A Baby, Quick! (Baby Surprises Book 3)

by Layla Valentine

  I winced, making a mental note to watch my words. Not everyone was lucky enough to live in the upper strata of the city like I did.

  “Where to?” she asked.

  “How do you feel about burgers and wine?” I responded.

  “Sounds like a hell of a pairing to me,” she said.

  “There’s a place right down the block that specializes in just that. And dinner’s on me, of course.”

  Heather opened her mouth, I assumed to protest out of courtesy.

  “Let me treat,” I said. “You really pulled me out of a jam by filling in for this show. It’s the least I can do.”

  “If you insist,” she said through a smile.

  I led her down the block to the restaurant, opening the door for her to enter when we arrived.

  “‘The Lancaster’?” she asked, reading the sign on the front of the place. “Fancy name.”

  “Might as well just call this place ‘booze and burgers,’” I said. “That’s why people come here.”

  The interior of the restaurant glowed with soft lighting, dark wood dominating the design. Huge racks filled with bottles of wine were behind the bar, and the staff were dressed in sharp black-and-white outfits. Electronic music played on the speakers.

  Once at our table, the two of us looked over our menus.

  “Anything jump out at you?” I asked.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she said, her eyes on the menu. “But I kind of want the bacon double cheeseburger.”

  “If the lady desires an incredible amount of meat and cheese,” I said in a joking, upper-class accent, “then that’s what the lady shall have.”

  Heather smiled and flicked her eyes back to the menu. “And onion rings,” she added.

  “Good call,” I said. “But don’t forget about the wine.”

  “Any chance I can get you to pick it out?” she asked. “I don’t know if my brain can handle the decision-making process.”

  “Sure can,” I said. “How about you order me that mushroom Swiss—medium with steak fries—and I’ll go to the bar and pick us out something good.”

  “Perfect,” she said.

  I hopped out of my chair and strode up to the bar. Once there, I slowly panned my eyes across the wine bottles on display, making my decision—as always—by the attractiveness of the label.

  After a few quick scans, one label, in particular, caught my attention. It was a familiar label for a wine that Heather and I knew very well. I put in the order with the bartender and headed back to the table.

  “Burgers are ordered,” she said.

  “And so is the wine,” I said.

  “What’d you pick out?” she asked.

  “You’ll have to wait and see, I suppose,” I said.

  “Now I’m intrigued.”

  “You should be.”

  Before too long, the waiter arrived with the bottle of wine. As he presented it to the two of us, Heather’s eyes lit up with surprise.

  “It’s the duck wine!” she said. “The one from the store.”

  “Actually,” said the waiter. “Its name is—”

  I waved my hand good-naturedly. “‘Duck wine’ is fine,” I said with a smile.

  “Then let me get the duck wine opened up for you,” he said.

  He set two glasses on the table and poured us each a sample. We sipped and regarded one another.

  “Perfectly ducky,” said Heather.

  “I can’t help but agree,” I said.

  “I take it that means you like it?” asked the waiter.

  “It sure does,” I said.

  He poured us two glasses and left the bottle on the table.

  “So,” I said. “How are you feeling now that this is all over and done with?”

  “Relieved,” she said. “And I’m not going to lie—I’m looking forward to the payday. Things have been…kind of tight lately.”

  An expression flashed on her face that suggested she immediately regretted saying that. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t really want to complain about money, but I’d be lying if I said that this wasn’t going to help out a lot.”

  “And don’t forget about the money you’ll be getting down the road when this show goes to reruns. If it’s popular, you could be getting a decent check every month.”

  “That’d be perfect,” she said. “Now I just need to figure out how to get all that baby stuff from the show back to my apartment.”

  “I’m happy to take care of that,” I said.

  “Thanks,” she said with a smile. “Faye’s going to be the most stylish baby in Brooklyn with all your clothes.”

  “She can be my baby model,” I said. “Hopefully all the moms that see her out and about will be dying to know where she got her clothes from.”

  “Everyone wins,” Heather said lightly.

  We sipped our wine. And as we did, I found myself wondering what this meant, what Heather and I being with each other said about our relationship. We were just friends, of course, but she didn’t seem to still be upset about what I’d done, as much of a right as she had to be.

  As if reading my mind, she spoke.

  “If…you want to come to visit Faye sometime, that’d be cool,” she said. “I don’t know how busy you are with work and everything.”

  “I’d love that,” I said.

  “Great,” said Heather, now beaming. “Because I can tell she really likes you. And even if she only sees you now and then, I think having a halfway-decent man in her life would do her a lot of good.”

  “Does that mean you consider me halfway-decent?” I asked.

  She narrowed her eyes a bit, a small smile on her face.

  “I think we can upgrade your status to ‘halfway-decent,’” she said. “For now.”

  “Works for me,” I said.

  The food soon arrived, and we dug in. And as we ate, I couldn’t think about anything else other than what the future held in store for this wonderful woman and me.

  Chapter 17

  Heather

  A Week Later

  I pulled up to my parents’ townhome in Sunnyside, Faye strapped into her baby seat in the back.

