Baby Surprises 7 Book Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  “So, it’s an ego thing?”

  “Possibly. Maybe. It’s more of a ‘success’ thing. Like with this thing we’re doing. Am I into reality TV? Of course not. But doing this project might be the thing that turns my baby clothes line into a success. And if that happens, I’ll know that I did whatever it took to win.”

  “And then what?”

  He crinkled his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t considered such a question. “And then onto the next thing. I do whatever it takes to make that a success, whatever it is, and then the next, then the next.”

  “Sounds…exhausting,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he said. “But I can’t think of any other way to be. Until…”

  Now it was my turn to be curious.

  “Until?” I prompted.

  “Until I got to spend this time with you and Faye. It’s weird—at first, I was going into this with complete business professionalism. Get in, do the job, and get out. But I wasn’t expecting to like that little girl so much.”

  A warm tingle took hold of my heart.

  “She’s pretty awesome,” I said. “If I do say so myself.”

  “I’d never thought about kids before. At least, outside of these abstract things I could have my designers make clothes for. But spending time with Faye, holding her, being there for her whenever she needed it…it was satisfying, like working hard for my business, but different.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to put into words. It’s all so new to me.”

  I inched closer to Justin.

  “I get it,” I said. “When I found out that I was pregnant, it was the most surreal news I’d ever received in my life. I didn’t know how to process it.”

  “But once you did?”

  “Once I did, I was scared. Scared out of my mind. And this is still when Faye’s dad was in the picture—I had no idea how scary it was going to get. But I got over it, and soon I got more excited than I’d ever been in my life. Then…her dad left.”

  Justin shook his head. “Still can’t believe that bullshit,” he said. His jaw clenched as he spoke. “What kind of a man leaves the woman pregnant with his baby?”

  “A cowardly one,” I said. “One who wants to be a kid forever, to never have to deal with adult decisions.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about him, though. I’ll get too pissed off.”

  “Got it,” said Justin. “Totally understandable.”

  “It’s been over a year since he left,” I said. “But it’s still fresh.”

  I shook my head as if trying to banish away thoughts of Brad. “And it’s been hard being on my own,” I said. “But…amazing. I can’t put into words how much I love that little girl. It’s like my life was some dream that I’d finally woken up from that first time I held her in my arms.”

  “That sounds amazing,” he said.

  “Trying to describe it wouldn’t begin to do it justice. It’s like I’d finally found my purpose for being, and it’s her.” I felt the hot sting of tears in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away. “Sorry,” I said. “Talking about her gets me all gushy.”

  He chuckled. “Get as gushy as you want. I like hearing you talk about her.”

  “Is that right?” I asked with a smile. “I’m always worried that I’m going to be one of those parents that never shuts up about their kid and annoys everyone around them.”

  “Nah,” he said. “Not with me. You get this look on your face when you talk about her. It warms my cold old heart to see.”

  He grinned, and I laughed again.

  “You’ve…never thought about being a dad?” I asked. Immediately I checked myself, feeling silly for asking the question. “Sorry,” I said. “That’s a really personal question, I know.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Justin said. “I haven’t. I mean, I’ve thought about the idea of being a parent, but I didn’t really have the happiest childhood.”

  “How you mean?” I asked, then again, checked myself. “Sorry, I keep asking these personal questions.”

  “It’s fine,” he said with another one of his winning smiles. “Well, normally I wouldn’t like to talk about these kinds of things, but something about you…I don’t know. Makes me feel like I can open up.”

  I said nothing, not sure what to make of his admission.

  “Anyway,” he went on. “I don’t like saying my childhood was unhappy. Plenty of kids would’ve killed to be in my position. My dad was a bank executive, and my mom was a big shot with this international electronics distribution company. So, I was taken care of.”

  “But you weren’t happy?” I prompted.

  “My parents were workaholics. Both of them liked to brag about the seventy-hour workweeks they pulled. This meant we had a huge mansion up in Westchester, but it also meant I was more-or-less raised by nannies. And when my parents did take their yearly vacation, I wasn’t allowed to come with them. Said they needed their ‘kid-free’ time.”

  He shook his head. “When I hit thirteen, they sent me off to this boarding school upstate. They said it was so I could get a good education and learn about life away from the city, but I had the suspicion that it was so they could put some distance between them and me. Sometimes I wonder if they ever even wanted kids, you know? Not like they had another besides me.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “Then after boarding school was a private college, then graduate school, then my dad died—a decade ago. I was twenty-four.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Really. It was the weirdest thing when he passed. I was sad, sure, but it almost felt more like a family friend died than my old man. After some time, I realized that it was because I barely knew the guy. Not only did he and I barely spend any quality time together, but he was also one of those ‘strong and silent’ types.”

  “And your mom?”

  “She retired, turned into one of those jet-setting widows zipping around from place to place. I might get a mass text with a picture of her in front of some waterfall or ancient monument, but other than that we don’t really talk.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m complaining.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said. Inside, I felt grateful for the relationship I had with my parents. They were both good people, both of them always eager to hear about my life with Faye.

  Without thinking, I reached over and placed my hand on Justin’s arm.

  “The moral of the story is that I don’t really have the sunniest view of being a parent,” he said. “Or at least, I didn’t. Being with Faye was the first time I’d ever given parenting a shot, even if it was in a small way.”

  “And you like it?” I asked with a smile.

  “It’s nice, that’s all I’ll say. And having you here made it even better.”

