Start Again Series: A Billionaire Romance Box Set

by J. Saman

  “I am,” she says in earnest. “I’m happy. I mean, twins are such a blessing, right?”

  I nod.

  “So why can’t I shake this? Why can’t I shake this feeling of impending doom? Why can’t I get past the sensation that something awful is lurking, waiting to pounce? It was hard enough thinking about trying to care for and protect one baby, but two?”

  And then she breaks down, dropping her head into her hands and sobbing while her body trembles. Christ, what can you say to someone in her position? I get where she’s coming from. I get why she’s so scared.

  I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my chest. Kate is a shorty, and though I’m petite in my own right, I still have a few inches on the woman. She folds into my chest easily, and I let her get it all out for a few minutes before I even bother trying to speak.

  “Nothing is waiting for you, Kate,” I whisper, kissing the crown of her head. “You’re blessed with these two babies because you freaking deserve them. And they deserve you as their mother. They even deserve Ryan as their father. These babies are going to be blanketed in love and protection. They have their parents, who would die for them. Me, Luke, Ivy, Kyle, even your crazy mother, too.”

  She laughs through her tears at that, nodding against my chest.

  “We’ll all watch out for those munchkins with our lives, Mama Duck. And you know, Maggie and Eric are watching out for them too.”

  She lets out a loud sob, but she nods, trembling and sniffling into my shirt. I let her, because I love her, and this is an old t-shirt anyway.

  “I won’t make it,” she whispers, like this admission is a weakness. “If something happens to them, I won’t survive this time. I feel like I need to go see Eric and Maggie. Go to the cemetery and talk to them, but the idea of me flying makes Ryan really nervous and it’s worse in his mind now that it’s twins. But I think I need to go,” she says again, a bit more forceful than before. “God, what if Maggie feels like I’m trying to replace her? I was worried about that with Eric when I married Ryan. But Maggie? I can’t do this.”

  Wow. This is old, darker Kate going on. This has me a touch worried because she’s not exactly rational at the moment.

  “Listen to me, baby mama drama.” I squeeze her against me tighter. “You need to get your head on straight. You will not do those babies growing in that womb of yours any good if you lose your shit now. You are not replacing Maggie,” I say emphatically. “Your heart will always be full of her, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have room for more. Maggie would want siblings, and Eric would want you to be happy. You know all of this. You. Know. All. Of. This. So, snap out of it.”

  “I know.” She swallows hard, but I think she’s starting to come around. Kate pulls away, wiping her tear and mascara-stained cheeks with her fingers before taking a deep, fortifying breath. “I’m fine. I just needed a good cry about it all I think.”

  “You’ve got this?” I ask, looking intently into her eyes.

  “I do. I’m just scared.”

  I smile down at my little friend, because it takes a brave woman to admit when she’s scared, and that’s one of the things I admire most about Kate. She’s freaking brave. As brave as anyone I’ve ever known.

  “We good in here?” Ryan asks, hesitantly standing in the threshold of the kitchen.

  “Good,” Kate says with a beaming smile for her husband. “Sorry.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, love. This is big. I get that.”

  “Do you always have to be so damn understanding, Ryan?” I tease. “I mean, shit.”

  He doesn’t laugh. He just glares at me with his jade eyes encased in black plastic frames. And that beard? You’d think he could trim it more than once a week. Stupid hipster. “Now that you’re here with us, Claire Bear,” he grins widely and I glower at him for the use of that wretched nickname. “I need you to go to New York on Sunday.”

  “What the fuck, chuck? Why ever for?”

  He pours me a glass of wine, sliding it across the smooth counter in my direction, like this will get me to do his bidding. It probably will. Kate stares at the thing like it’s a traitor.

  “Because there is an important meeting with some British guy who practically runs a multi-national financial company. He’s looking to utilize our security software and infrastructure as part of his network since they’re expanding.”

  I just stare at him blankly.

  “He doesn’t do business for the first time over the phone,” Ryan continues. “He’s a meet-in-person sort of guy.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why I have to go.”