  “You excited to see grandma and grandpa?” I asked in a sing-song voice as I got out and opened the rear passenger door.

  Faye smiled and clapped her hands together.

  “I think that’s a yes,” I said, giving her round little belly a playful tickle. “Yes, I do.”

  I unstrapped the car seat and carried it up the steps to the townhome. Truth be told, I felt guilty as hell leaving Faye alone with my parents for the weekend. But Justin had invited me up to Long Island with him, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a vacation.

  I rang my parents’ doorbell, and they soon answered.

  “There she is!” said my mom, a spritely, gray-haired woman. She squatted down to Faye, doting on her instantly.

  My dad, a stout man with an open, friendly face, a shining bald head, and a small paunch stepped forward and pulled me into a tight hug. “How you doing, sweetie?” he asked as my mom continued to fawn over Faye.

  “Good, good,” I said. “I think.”

  “You think?” he asked. Then he checked himself and gestured to the inside of the house. “Come on in,” he said. “We can talk inside.”

  I entered my childhood home, feelings of nostalgia washing over me as soon as I crossed the threshold. I made my way to one of the big comfy chairs in the living room, my parents entering with Faye in tow. We all got comfortable, Mom bringing in some snacks.

  “You look tense for someone about to go on a weekend getaway,” said Dad, cracking open a diet soda and taking a sip.

  “Guilty is more like it,” I said. “This is the first time I’ll have been away from Faye for so long. Doesn’t feel right.”

  Mom took Faye out of her car seat and plopped her on her lap. Once Faye was settled in, Mom waved her hand through the air. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “Trust me—you don’t want to be
one of those parents who think their kid’s going to fall apart the second they take their eyes off them.”

  “And you’re not leaving her with some stranger,” said Dad. “You’re leaving her with her grandparents. The worst that’s going to happen this weekend is we might spoil her a little too much.”

  Dad was right. But despite that, I still felt like I was doing something wrong.

  “And Heather, you’ve been such a good mother to Faye. You’ve earned some time off.”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “And I’m so fried from the reality show that I’m worried my brain might melt into a puddle if I don’t relax.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” said Mom. “I forgot our little angel’s going to be a star.”

  She picked up Faye and held her in front of her face.

  “Yes, you are, little cutie. Yes, you are.”

  I laughed. “No way,” I said. “The last thing I want is for Faye to be some kind of weird celebrity baby. I was happy to get extra money in my savings for this show, but that’s the end of that.”

  Dad chuckled. “Right, the last thing we want is a little diva baby.”

  The mental image of Faye all glammed out with big sunglasses appeared in my mind, and I had to suppress a smile at the thought.

  “When does this show come on, anyway?” asked Mom.

  “Not for a little while,” I said. “They have all the footage, but now they need to edit it and make the commercials and all that.”

  “Well,” said Dad. “We’ll be right in front of that TV the first night it’s on.”

  “Now,” said Mom. “What I want to know is who is this man that you’re going out for the weekend with? Is he someone we should be meeting?”

  The implication of what Mom asked was as clear as the day outside. I rubbed my hands together, not sure of how to answer. No way I’d tell her exactly what was going on between Justin and me.

  Not that I knew the answer to that myself.

  “He’s the other lead in the show,” I said.

  “You mean the billionaire?” Mom asked, not missing a beat.

  “That’s the one.”

  With her free hand, Mom waved in front of her face. “And he’s taking you out for a weekend up Long Island?”

  Dad raised his eyebrows, clearly curious for my answer.

  “It’s not like that,” I said. “It’s a professional thing. Just a ‘thank-you’ for the hard work.”

  “A very romantic-sounding ‘thank-you,’” said Mom.

  Right at that moment, my phone buzzed in my purse. I took it out and saw that it was a text from Justin.

  Faye with the grandparents yet? Just give me the word, and I’ll send your ride over.

  I typed up a quick reply.

  Yep, ready when you are.

  I fired off my parents’ address and stuck my phone back into my bag.

  “That him?” asked Mom.

  “That’s him. Told me he’s sending a ride over for me.”

  “Wow,” said Dad. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  Truth be told, I was doing my best not to think about Justin’s money. “Billion” was such a huge sum that it made my head spin to think about. How could someone like me, happy for the little boost to my savings that the show would bring, even begin to identify with a guy like that?

  My folks and I played with Faye and got her room set up while I waited for my ride. Before too long, I received another text.

  Check outside.

  Impossibly curious, I stepped over to the window looking out over the street, gasping at what I saw. It was a sleek, black half-limo, a chauffeur standing outside waiting for me.

  “Wow!” said Mom, running up to my side, Faye in her arms. “Now that’s a nice car.”

  “You sure this is just a professional thing?” Dad asked with a wink.

  I had no idea how to respond.

  Everything was set up for Faye, and Mom and Dad came downstairs with me, Dad grabbing my bag and bringing it out front.

  “Bye, angel,” I said, kissing Faye on the cheeks over and over again. “Mommy’s going to miss you so much.”

