Keeping the Boss's Baby: A Secret Baby Romance

by Ava Storm

  “Griff,” I said suddenly. “Is there a marriage certificate in the file? Divorce papers?”

  They rifled through and came up with nothing. My head pounded as I tried to figure out what it all meant. The agency we used was incredibly thorough. If I’d asked, they’d have come up with her school records all the way back to first grade. There was no way they’d miss a marriage certificate.

  You should know that Collins was my married name. I go by Stafford now.

  I ran the moment over in my mind again and again, twisting it this way and that, trying to find the purpose behind the illusion. Had a divorce just been a convenient excuse to explain why her legal name wasn’t really Collins? And then, had an ex-husband become an equally convenient excuse to explain Madelyn? But why? No matter how many twisting corners I chased logic down in, I always dead ended at that question.

  Why had Paige lied?

  “Could someone be paying her to get close to you?” Kai asked emotionlessly.

  “More than she’d get in child support?” I asked. “I don’t see why.”

  “The details of the London deal would be pretty valuable to the right company. Especially if they could get to market before us.”

  I couldn’t see it, but then I had a track record of not seeing clearly the people who were right in front of my face. I could tell Kai was thinking about Georgia and how blind I’d been to her conniving ways.

  “No,” Griffin said. “That doesn’t make sense. People don’t buy the winning lotto ticket and then rob a bank instead of cashing it in.”

  “Some lotteries aren’t that big,” Jameson said. “And Paige is young. Let’s say she won a measly twenty million. She’d blow through that in what, ten years? She’d need a backup plan.”

  The three of us who weren’t raised in the lap of luxury stared at him.

  “The lottery in question here is Ford’s dick,” Griffin said, getting back to the matter at hand. “We can safely say it’s medium sized.”

  “If we’re speaking in metaphors, the lottery is actually Ford’s--”

  “Is there anything with her ex’s name on it?” I interrupted. “I think his name starts with A.”

  After a quick shuffle, Jameson came out with the rental agreement for her apartment in Branville. “Alexander Whitehall,” he read. “Looks like they broke the lease at the end of March two years ago.”

  “A broken lease isn’t a breakup,” Kai said quietly. “What if the baby is yours, but she’s in love with him? What if he thinks the kid is his? She wouldn’t be able to go after you for child support then. Not unless she was willing to risk him finding out.”

  “No father’s name on the birth certificate,” I reminded him, but his words hollowed out a pit in my stomach. The problem was that there was no way to know for sure. I couldn’t trust a word that came out of Paige’s mouth, and I had no doubt that Amanda and Shelly would lie for her, too.

  “I don’t mean to be the voice of reason here,” Jameson drawled. “But maybe you should go talk to her ex. Sounds like she could be lying to both of you. Go see what she’s told him.”

  Griff stared at him. “Congratulations. That is not a bad idea.”

  “Not bad at all,” Kai agreed, pulling out his phone. He made a quick call to the agency. By the time he hung up, they’d already started pulling together a file on Alexander Whitehall.

  “They’ll send information over as they get it,” Kai told me, disconnecting the call. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, big brother. I’ve got this one,” I said grimly. Normally I appreciated the way Kai’s ice balanced out my fire, but just now, I didn’t want to be balanced out. I wanted to find out what the fuck was going on by any means necessary.

  The others stayed on the top floor to continue going through the file. I rode the elevator down alone, descending deeper through layers of anger, confusion, and a shitty sense of loss that I wanted to rip out of my chest the same way I’d ripped out Georgia. But once again, there was Madelyn, complicating things. She was entangled with Paige, and even if I could hate Paige, I couldn’t hate Madelyn. I felt a driving need to see her again, to squat down to her level and stare into her eyes until I saw for sure whether she was a piece of me or not.

  She is.

  The words came unbidden into my head. They didn’t sound like my thoughts, but rather something infinitely older, wiser. Intuition. Something I had so much of when it came to other people. Something I trusted implicitly.