  I glanced down to see that the distance between us had shrunk to mere inches. I opened my mouth in a wide yawn, not sure what to do with myself.

  “Anyway, I’ve yakked enough,” he said. “Ready for bed?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said.

  Justin turned over onto his back and closed his eyes.

  “Thanks for talking,” I said.

  He smirked and glanced over at me.

  “Thanks for listening.”

  We said our goodnights, and I rolled over onto my side. And as I lay there, all I could think about was how much I wanted his arm around me, holding me close and tight.

  Chapter 16

  Justin

  “And that’s a wrap!”

  As soon as Craig announced that filming was done, I fell back into the nearest chair and let out a long sigh.

  “That bad?” asked Craig as the crew began taking down their equipment.

  “Not bad, really,” I said. “Just really, really exhausting.”

  “And you only did this for a week,” he said.

  “No kidding,” I said. “I’m thinking I might stick to the clothing business.”

  Craig looked up and around at my penthouse.

 
“Not a bad call,” he said with a smile. “Looks like it’s been working out well for you so far.”

  I chuckled, realizing I needed a drink. Right at that moment, as if she’d read my mind, Heather came into the living room with a champagne bottle in each hand.

  “I don’t know about you all,” she said, “but I could go for some celebrating.”

  The crew sounded their approval of this idea, and Heather passed out the bottles, leaving the room only to return with a few more.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you raiding my wine cellar?”

  “Hey,” she said, passing out glasses among the crew. “You just going to let all that perfectly good booze collect dust?”

  “That’s kind of the idea behind a wine cellar,” I said with a grin, letting her know I was only busting her chops.

  Soon, we had all the bottles cracked open and the glasses poured.

  “Hold on,” I said. “Where’s the star of the show?”

  “Sleeping,” Heather said. “I think she’s about as exhausted from this week as we are.”

  “Then let’s let the little lady get her beauty sleep,” said Craig.

  I nodded and raised my glass. “I want to thank you all for doing a hell of a job this week—for a bunch of home invaders, you’re all right.” Laughter sounded out among the crew. “But, I hope you all aren’t too hurt if I dedicate this toast to Heather.”

  Heather’s eyes went wide, as if she couldn’t believe that I was making her the center of attention. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, which I happened to find very attractive.

  “And not just to Heather,” I went on, “but to Faye, too. In my opinion, she and her mom made this whole thing work. So, let’s all raise our glasses to an amazing, beautiful mother and her adorable daughter.”

  The crew and I cheered, tapping our glasses and taking sips. They all went back to breaking down their equipment as they chatted and drank.

  “Hey,” I said to Heather once we were both out of the spotlight. “Sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I just didn’t think it’d be right not to give you the kudos you deserved.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she said. “My reaction was more out of surprise than anything else. Thanks—those were some kind words.”

  “And I meant every last one of them,” I said. “I knew you were an amazing person before all this, but now I know what a great mother you are.”

  She blushed and bit down on her lip, as if not sure what to say. I realized I loved how she looked when she became flustered—the spread of pink on her fair skin made a gorgeous contrast.

  “Thanks,” she said. “That’s nice of you to say.”

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” I said.

  I took a sip of my wine as I glanced around at all the workers noisily taking down their equipment, chatting loudly, and otherwise carrying on. Thankfully the walls were good and thick, which meant that Faye wouldn’t be woken up by the noise.

  “Hey, I have an idea,” I said.

  “Oh?” Heather raised her eyebrows in anticipation.

  “I don’t know about you, but I think I’d rather be someplace else while these guys finish their work.”

  “Good call,” said Heather. “I could go for some quiet. But what about Faye?”

  I took out my phone and prepared to call the front desk. “One of the nice things about a building like this is they have nearly everything you could want—including last-minute childcare.”

  I made the call, the staff at the front desk letting me know they’d be sending someone to keep an eye on Faye while she slept.

  “We’ll only be gone an hour or so,” I said. “And the staff here is top-notch—plenty of the tenants with kids swear by the on-call nannies.”

  Heather shook her head. “‘On-call nannies,’” she said. “You rich people really do live in another world.”

  I smiled, knowing she was right. And her comment gave me a little glimpse of her own life, one where she didn’t live in a building where all of her needs could be attended to by a trained staff.

  It wasn’t long before the nanny showed up. Heather took her to the room where Faye slept and let her know of any important information.

  “So,” said Heather. “What’s on the agenda?”

  “I thought we could go for a nice, quiet dinner,” I said. “Something no-fuss, but delicious all the same. And maybe somewhere we can grab a good bottle of wine, too.”

  “Sounds perfect,” said Heather.

  I let Craig and the rest of the crew know what was up, and Craig informed me that they’d likely be done by the time the two of us got back.

  Sounded great to me.

  The West Village street where I lived was about as picturesque as they came. The road was narrow and curved, Colonial-era brick buildings were here and there, the occasional super-modern, multi-story condo sprouting up between them. Centuries-old light posts cast the street in a warm, orange glow.

  “So peaceful,” said Heather as we walked slowly down the sidewalk. “Hard to believe we’re in the middle of Manhattan.”

  “Part of the reason why I picked this place,” I said. “I love the city, but if you can’t get away from the noise and the chaos, it has a way of making you a little crazy.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” said Heather. “Can’t count how many times I’ve gotten a wake-up call from a garbage truck banging down the street.”

  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.”