  I turned to my parents.

  “Let me know if anything happens,” I said. “And send lots of pictures.”

  “We will, we will,” said Mom. “Now go out and have fun!”

  Hugs abounded, and the chauffeur came up to take my bag and lead me to the car. He opened the back door, revealing a breathtaking interior of dark leather and soft lighting. I slid onto the seat and rolled down the window, waving to the family as the car pulled away from the house.

  Then I was alone. The moment I was apart from Faye, I felt like a piece of me had been taken away. But I tried to remember what Mom and Dad had told me, that I was leaving my daughter with two people who loved her like crazy. She couldn’t be in better hands.

  After a few minutes of driving, I started to feel a bit better. The driver rolled down the partition and half-turned his head toward me.

  “We’ll be at the airport soon,” he said. “Mr. Donovan says to help yourself to the bar, but not to get too full on wine.”

  “The airport?” I asked, surprised to hear that this was our destination. I’d gotten settled in and ready for a several-hour drive up the length of Long Island.

  “That’s right,” said the driver. “Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes or so.”

  The partition went back up, and I turned my attention to the bar he’d mentioned. It was a small compartment between the side doors, and with the touch of a button, it opened up. Bottles of booze were revealed to me, and my mouth watered as I looked them over.

  I settled on a small bottle of champagne, popping it open and pouring myself a glass. As I sipped my wine and watched the city pass me by, the sky clear and blue above, I finally found myself relaxing.

  It wasn’t long before we arrived at La Guardia. The driver took a private road away from the traffic that led to the main entrances of the airport, and after going through a few security checkpoints, we came to a stop on the airfield.

  “Here we are,” said the driver. “Mr. Donovan is waiting for you. I’ll get your things.”

  Outside of the window on the airfield was a coal-black helicopter, Justin leaning against it. He was dressed in a light blue shirt, slim-fitting gray slacks, and a pair of black dress shoes without socks, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

  He looked good—damn good.

  “You ready for this weekend?” he asked, stepping toward me as I got out of the car.

  “We’re taking a helicopter?” I asked, still in disbelief.

  “Of course, we are,” he said, grinning. “You think we’re going to waste time in traffic?”

  It was a good point—taking a helicopter would cut the trip from hours to maybe thirty minutes.

  “You don’t have to talk me into it,” I said. “But you haven’t told me where we’re going.”

  He gestured toward the helicopter. “Hop in, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  The chauffeur loaded my things into the copter’s storage compartment, and Justin helped me up into the passenger’s seat. I settled in, strapping the belts secure. Once Justin was inside and behind the controls, he handed me a headset.

  I took a deep breath as he started up the engine, the blades whirring to life. Seconds later we lifted off, rising higher and higher above the airfield. I took in the amazing view, my hands pressed against the glass.

  “You mind if we take a little detour?” he asked. “The city looks amazing from this high up.”

  I nodded eagerly. With a smile, Justin turned the helicopter back toward Manhattan. It wasn’t long before the city was in view, New York looking like an amazingly detailed miniature from this height. My eyes swept over the scene, tracking from Queens to Brooklyn to the Empire State Building to One World Trade Center. Boats in the East River cut through the water, leaving long white wakes behind them.

  My heart raced—it was like nothing I’d ever seen befor
e. We took in the sights before Justin turned the helicopter back toward Long Island and took us closer to our destination, whatever it was.

  “So,” I said. “Where are we going?”

  “You know our duck wine?” he asked. “The one that brought your lives together when we almost fought over it at that wine shop?”

  I smiled.

  “Sure do.”

  “Turns out they’re a Long Island vineyard. I figured a weekend in wine country would be just the thing to unwind after our television exploits.”

  I wanted to scream I was so excited.

  “I love it!” I said.

  “Then let’s go.”

  He took us over the length of Long Island, the blue of Long Island Sound giving way to the green of Connecticut beyond. Soon, the dense urban areas turned into vast tracts of estate land, large houses dotting the landscape.

  We eventually arrived at the vineyard, Justin lowering the helicopter until we were back on the ground. He cut the engine, got out, and helped me back onto terra firma.

  “How was that?” he asked.

  “Still catching my breath,” I said.

  He gestured toward the large, sweeping vineyard in front of us, lines of wine-bearing grapes going off into the distance.

  “We’re just getting started,” he said.

  Chapter 18

  Heather

  Justin and I stepped into the lobby of the rustic main building of the vineyard. It was an open space, three stories high, a large ornate rug spread out on the ground in front of us and a massive chandelier hanging from above. A huge fireplace lay dormant in front of a cozy-looking living room-style area.

  “Damn,” I said, taking in the scene. “The duck wine vineyard doesn’t mess around.”

  “Nice, huh?” Justin asked as we stepped further into the place. “I looked it up on a whim a few days ago after our burger-and-wine date.”

  He quickly corrected himself.

  “Our burger-and-wine outing,” he said, clearing his throat after. “When I saw how gorgeous the vineyard was, I was interested. And when I saw that it was a hotel too, I was sold.”