  “Because I’m not flying anywhere. Even if I didn’t require an entire pharmacy to get on a plane, I’m not leaving Katie right now. Luke is off on one of his ‘business trips,’” he puts air quotes around the words, “and I don’t know when he’ll be back. But I doubt it will be in the next few days, judging by his last text.”

  “Still not getting why it has to be me.”

  Ryan runs a hand through his hair, as he deliberates telling me whatever the hell is up with him. Turning to look at Kate, she gives him a small nod, before his attention focuses on me again.

  “It has to be you because there is no one else who I feel like I can trust.” He leans forward onto the counter, propping his elbows up and intertwining his fingers. “For better or worse, you’re my family, Claire, and I need you.”

  Shit. I hate it when Ryan gets real. Most of the time we just joke around with each other and are rarely serious. So, when he plays that card, I can’t help but listen.

  “When was the last time you spoke to Kyle?”

  “Kyle?” I ask, completely befuddled, because Ryan never asks me about his brother. My eyebrows knit together. “Um. I don’t know. He’s been super busy. Maybe last week when he called the office, but it was brief. I’ve texted with him a bunch, though. Why?”

  “Okay,” Ryan says slowly. “Fuck and shit,” he mutters, spinning around and pacing toward the back hallway.

  “Dude, what?” He’s scaring me. I mean, Ryan is hardly ever serious, even though Luke teases him sometimes and calls him Mister Serious. But really, that’s meant to be ironic, so just what the absolute fuck?

  “It’s nothing. It’s fine.” Ryan spins back around, walks the three steps to the marble counter and downs half my glass of wine. Yeah. Sure. Nothing. And if I continue to eat cherry Danish for breakfast every morning, my ass won’t spread.

  “You’re quite possibly the worst liar in the history of liars, and I have known a few in my time. So, I’m calling shenanigans. Spill your shit, Ryan, before I call your brother this instant.”

  Kate and Ryan exchange a look, and that pisses me off more. I hate feeling on the outside of the inside.

  “I think he’s just a bit lonely at the moment,” Ryan says, lying blatantly to my face. “You know he had that hard-ass case and is burnt out. I don’t know, I think it would really boost his spirits if when you’re in New York for that meeting, you guys caught up. I know you’re like middle school BFFs now.”

  I stare at Ryan. And then I look at Kate, whose eyes are literally pleading with me not to challenge this.

  “Sure, I’ll go,” I tell him. “I love New York in the springtime,” I sing at him, and he rolls his eyes at me. And then it hits me. This is the first week I haven’t spoken to Kyle on the phone since Kate and Ryan’s wedding, and suddenly Ryan is asking me to go to New York and have dinner with him.

  None of this adds up to anything good.

  Now I’m scared. Which pisses me off, if I’m being honest. I don’t like being set up like this.

  I leave Kate and Ryan’s shortly after that. They need time to themselves, and I need time to think about what Ryan said about Kyle.

  He’s not freaking lonely. No goddamn way. And never in a million years, would Ryan ask me to hang out with his little brother if he were. So just what the hell is going on that I don’t know about?

  Whatever i
t is, it’s keeping me from falling asleep.

  In fact, it’s a little after midnight now and I’m restless.

  I’ve replayed our last phone conversation no less than a dozen times in the few hours since I went to bed. I like Kyle. A lot. So much so that I don’t think about it. He’s fun and smart and seems to get me without judgment. He never tried to have sex with me, even if we did only hang out for one night. All positives in my book.

  Most men aren’t like that with me.

  They see me as a challenge. Some sort of redheaded conquest, like they’re the one who will reel me in and show me just what I’ve been missing all this time. Like all I’m really looking for from them is to be saved.

  I’m not.

  So, the notion that Kyle’s been dealing with some sort of issue upsets me tremendously. To the point where I’ve been debating calling him in the middle of the night. To the point where I’m tossing and turning in my bed with no one else on my mind but him. I haven’t had a guy occupy my thoughts like this . . . well, since college, I guess. Even then, it was never to this extent.