  Madelyn was my daughter. I could see it so clearly now that I was looking for it. She had all my volcanic temperament, and no Kai to balance her out. She was darker than Paige. Her hair, her eyes, her laugh. That came from me. She’d grow up hungry for things she couldn’t explain. Paige wouldn’t be able to help her because Paige wouldn’t understand her. Not like I would.

  My fists balled in my pockets as I stepped off the elevator. To my displeasure, Priya was leaning against Mrs. Winthrop’s desk. The sight of her reminded me so much of her best buddy Will that my lip curled involuntarily.

  “Paige called out sick,” Priya announced as though she was ratting her out.

  I looked past her at Mrs. Winthrop, who shrugged her shoulders in an infinitesimal gesture as though to say, “Well I couldn’t tell her the truth.”

  I ignored Priya’s announcement and said, “Mrs. Winthrop, can I talk to you in my office? There are some things I was going to have Paige handle that need to be reassigned.”

  “I can help,” Priya said eagerly.

  “Not as well as Mrs. Winthrop can,” I said shortly, and walked past her into my office without a second glance. Moments later, Mrs. Winthrop followed me in and closed the door.

  Trying to figure out where to start, I walked to the wall of windows and looked out at the city. “I’m sorry about what you witnessed earlier. That was very unprofessional.”

  “Oh, Ford,” she said, her voice overcome with sympathy. “You don’t have to apologize. What can I do to help you get her back?”

  “Get her back?” I turned around. “It’s unclear whether that would be a good idea or not for this company. And for myself, personally.”

  “Of course you need to get her back,” Mrs. Winthrop said as though I were being ridiculous. That was the problem with loyalty. She’d known me since I wore clip-on ties. She knew me, so she thought she knew what was best for me. “I don’t know what happened, but I know that Paige is a good person, and she’s good for you. You two can patch it up.”

  “That remains to be seen,” I said noncommittally. “Right now, I’d like to hear your impressions of Miss Stafford. Start from the first time you met her.”

  “Well,” Mrs. Winthrop sat down, her brow creasing as she thought back. “I remember thinking she was very pretty. I liked that she was early. Melanie Greenwell never was, you know. Melanie was also a cat person. You aren’t thinking of bringing her back, are you?”

  I shook my head, and she looked relieved.

  “I’m almost sure Paige is a dog person. Although when I first met her, I thought maybe she was one of those strange people who keep chinchillas or sugar gliders. You know, rodents.”

  Because it was Mrs. Winthrop, I said with an unusual amount of patience, “Why did you think that?”

  “She was just such a nervous little thing that morning. I’m used to seeing people with interview jitters, but she looked terrified every time the elevator door opened. I thought for sure you wouldn’t hire her. You don’t like timid people.”

  I snorted. That was true enough.

  “But I was glad when you did,” Mrs. Winthrop continued, “because I had a good feeling about her. And after that first day, she wasn’t nervous anymore.”

  While Mrs. Winthrop ran through everything she could think of regarding Paige, sprinkling in several references to the good feeling she got about her and delicately insulting Melanie, I thought about Paige’s knuckles turning white around her purse strap when she walked into my office for the interview. I
’d chalked it up to being nervous about seeing me again. I’d been too busy grounding out the embers of surprise and interest that sparked when I saw her to think any more about it. Again, I’d missed something right in front of me.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Winthrop,” I said when she was done. “One last question--did anyone else ever come in for the interview?”

  Her eyebrows knit. “For the executive assistant position?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, we hadn’t asked anyone else--oh, wait.” Mrs. Winthrop’s eyes went hazy as she thought back. “You know what? I got a strange message. It was a woman asking if they could reschedule the interview. Something about an illness. I didn’t listen to it until after Paige had been hired. Because she had shown up, I never called the person back.” She looked anxious. “Ford, what’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I said grimly. “But I’m going to figure it out.”

  31

  Paige

  I called Amanda on my way back to the apartment. I had Madelyn’s hand gripped firmly in mine, even though we were already on the bus.

