Blind Date with a Billionaire Single Dad
Blind Date Disasters
Evangeline Kelly
Copyright © 2018 by Evangeline Kelly. All Right Reserved.
No part of this book shall be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author. Blind Date With a Billionaire Single Dad is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. https://www.esv.org/resources/esv-global-study-bible/copyright-page/
Table of Contents
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
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Prologue
Emery
7 years ago…
I sat up in the hospital bed with my newborn son in my arms, marveling at how perfect he was in every way. Any minute, the social worker would arrive and take my baby to his adoptive parents, and I would never see him again, but for right now, at this very moment, he was mine and mine alone.
I committed to memory each detail: his soft skin, the way he fit in my arms like he belonged there, and his fresh baby scent. I leaned down and pressed a kiss on his cheek, reveling in how tiny and beautiful he was. Holding him closer, I wanted to forget the promise I made to the Wellingtons, forget that I was about to sign over my parental rights. Forget that he would no longer be mine.
Seth and Allie Wellington were well off and had the resources to give my son everything he needed. I’d chosen them at the private adoption agency I used because they were young and eager to start a family, and I’d had this feeling of peace when Seth spoke of his desire for children. His entire expression softened when he talked about having kids, and it made my heart skip a beat. He might have money, but I could tell this was a decision of the heart. My son would never want for anything with these people. Wasn’t that what I had wanted for him? A life that was nothing like mine. A life where he would have plenty of attention from parents who loved and adored him.
A stray tear slid down my face, dropping on my arm, and I choked back a sob. If only things were different. If only circumstances were better and I could keep him. My chest tightened at the thought of letting him go, and inside, underneath my ribs, my heart throbbed one last time and shattered into tiny pieces that would never mend.
“Emery.” Mom approached the bed, her voice stern. “Hand him to me.” Lips pursing, she held out her arms and gave me a scrutinizing look. “Buck up, girl,” she said in a sharp tone. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Taking care of a child isn’t easy. I should know.” Her eyes glazed over as if dwelling on past regrets, and I imagined those regrets included me. She’d never been much of a mother, and we weren’t close, but then again, that was probably my fault. According to my parents, I was a difficult kid to raise, and I didn’t doubt it. I’d always had a stubborn streak and a mouth with a mind of its own, speaking out of turn on impulse.
Except today. Today I had no words to express how I felt.
“I…I can’t give him to you. Not yet.” I ducked my head and looked down, refusing to meet her cold, uncaring eyes. My situation was inconvenient for her, and she had reminded me of that plenty of times over the last nine months.
“You have to let go. At fifteen you have no clue what you’re getting into, and I refuse to take over for you. He’s better off with the nice couple you chose. You’re making the right decision.” The no-nonsense look in her eyes confirmed she meant every word. There was no changing her mind, and she wasn’t about to support a last-minute shift in plans.
If I wanted to keep my child, I would have to move out and raise him on my own. My boyfriend, George, was in the same situation since his parents wanted to forget our baby existed. They would be no help, and George wasn’t mature enough to deal with that level of responsibility without their assistance. He’d never had a job—neither of us had—not even at a fast-food restaurant or retail store. Besides, he’d made it clear that taking care of a baby was not something he wanted to do right now.
A lump formed in my throat as my gaze caressed the little life in my arms, love swelling in my heart. My son appeared serene as he slept, having no clue I was about to give him up forever and walk away. I closed my eyes, my breath shuttering at the thought.
I would receive pictures at least. Those were the terms I had agreed to. Nowadays, open adoptions were more common, but the Wellingtons had stated they weren’t comfortable incorporating a birth mother into their lives, and, to be honest, I wasn’t sure I could handle that, anyway.
“Give him to me,” Mom repeated more insistently, her hands opening and closing as she crowded my space, her breath reeking of coffee and a hint of alcohol.
“No, not yet. I still have a few more minutes.”
There was a hesitant knock and then Jennifer Sanders, the social worker assigned to my case, opened the door. A mass of curly red hair bobbed as she stepped into the room. Her eyes found mine, and her lips curved upward in a sympathetic, if not regretful, smile. “Seth and Allie are here.”
My gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. “I thought they weren’t coming for another ten minutes.”
She shrugged. “They’re excited.”
“Where are they?” I asked.
“In the hallway.”
“The hallway?” My eyes widened, and I sat up straighter, panic bubbling up my throat. My heart rate increased, along with my breathing. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready.
Mom backed away from the bed, appearing relieved that this was almost over and she could go home and hide in her room. The fight in her countenance loosened, and all of a sudden, she looked very tired, the lines around her eyes and mouth pulling tight.
“Take all the time you need,” Jennifer said. “The Wellingtons can wait.”