  But Kyle is my friend, so it’s different.

  I know I’m not going to be able to sleep unless I call him, so I do the selfish thing and hit his number in my phone. Even if it is three in the morning there.

  The phone rings a few times, and just as I’m about to hang up, his groggy, disembodied voice carries through the phone. “Hello?”

  “Kyle, it’s Claire. Sorry to wake you,” I whisper, because I feel like talking too loudly right now would be jarring. Not to mention, I’m lying here in the dark in my bed, so whispering feels like the thing to do.

  He’s silent, probably because he doesn’t know what to make of this call. Oh, and I woke him out of a sound sleep. God, I’m a miserable bitch.

  “You still there, or did you fall back to sleep on me?” I ask after another quiet minute passes.

  “Um. No. I’m here. I’m just . . .” He chuckles, and then it sounds like he’s moving. “Fuck, it’s three-thirty in the morning. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Wow, suddenly I realize I shouldn’t have called. I’m not supposed to mention that Ryan asked me to have dinner with him per his instructions, and I have no real excuse for calling and waking the poor guy up. And now I laugh, because really, what the hell else can I do? “I don’t know why I called you this late,” I admit. “Go back to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow during normal daylight hours.”

  I’m about to hang up when he yells out, “No, don’t hang up. I’m awake now and I’ll never fall back to sleep until I know why you’re calling me.”

  I’m smiling. Something about this guy just brings that out of me. “It really can wait. It’s nothing epic or nefarious, or even all that interesting.”

  “Spill it, baby doll.”

  I laugh at the nickname, biting my lip and shaking my head. Suddenly, I realize I’m really freaking excited to see him. So, if he never tells me what’s up and I just get an excuse to hang out with him, well, that’s cool with me.

  “Do you want me to guess?” he asks when I don’t respond, lost in my reverie.

  “Sure. Go for it.” I roll over so I’m lying on my side, my face propped up with my hand, as if he’s next to me in bed. Setting the phone down on my pillow, I hit speakerphone and listen to his breathing as he thinks this through.

  “You can’t get me out of your mind, and now you’re hopelessly addicted to me.”

  “That’s a given, and frankly, not all that creative. You can do better than that.”

  “So, you’re saying I’m on your mind, and you’re hopelessly addicted to me?”

  “Well, yeah,” I laugh the words. “And don’t even try playing it off. I know you’re way more hooked on me than I am on you,” I tease, unable to stop my spreading smile. Or the random flock of butterflies fluttering around my stomach.

  “It’s true. I can’t even deny it. I mean, what sort of asshole maintains a purely platonic, phone-only relationship with a female if he’s not?”

  I bite my lip, squirming around under my sheets. “Ah ha, I think you’ve stumbled upon something.”

  “Really?” he asks bemused. “How’s that now? Our mutual need for the other is why you’re calling? Don’t tell me you’re ending this? I’ll never survive.” Sarcastic prick. “Cut to the chase here, Claire. I’m missing out on some much-needed beauty rest. And if this doesn’t get me phone sex or anything else worthwhile, I’m hanging up in a minute.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that. Especially since he’s never talked about us having sex before. Whether on the phone or in person.

  “You drive a hard bargain here, but your detective skills are lacking. I prefer a little more seduction and manipulation when trying to be coerced into giving up answers.”

  He growls at me.

  “Just saying.”

  “Out with it.”

  “I’m coming to New York for a meeting. I’ll be there Sunday and Monday night, and I was wondering if you’re around to meet up for dinner one of those nights.”

  He’s silent for another beat. “That’s why you called me at three in the morning?” He’s incredulous, and I can’t exactly blame him for that. “To see if I want to meet up for dinner?”

  “Um. Yes?” I flop back down onto my pillow covering my eyes with my forearm, feeling guilty for withholding the real reason. But I can’t tell him why. I don’t even know why. “We can do the whole phone sex thing if you want,” I jest, yet I’m oddly liking that idea more than I should. “I mean, I haven’t rubbed the pearl yet tonight.”

