Bellamy POV
I sat at the breakfast table, peeling a banana with zero interest. It wasn’t the banana’s fault. It was mine. Everything felt wrong—off. My stomach churned, but I knew it wasn’t food poisoning or nerves.
It was a baby. The flu I thought I had was a baby.
Across from me, Tristan stirred his coffee slowly, the spoon clinking against the porcelain in a soft rhythm. His eyes watched me, quiet and unreadable.
“You look even paler than yesterday,” he said finally. “Are you alright?”
I forced a small smile and took a bite of the banana. “I’m fine. It’s just… stress.”
And by stress, I mean the growing ‘what-the-hell-is-happening-inside-my-body’ kind.
The pregnancy test was still in my room. Still on the sink. Still screaming at me with its bold, bright two pink lines. I hadn’t touched it since I took it. I couldn’t. Just thinking about it made my chest tight.
But there was no time to dwell on it now.
I had a project to complete. I had a rebranding assignment. I had a chance at rebuilding my life. I couldn’t afford to lose focus.
Tristan leaned forward, frowning slightly. “Bellamy, if something’s wrong, you need to tell me. I need you at a hundred percent on this project.”
“I am,” I lied. “I’m good. Just… overwhelmed. That’s all.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push either. Instead, he nodded slowly and took another sip of his coffee. “Alright then. Let’s start with the poolside renovations after breakfast.”
So we did.
We spent the rest of the morning walking the resort. He pointed out where the new bar would go, how he wanted the pathways lit at night, how the old guest suites needed an open-air redesign. I took notes like my life depended on it. Because maybe it did.
I couldn’t let him see the storm inside me. Not yet.
By lunch, I was exhausted. I hadn’t stopped thinking—about the baby, about the one-night stand, about Max or Tristan. I didn’t even know if I was carrying the child of the man who sat across from me on the boat… or his brother.
After eating, I returned to my room and laid down for a moment, breathing in the faint scent of sea salt that clung to the sheets. My hand drifted to my stomach without me thinking. I jerked it away.
Not now. Not yet.
Once I felt a little more steady, I grabbed my notebook and walked down to the beach. I needed to focus. I found a lounge chair facing the waves and sat under a large umbrella, sketching logo designs and notes for the resort’s new name reveal campaign.
The breeze was cool. The sunlight had started to fade behind heavy gray clouds, but I didn’t think much of it. Until the wind started to pick up.
And then—CRACK.
Thunder.
I jerked my head up just as the first drop of rain hit my paper.
“Bellamy!” Tristan’s voice came from the resort’s main building. He was standing on the deck, waving. “Get inside—now!”
I grabbed my notebook and sprinted toward him just as the sky cracked open.
The rain didn’t come down—it poured. Like the clouds were vomiting their rage into the earth. The wind howled through the palm trees, whipping them sideways. Lounge chairs toppled, umbrellas flipped, towels flew through the air like ghosts.
“Is this a cyclone?” I shouted as I ran up the steps, soaked from head to toe.
“No!” Tristan yelled back over the roar. “This isn’t a hurricane zone!”
“Then what the fuck is it?!”
He grabbed my arm and yanked me inside just as a metal tray table flipped across the deck behind us.
“It’s just a freaking storm,” he said, slamming the sliding glass door shut. “They happen on islands. It’ll pass.”
Lightning lit up the entire sky outside, followed by another boom of thunder that shook the walls.
We stood there for a second, breathing hard. I looked down—my hair was soaked, my clothes clinging to my body like a second skin. My notes were crumpled in my hands.
Then—click.
The power died.
The lights blinked out. The fan above us stopped. The silence was deafening, broken only by the pounding rain and the distant groan of wind.
I screamed, stumbling backward. “Oh my God—are you kidding me?!”
“Great,” Tristan muttered. “Just great.”