Tears rushed past my eyelashes and streamed down my face. I squeezed my eyes shut as a pain I’d never known before washed over me like a tidal wave, ripping me apart underneath its current.
“It’s okay,” Jennifer said. I opened my eyes to find her standing next to the bed, next to my heaving chest. She placed a hand on my arm and nodded slowly. “It’s okay to be sad. We talked about this, remember? You’re making this choice because you want a better life for your son, but you will still grieve his loss, and that’s normal.”
Her solid, calming presence quieted my soft crying and gave me the courage to hand my baby to her, knowing that if I didn’t do it now, I might not be able to in a few minutes. She took my son from me and lifted him into her arms, holding him close, gingerly cooing in a low tone as she stroked his cheek. Her gaze was marked with uncertainty when she glanced ba
ck at me. “Would you like to come and see Seth and Allie’s reaction to him, or would you prefer to remain here?”
“You should stay,” Mom said as if afraid I would change my mind and demand to keep him.
“No.” Frowning, I felt bereft without my baby in my arms, the loss of his warmth leaving an empty space on my chest. “I need to see for myself that he’ll be okay.” Refusing to make eye contact with my mother, I got out of bed and slipped on a pair of slippers and then followed Jennifer out to the hallway.
Jennifer walked ahead, but I stayed put at the doorway, not trusting myself to go further. The last thing I wanted was to cause a scene and make this harder than it needed to be. Out of habit, I tugged on the long brown braid that fell over one shoulder and was coming undone. With no makeup on, I probably didn’t look my age. People always commented that I looked younger than fifteen.
Seth and Allie stood a good distance down the hallway, dressed up as if it were a holiday or special occasion. Then again, the few times I’d met with them, they’d worn fancy clothing. They were both in their early twenties with eager and friendly personalities, and though they were very wealthy from what I understood, they’d never looked down on me, or, at least, they’d hidden it well if they had.
Allie almost looked like a Barbie doll with her long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and flawless figure. Seth was just as attractive if not more. His short, brown hair had that stylish messy look that was in fashion these days, and his eyes were as blue as the sky. If it hadn’t been for the Wellington’s kindness during our initial meeting, I would have dismissed them as being too perfect, but they’d both been very understanding when I’d met with them, and it made an impression on me.
I hoped I was making the right decision. A wave of doubt swept over me, and I took a step forward, as if readying myself to take my son and run away from the hospital. I would run until… Where would I go?
Just like that, the doubt dissipated. I had nowhere to flee except my parents’ home, and Mom wouldn’t stand for it. Sure, there was probably a halfway house somewhere that would take me, but that was no life for my child. I was making the right decision here. My son would have a home with two parents who had the resources and time to give him everything. They would love and care for him.
Allie squealed and twisted her hands in front of her as Jennifer approached with the baby. She looked excited but hesitant, and although Jennifer headed straight to her with my son, it was Seth who stepped forward to hold him first. His face lit up, and a smile split across his face when he took my baby in his arms, much like the sun peering through dark clouds, lighting up the world. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, his smile, so electric in its brightness, was simply brilliant.
“He’s amazing,” he said, gazing at him as if he were already his. He drew in a breath and looked at his wife with astonishment. “He just opened his eyes.”
“Oh, my goodness, he’s beautiful,” Allie said, her expression brightening with so much happiness my gut twisted. Her life was about to begin while mine felt as if it were ending. “He loves your voice,” she said, gazing at her husband. “It’s as if he knows you.”
My heart swelled with warmth and pain at the same time. He would be okay. They loved him already.
“Have you decided what you’re going to name him?” Jennifer asked.
“Zachary,” Allie said, “but we’ll call him, Zac.”
Seth glanced up and met my gaze, the excitement in his expression waning as his eyes trailed my tear-stained face. “Thank you, Emery. Words aren’t enough to express how much this means to us.”
My legs wobbled, and I had to grip the doorframe to remain steady. Jennifer and Allie both turned to look at me as well, and with all their eyes on me, I wanted to burst into tears again.
I nodded once. “Take care of him.”
My voice nearly tripped on the words, but I managed to spit them out just as I turned and headed back inside my room. In a few minutes, George would get here, and we would both sign the necessary paperwork. Until then, I would do the breathing exercises Jennifer and I had discussed in weeks past when we talked about what this moment would be like.
At this point, it was all I could do to hold myself together.
Chapter 1
Seth
Present day…
“Well, you’re a grouchy patient if I ever saw one,” Rupert said, amusement flickering in his eyes. He didn’t bother to hold back his laughter as his gaze slid over my white casts, one covering my left arm and the other on the right. He was visiting me in my bedroom as my in-home nurse, Susan Dawson, had just finished feeding me lunch.
