Page 76 of Titus

“I don’t think I’ll be great conversation,” I said, honestly.

He chuckled lightly as I followed him into what could only be described as an elite gentlemen’s lounge.

“Good evening,” the sharp and attractive flight attendant greeted us. “I’m Meg, and I’m here for anything you may need during the flight.”

“Thanks, Meg,” Wyatt flashed her a flirty grin. “Would you please prepare us a charcuterie board.” He looked at me. “Any preferences for drinks?”

“I’ll just have a glass of red wine,” I answered.

“Anything else to eat?” Meg asked me.

“No, charcuterie sounds perfect. Thank you.”

Wyatt and I settled into our seats while Meg disappeared into the cockpit. I sank into the buttery leather as the engines roared to life, nearly drowning out the storm still raising hell over Monaco.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The sun had barely risen over Los Angeles by the time the jet touched down. After nearly twelve hours in the air, I felt emotionally drained and empty.

Exhaustion consumed every part of me while the anxiety over Amelia sat like thick mud in my chest despite Titus’s text from hours earlier:

Titus: The baby has a heartbeat. No additional updates yet but John says everything with your sister and the baby is stable right now.

I must’ve reread those words at least fifty times during the long flight back to the States. Thank God, the baby had a heartbeat, and Amelia and the baby were stable. I think it was those two words—stable and heartbeat—that kept me from completely falling apart.

It was strange to feel so helpless. I’d never handled situations like this well. No control. No way to help. Just me sitting on a jet, wishing I could snap my fingers and be at Amelia’s side instantly.

The second the aircraft door opened, the cool early-morning California air rushed through the cabin as Wyatt stood and stretched casually beside me, as if he had slept peacefully through the entire transatlantic flight.

Which honestly? I think he had.

“How are you doing, cariño?” he asked gently.

“I’m ready to get to the hospital,” I replied honestly.

“Then let’s get to it,” he smiled reassuringly at me, using his hand to guide me through the jet and down the steps.

Waiting at the private terminal below was a black Rolls-Royce Phantom, already running, with Titus’s driver, whom I remembered, standing beside the rear passenger door.

Thank God that everything about Titus Hawk seemed to run with terrifying efficiency. I truly appreciated that man’s ability to manage shit like this now, rather than judging him for it.

“Good Morning, Ms. Veléz,” the driver greeted. “Mr. Hawk asked me to take you directly to Saint John’s.”

“Thank you,” I answered as I slid into the backseat next to Wyatt.

The drive into the city was muddled together in a strange haze of exhaustion, anxiety, and adrenaline.

Wyatt was forced onto a business call the moment we pulled out of the airport, and I was certainly okay with that. I needed this moment to gather myself and prepare to see my sister. I needed to pull it all together so I could be a calm, reassuring presence for her.

Despite all my efforts to keep my nerves in check, it only took pulling up to the hospital to unravel them. By the time the Rolls pulled beneath the private entrance canopy at Saint John’s Hospital, my stomach was in knots.

Saint John’s was a magnificent place to behold. The massive building, made of glass and steel, rose above downtown like something from the future. Somehow, just walking through its doors instilled an immediate sense of calm, easing a little of the anxiety twisting in my chest.

Thank God.

As I walked through with Wyatt, I watched entire digital walls display patient information and calming visual displays while sleek autonomous transport carts quietly crossed parts of the massive lobby below.

Even at six in the morning, Saint John’s felt less like a hospital and more like one of the world’s most elite medical institutions. Which, quite honestly, it was.