  “I need you to help me break my lease,” I said when she answered, my words rushing into one another.

  There was a pause while she pried them apart and examined their meaning. Then a quick inhalation. “Why, Paige? What’s going on?”

  I looked down at Madelyn who was looking back at me, her face filled with suspicion. God, she looked just like Ford. “I can’t tell you right now. Can you help me?”

  “Where are you?”

  “On the bus going back to the apartment.”

  “I’m on my way to work, but I’m stopping by.”

  She was already waiting for us in the hall outside the door when we got there. She was dressed for court and her briefcase was on the ground. She picked it up when she saw us get off the elevator. “Did he fire you? Because that’s grounds for a sexual harassment suit. Also, good morning.”

  I laughed bitterly, thinking about how closely Ford’s own thoughts had followed that line of thinking. “Good morning. No, he didn’t fire me.”

  While I fumbled to unlock the door,” Amanda ruffled Madelyn’s hair and said, “Hey cutie.”

  “Hi,” Madelyn said grudgingly.

  I went straight back to the bedroom. Amanda turned on Nickelodeon for Madelyn and then followed to find me flopping my suitcase on the bed and flipping open the lid.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, sitting down beside it as I began stripping clothing from hangers and throwing them in wildly. “Why do you need your lease broken? Talk to me, Paige.”

  “There,” I said briefly, “on the nightstand.”

  Amanda’s eyes searched until they found the packet. I heard the pages rustle as she picked it up, and then a sharp inhalation. “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s everything.” I yanked out the black dress Ford had liked so much, ignoring the fresh twist of pain the sight of it brought. “It’s my whole life. Fucking dental records, Amanda. Is that even legal?”

  “Everything?” she asked quietly.

  “Look toward the back,” I said. “You’ll see.”

  For several minutes, the only sounds were hangers clattering, pages flipping, and the cheery sound of Dora the Explorer admonishing Swiper to stop swiping.

  “So he knows,” Amanda said finally, putting it gingerly on the bed beside her as though it were a bomb that might explode. “And now you’re, what? Leaving town?”

  “Exactly,” I said. My suitcase was full, and I still had half a closet left. Luckily, I still had the moving boxes from a few months ago folded up under the bed. I dropped to my knees and swatted Amanda’s legs aside while I pulled them out.

  “Why?” Amanda asked, putting her feet back down.

  I rocked back on my heels and stared up at her, harassed. What did she mean why? Wasn’t that obvious? “Because he knows, Amanda. He knows I’m not Miss Collins, that I took the job under false pretenses, that I had his baby and lied to him about it.”

  “Didn’t you think he would eventually?” she asked gently. “I mean, what did you think was going to happen if you guys stayed together?”

  Avoiding her gaze, I began folding the boxes back together. “Can you get me the packing tape from the kitchen?”

  “No, I can’t get you the packing tape because you shouldn’t be packing.” Amanda sighed in annoyance as I left the room to get it myself. When I came back, she was looking through the report again. “What’s your worst-case scenario?” she asked, her voice crisp and professional.

  “I go to jail for fraud and he keeps Madelyn from me,” I said promptly.

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to jail.”

  “But he could keep Madelyn.” I watched myself pick at the edges of the tape, trying to pry the end free. My fingers were trembling. “Not keep her, but he could get custody of her. He has money. I have a history of lying. And I’m unemployed.”

  Amanda’s face gentled. “It seems bad right now--”

  “It is bad,” I cut her off. “Stop being my friend and talk to me like a lawyer.”

  Still trying to be gentle, Amanda said, “I know you and Shelly think that ‘lawyer’ is a catchall term for someone who knows literally everything about the legal system, but it’s not. I’m an entertainment law student, which means I don’t know how to break your lease, and I’m not qualified to advise you about custody. But as your friend, I advise you to slow down. You’re not thinking straight. If Ford wants to take custody of Madelyn, he’s going to find you anywhere you go. He clearly has the resources.”