  He chokes and then coughs, and then it sounds like he’s choking again as he’s suddenly muffled, no doubt from him covering the phone with a pillow.

  When I hear the sound clear, I smile big and ask, “You still with me?”

  “Sorry, I think I just spit out my lung.”

  I snort. “Am I too much for your delicate sensibilities?”

  “No. I just like to know what to expect, but I don’t think I’ll ever get that luxury with you.”

  That makes me smile like a girl who just aced her Economics final. Not like a girl who just offered phone sex to her friend. Or like a girl who likes a boy. Definitely not like that. It’s too cliché.

  “Sure,” he continues where we left off, “I’d love to have dinner with you. Sunday night is better than Monday, if that’s okay?” He sounds a little pissed, and I wonder if that’s because I woke him up or because of my asinine reason for calling. Or because I made him spit out a lung, as he put it.

  “Sunday is great. I’ll get in touch when I land that afternoon. I’m sorry I woke you, Kyle Smile. Do you forgive me?”

  He rumbles out a chuckle. “I don’t think it’s possible to ever really be mad at you. But yeah, I forgive you.”

  “Thanks, babycakes. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “See you soon, cupcake.”

  I’m smiling. I’m smiling big. Because I’m really, super-duper freaking excited to go to New York and hang out with Kyle. I may even be a bit giddy over it because I just giggled out loud like a stupid schoolgirl.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  5

  Claire

  * * *

  I land in New York in the late afternoon after a long, but uneventful flight. I don’t even have to bother taking a cab or the train, because fucking Ryan has a driver waiting for me, holding a stupid sign that reads Claire Bear Sullivan.

  Asshole.

  Ryan, not the driver.

  On the oh-so-comfortable and luxurious ride into the city—okay, maybe calling Ryan an asshole was a bit much—I text Kyle, letting him know I landed.

  He replies almost instantly, and for some inexplicable reason, I get a touch of butterflies from that. I’m sure it’s just because we haven’t seen each other in a long time.

  He’d sent me a text last night that said, “wear something comfortable.”

  So, I did. I’m wearing my green pickl
e “I’m kind of a Big Dill” tee and a plaid skirt with my red Chucks. If that doesn’t scream comfort, I don’t know what does. But it also has me curious as to what he’s got in mind. I’m so nervouscited!—which really should be a word.

  The New York City skyline comes into view as we hit the Queensboro Bridge, and my giddiness morphs from being about Kyle to being back in this city. I haven’t been to New York since I was a student at Penn and my friends and I came here for a weekend away after midterms.

  For a Sunday afternoon, there is surprisingly very little traffic, so we pull up to the Ritz Carlton, Central Park in no time. After checking in, I make my way up to my suite—damn it, Ryan—toss my bag onto the floor and jump onto the giant fluffy bed, letting out a resounding sigh of contentment.

  But of course, my phone rings, and it’s in the main part of the suite. “Ugh!” I groan out as I pull my body up and off the bed before I fly across the room and pick up my phone just before it goes to voicemail.

  “What’s up, dude?” I ask, just a touch breathless. Damn, I really need to start hitting up the gym a little harder.

  “Are you at the hotel yet?” his sexy baritone fills my ear, the ever-present sounds of the city behind him.

  “I am indeed, my friend. Where you at?”

  “Outside. Come meet me.”

  “You got it.”

  I hang up with Kyle, grab my light leather jacket, and make my way back outside.

  It’s a gorgeous spring evening in New York. I mean, simply perfect. The sky has a mellow pinkish purplish glow. The air is sweet and mild with only a subtle hint of a breeze. Across the street, the trees in the park are coming back to life after a long miserable winter. New leaves and flowers are in abundance, peppering the air with their soft fragrance.

  My eyes scan the street lined with busybodies and evening strollers, but I come up empty. Not a Kyle to be seen anywhere. But then a tour bus moves its large ass and I spot him standing across the street abutting the park and staring at me.