“That’s your hormones talking,” I told myself wryly. “You don’t really want to see him. He ghosted you, remember?”
Steeled by the armor I had built around my hurt feelings, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. A monotone beeping interrupted the first ring, then an equally monotone voice told me that the number was no longer in service.
“Not just ghosted,” I realized out loud. “Completely cut out.”
Angry now, I decided that something as little as a changed phone number wasn’t going to stop me. He was a big deal now, right? The internet would know how to find him.
A quick search of his name brought up the contact information for his office in San Bravado. I hit the call button before I could talk myself out of it, and focused on nothing but my breathing as the phone rang.
“Dunn and Lane Enterprises. This is Nate Dunn; how may I help you?”
My heart dropped to my toes. All that, and I still didn’t get him on the phone.
“Hi Nate, may I speak with Miles please?”
“Mr. Lane is unavailable right now; is there something I can help you with?”
“Um…no, it’s personal. Extremely personal, and extremely urgent. Can you tell me when he’ll be available?”
“I’m afraid I can’t give out that information, but if you can tell me what this is regarding, I can get a message to him.”
“I would really rather just talk to Miles.” My voice shook and whined like a child’s, and I took a breath in a futile attempt to relax.
“Mr. Lane is a very busy man these days. What did you say your name was?”
“Shelley Smith.”
“That name sounds familiar. Have we met?”
“No, not officially, but I did see you pick him up after work one night, back when he worked at Finnegan’s? I worked with him there.”
“Ah,” Nate said with sudden warmth. “You’re Shelley Smith! He used to talk about you all the time. How are you? How’ve you been?”
“Oh.” My voice quivered, and I couldn’t keep it inside anymore. “I’m actually pretty shaken up. And nauseated, and pregnant, and I haven’t heard from him in weeks—almost months—and now it’s super important that he gets back to me because I don’t know what to do, and it’s his baby too, and he deserves to have a say in what happens, even if we aren’t together…” I trailed off, sobbing.
I didn’t even know why I was sobbing, but it felt like a pressure valve had been released somewhere in my chest. The tears continued to fall as I regained control of my breathing.
“I see,” Nate said sympathetically. “I believe that Miles will be back within the next few hours. I promise I will give him this message and your number, and he’ll get back to you as soon as he can.”
“Thank you,” I said, shocked at how eerily calm he was being about the whole thing. “And, um, thank you for listening without freaking out.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Nate said, sounding for all the world as if it really was. “Here’s hoping your day gets better.”
“It will,” I said. “As soon as he calls.”
But Nate had already said goodbye and hung up. He was as brisk and professional as Miles was warm and absent-minded. Maybe opposites really did attract.
Satisfied that I had done all I could do for the moment, and knowing that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a single thing until Miles got back to me, I made tracks for home. I could use a good three-hour nap before work, anyway.
I slept with the phone by my ear, but the only sound to wake me was my alarm. I hauled myself out of bed with a groan, feeling groggier after the nap than I had before the nap. Groggier, and grumpier.
I checked for missed calls and texts, but there was nothing. As I got ready for work, I imagined what a work day for Miles must look like now. Some coding, some management, maybe a conference or two. He was the boss, right? He should be able to find time to call me, especially for something this important.
“Maybe he just doesn’t do phone calls anymore,” I mused as I slipped into my work shoes. “He’s a tech guy; maybe he emails first. Crappy way to deal with the situation, but he hasn’t exactly been un-crappy.”
His behavior made me angrier than it should have. I’d really thought he was a better person than that. I figured that money changed people into the worst versions of themselves, and wondered briefly what my worst version would be. I shuddered and pushed the thought away. There were some things I didn’t want to know, even about myself.
Feeling more than a little pathetic, I opened my email on the off-chance that he had tried to contact me there. To my utter annoyance, he had.
Apprehensively, I opened the message.
Shelley,
I’m sorry to hear about your condition. As of now, I cannot make room in my life for you or a child. I won’t tell you what to do, but I want it understood that I will not be participating in the child’s life.
I ask that you keep news of the child and my involvement in its creation out of the media. To that end, I am willing to pay you support as a means of insurance against public embarrassment in the amount of $5,000 per month. That should be enough for you to care for yourself and the child. If you agree, please reply with your banking information so I may set up automatic payments. I would prefer to spend as little time as possible involved in this situation.
Sincerely,
Miles Lane
I felt like I had been punched in the gut. This was worse than ghosting. This was the worst thing anybody had ever said to me, and I’d heard some pretty rotten things flung in my direction—my mom, sister and I had gotten into some crazy screaming matches in our time. This response made me question everything I knew about humans in general, and Miles specifically. I hadn’t known he was capable of being that cold.
I put on what I thought was a brave face then cried myself to sleep when I got home from work. It seemed like the only thing to do.
Could Miles really be so cold? Is Shelley doomed to raise their child alone?
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Accidental Triplets - A Secret Babies for the Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 4) Page 20