  I let the shriek of the tape answer her. It was better than telling her the plan that had been forming in the back of my mind since I first saw Madelyn’s birth certificate in Ford’s file. She would try to stop me. And she’d be right to, but I couldn’t think about that now. I couldn’t think of anything other than shoring up all the ways in which I would be deficient in the eyes of the law. Right now, I was an unemployed single mother and a full-time liar. I couldn’t change how I’d gotten the executive assistant job, but I could change the rest.

  Amanda sighed as I began emptying my dresser into the box. She looked at the watch on her slim wrist and said, “I have to get to court, but promise me you won’t do anything right now. I’ll call Shell. We’ll come over after work, and we’ll get this figured out. Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.” I stared down into my underwear drawer. The fancy pieces from La Perla stood out against the rest of the cotton basics. I balled up the flimsy underwear and it disappeared in the grip of my fist. Insubstantial, like the entire last few months with Ford had been. It felt like a different life looking back. What had I thought would happen exactly? That we’d get married? That he’d become Madelyn’s stepfather? How would I have explained Alex’s absence then? At one point or another, I’d have had to either have told him the truth or continue the lie. Maybe it was better this way.

  “Okay?” Amanda asked, bending down beside me and trying to read my face. “You’re not going to make any rash decisions in the next ten hours?”

  “No,” I said, turning my face from her swinging red hair that smelled like the eco-friendly zero-waste shampoo bar Shelly had gotten us all for Christmas.

  “Okay,” Amanda said, straightening up. “Call me if you need me. I’ll be in court, but I’ll call you back when I can.”

  With as much patience as I could muster, I listened to her saying goodbye to Madelyn in the living room, waiting for the sound of the door opening and closing behind her. Then, when I heard the heavy click that indicated she was gone, I went back to packing with renewed frenzy.

  I’d dismantled my life once before. I’d left everything behind. I’d become a different person. Now I was trying to do it again, but it was a hell of a lot harder than I remembered. For one thing, it was criminally expensive to break a lease in Chicago.

  “It’s a softer rental market now,” the woman in the leasing office told me.

&n
bsp; “Softer than three months ago?” I demanded. “It’s summer! How is that possible?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t make the rules, honey. If you break the lease, we’ll be able to rent the unit for about $150 less than what you’re paying. You have nine months left in the lease, so that’s about 1,400 right there. Plus the cost of advertising. We’ll keep your security deposit, of course.”

  My head spun as she counted up the costs. To avoid staring at her indifferent face, I watched Madelyn explore the office. She cooed when she found a stack of Sophisticated Living Chicago magazines and pulled them down to the ground one by one, spreading them out on the hardwood floor. I stared at them. The covers all featured glamorous women standing confidently in front of beautiful spaces. One of the women looked like Georgia Harlow. My heart squeezed with loss that was too vast to identify. I would never be one of those women. I couldn’t do it. I’d tried, and I’d failed. Now the only thing to do was take what mattered and run back to the safety of home.

  Finally, the woman named a final number. It was everything I had in my bank account. Once again, I would be down to my last five dollars. Living on credit. I wrote the check anyway.

  When Amanda and Shelly arrived that evening, they had pizza, wine, and a plan. Two plans, actually.

  “What you need to do is go to him,” Shelly said, pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “Tell him the truth. Tell him everything. It’s the ultimate defense.”

  Amanda frowned. “That’s not actually true, legally speaking.”

  “Overruled,” Shelly said, jabbing a finger at her. “Paige, he cares about you. He cares about Madelyn. He’s not going to try to destroy your life or hers.”

  “Of course he’s not going to try to destroy her life,” I said, watching Madelyn play with Duplos in the corner of the room. She looked annoyed by Shelly’s pacing, as though if someone would get out of the way, we would turn on the TV. “But it wouldn’t be, would it? If he took custody of her, she’d go to the best schools. She’d have access to the best of everything. She’d probably be learning Mandarin instead of watching Paw Patrol. She’d have nutritionally balanced meals instead of pizza crusts.”