to his car, jealousy simmered beneath the surface—but so did something deeper.
Determination.
If Antonia had chosen to try with Kennedy, he would respect it.
But he would not disappear quietly.
He started the engine.
And for the first time since hearing the news, his expression hardened—not with anger.
But with resolve.
He would get her new address.
He would find her.
No matter what it took.