The British Billionaire's Baby by Cristina Grenier Page B

his appointment went on rather quickly. One of the perks of dropping his name was that he was in and out extremely quickly. His injured wrist was deemed too common, even, for a bandage, and he was told to remain in the waiting room while he was written a prescription for pain medication.
    “Bet you’re glad you didn’t slip away today.” Amir’s smirk was enough to make Sebastian roll his eyes as he cast the man a long-suffering look.
    “I don’t know how many times you want me to say it: Thank you. I was a complete oaf.”
    “That you were. It never gets old, your grace.” The title was uttered teasingly, to say the least.
    “Oh, shut your trap, Amir. My wrist may be sprained but I could still bloody your lip if I pleased.”
    “As you say, your Grace.” In order to keep himself from bloodying Amir's lip, Sebastian gazed around the Doctor’s office, taking in its stark décor. The sooner they were out of here, the better. He had a new phone to procure, and had still yet to answer his mother’s deluge of insipid messages.
    When the door leading to the examination rooms opened, he glanced up reflexively, only to freeze in place. He was greeted with a face he knew he’d never forget, despite the fact that she looked completely different.
    It was Gabrielle. She was clad in a pair of paint-streaked jeans and Converse, along with a jumper, her hair pulled into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. Though she looked nothing like the primped and poised woman he’d met at her exhibition, she was still a vision, even disheveled and pale as she was – and she was quite pale.
    A man he recognized as Tristan – her keeper, he recalled with a wry smirk – had a firm hold of her arm and led her to a nearby chair, where she sank down with a low sigh. “It’s going to be alright, darling, you’ll see. We’ll figure this out.”
    What was going to be alright? Inexplicably, Sebastian was seized with sudden worry. He knew Gabrielle was no longer any of his concern, but for her to look so distraught after seeing a doctor, was she sick? Terminally ill? The idea of such a prominent artist and vivacious woman snuffed out in her prime was…displeasing, to say the least.
    And so against his better judgment, Sebastian rose to cross the room and address her.
    “Gabrielle?”
    Her face rose, luminous gray eyes wide as she took him in with an expression of utter shock. “ Sebastian ? What are you doing here?”
    “Sebastian?” At her side, Tristan gave him a quick once over before his eyes widened. It was evident in his expression that while Gabby had no idea who Sebastian really was, he certainly did. “Oh, fuck .”
    “Is everything alright?” The dark-haired man managed, looking curiously from one anxious face to the other. At that moment, a nurse emerged from the back of the clinic with a large bag filled with numerous bottles and a thick sheaf of information. Beaming down at Gabrielle, she handed her the massive package.
    “Here you are, dear. Make sure you read through all of that information. There’s a book in there with a schedule of all your future appointments there as well, along with an explanation of all your prenatal vitamins. Congratulations!”
    As she waltzed back across the clinic, Sebastian was momentarily struck dumb. Prenatal vitamins?
    Bloody hell, he’d been such an idiot.
    He forced himself to meet Gabrielle’s gaze, feeling an utter fool. Of course he hadn’t been the only one she’d slept with, He’d merely been too enraptured with her upon their meeting to see past that exact moment. He knew better than to judge her. He didn’t know her nearly enough to assume anything about her situation.
    “You’re pregnant.” He managed weakly. “Congratulations.”
    “Oh, fuck .” This time, Tristan fairly groaned the words, drawing the irate attentions of a few other patients. Without another syllable, he buried his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth.
    For a moment, Sebastian