And yes, I had two broken arms and someone had to feed me, hence the grouchiness.
Rupert’s humor lightened things up a bit, but I was still frustrated. Honestly though, who wouldn’t be after having a car accident that left them like this? A vehicle had plowed into my black Porsche after running a red light, and I was lucky to survive with only two broken arms and a sprained ankle. I also had a ruptured spleen, but, thankfully, I didn’t have to undergo surgery because the doctor said it would heal on its own. A blood transfusion had been necessary, and the medical staff told me I needed a lot of rest.
Exactly what I didn’t want.
Rupert’s quiet laughter was starting to get on my nerves. “Stop laughing and find a way to be useful,” I quipped, one side of my mouth edging up in an almost-smile.
“I’m not here to play nursemaid,” he said. “Mrs. Dawson is the unfortunate victim who signed up for that job.” He glanced at her with sympathy.
She quickly looked away as if afraid I would ask more of her. She’d gone beyond the call of duty when it came to me. I might have been a difficult patient as of late, but losing the ability to use my arms to dress or take care of myself was the worst kind of aggravation, especially for someone like me who sped through life at a hundred miles an hour.
“Right,” I grumbled. I eyed the man who was my closest friend and also headed up my latest money-making endeavor, a dating app called Dateable. We were currently working on the marketing plan for the business though I wasn’t much help these days. I glanced at Rupert. “No one would expect you to actually do something while you’re visiting me.” I gave him a dirty look, but it wasn’t real, and he knew it.
“I am,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, his black hair slicked back. “I’m getting a kick out of what a schmuck you are.”
“Do you even know what that is?” I shook my head, figuring he probably knew but giving him a hard time, anyway. I liked to razz him because he often threw around slang he picked up in conversation, but occasionally, the actual meaning eluded him.
He gave me a sheepish look and shrugged. “It’s bad. That much is clear.”
“And you’re a Stanford graduate.”
“You graduated from Stanford as well, but I’m willing to bet you don’t know either.”
My thick brows lowered, and I glared at him some more, but then my lips turned up in a smile I couldn’t hold back. “Who says schmuck anymore? It’s something my father would have said.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Like I said. You aren’t sure of the precise definition.”
“In vague terms, it means I’m a jerk.” I glanced at my nurse who was edging her way to the door, obviously wanting a break from this…or me. “Mrs. Dawson, look up the meaning of a schmuck, will you?”
“That’s not in my job description.” She sighed and ran a hand through her short brown hair, rolling her eyes as if she needed a vacation. She was an older woman in her late sixties, and I sometimes got the feeling she was burned out and ready to retire. “Remember the big three? I feed you, clean you, put your clothes on, and help you get around. If the task doesn’t fit into one of those categories or isn’t health-related, it’s not my problem.”
The big three was more like four, but I wasn’t about to remind her of that. Unlike Rupert, she wouldn’t find it funny. She sound
ed just as grouchy as me if not more. I only put up with it because she nursed my son, Zac, back to health after an acute case of pneumonia last year, and she needed the work. Her bedside manner was much better with kids, but on the flip side, not many people would be able to deal with someone like me. Hopefully, she and I wouldn’t kill each other before my casts came off.
“You make it sound like I’m a baby with that feeding, cleaning, and dressing talk.”
“Oh, you are,” she said, rolling her eyes for the second time. “A big one. Your son acts more mature than you.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “How much do I pay you?”
“Clearly not enough.”
“Is he giving you trouble?” Rupert asked, eyebrows raised, ready to jump to Mrs. Dawson’s defense.
“He seems to think a nurse is a personal assistant.”
Rupert glanced at me. “Why don’t you just hire another caregiver to take the pressure off your wonderful nurse? It’s not like you don’t have the money. She’s exhausted. Look at her.”
As he asked, I turned to scan her form, and he was right. She looked worn out and fatigued. “Hmm. Maybe I will if someone”—I cleared my throat and glanced at Rupert—“looks up the definition for a schmuck. Then again, all of this will be over in a few weeks. Mrs. Dawson can manage a little longer…possibly.”
“In a few weeks you might have two broken legs to go along with those arms of yours,” she said with a straight face.
Good point.
Rupert chuckled as he pulled out his phone and typed something. “Got to hand it to her, she knows how to stand up to you. Just hope that poor assistant doesn’t get steam-rolled.”
“We should both be present during that interview,” Mrs. Dawson said, giving Rupert a knowing look.
“Name the day and I’ll be here,” he said. A few seconds later, after concentrating on his phone, he smiled. “Okay, here’s the definition you were looking for, Seth. A schmuck is an obnoxious or contemptible person. Looks like I nailed it.”
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