Billionaire Boss's Baby

by Roxeanne Rolling

  “Thanks for stopping,” I say. “I’m not having the best day of my life right now.”

  “We all have moments like that,” says the man. “What’s your name, young lady?”

  “Sarah,” I say, choking through the tears.

  “Oh,” says the old man, recoiling and removing his arm from me. “You’re that Sarah I saw in the papers. You’ve been cheating on John Clark! I’ll have you know he employs my son and he’s a good man!”

  I start sobbing again as the man commands his poodle to leave me. He has to take the dog by the leash and drag it away. The old man turns once as he walks away and scowls at me.

  I start sobbing again. Who wouldn’t? This is really too much.

  Now people are sure that I am having someone else’s baby, and they’re going to start stopping me in the street and chastising me for something I didn’t even do?

  I try calling John once more and it goes straight to voicemail. “Listen, John,” I say, trying to speak clearly despite my tears. “I didn’t sleep with anyone else. That’s the truth. The baby is yours. It was conceived that first night we were together, back in the Hamptons where we met. I didn’t want to tell you because things were going so great. And I kept meaning to tell you. Oh, I’m so sorry John. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life. It’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever done in my whole life too, and I can’t believe I’ve done it to you the person I care the most about in the whole world.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s true. John is the person I care the most about. I don’t care that he’s a billionaire. But I care about him and I want him to be mine. If he was here right now I’d propose to him, even though I’ve always been a traditionalist in that respect. Men should propose to women, except in extreme circumstances. But, hey, that’s just my opinion. What do I know?

  The wind is cold but I start walking home. The light in the sky is fading. The city scape has never looked so sinister to me.

  Walking on my own sure isn’t as easy as being driven by John in one of his luxury cars. But that’s not what’s hurting right now. No, it’s not the pain in my feet, but the pain in my heart, where it feels like John tore out a piece of my beating heart. But, in reality, it was me who did it. It’s all my fault and I can’t blame John for how he’s reacting.

  I get home and start cleaning the apartment. In a way, I guess I’m trying to absolve my sins through cleanliness. I don’t think it’s ever worked for anyone before and it’s certainly not working for me now, but at least it’s giving me something to do.

  I fall asleep on the couch, one hand on the broom and the other on the small vacuum cleaner.

  I wake up early in the morning, six o’clock, and immediately regret waking up. Coming from the land of dreams, now I have to face reality again. And it’s a reality I don’t want to face, where John doesn’t want to have anything to do with me and I hurt him in one of the worst ways I possibly could. It’s a world where only I am to blame. How could I blame John at all?

  Grabbing my phone is the first thing I do, but there still isn’t any word from John. I send him another text, and then an email, in case there’s some problem with his phone (even though I don’t that’s not a possibility.)

  I decide I’ve got to go to work after all, despite everything’s that’s happened, and I gather up my things.

  The day is horrible. Still no word from John. This is the worst day ever. A horrible hazy depression hangs over me and I make a billion mistakes at work that I cant’ avoid at all.

  “Are you OK, Sarah?” asks one of my coworkers, when I almost give a guy the wrong amount of money.

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so,” I say.

  “You poor girl,” she says. She starts telling me how she’s been in a similar situation and everything turned out all right.

  “Thanks,” I say. “It’s really nice to have people to talk to.”

  In the end, though, she just was talking to me because she needed to borrow money. She figured that since I was dating a billionaire and all, I’d have a couple extra dollars to throw out to a sympathetic coworker.

  “Sorry,” I tell her. “I’m barely paying rent as it is and my billionaire boyfriend won’t call me back.”

  17

  John

  A few weeks go by and I try not to think about Sarah. I don’t know what’s come over me but I just don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to feel that hurt that she made me feel. I figure that if I just kind of ignore the situation and pretend nothing’s going on I can stay in this numb state for a long time.

  Anyway, the business demands a lot of my attention so I’ve at least got something to occupy my time.

  “So what are you going to do?” says Jeff to me, after one meeting.

  “About the stocks?” I say, annoyed. “What the hell do you think we just had that whole meeting about? Were you drunk or asleep or something?”

  “No,” says Jeff, calmly. “I mean about Sarah… You haven’t mentioned her at all this last week. Or maybe it’s been two weeks. And you seem… I don’t know, I’m just worried about you.”

  “Well don’t concern yourself with me,” I say. “I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.”

  “That’s all fine and well,” says Jeff, leaning in closer to me. “But she’s pregnant, right?”

  I nod stiffly. Doesn’t he know that? Is he some kind of idiot or is he a hermit who hasn’t seen the news in years? “Yeah,” I say. “She’s pregnant and if you haven’t noticed that’s the whole problem.”

  “OK,” says Jeff, still talking to me calmly even though I’m being an asshole to him. “I get that. And whatever you decide to do with your relationship is up to you. I don’t want to get in the middle of that. Believe me. I just want to make sure you’re thinking this thing through.”

  “What do you mean thinking it through?” I say, growing angrier by the second. Why the fuck does he think it’s any of his business? I’m speaking to him now through obviously gritted teeth.

  “It’s just that you’ve got to think of the baby, man,” says Jeff. “You’ve got to find out if it’s yours because if it is don’t you think you have like a moral responsibility or something to help raise it?”

  I’m silent and in shock. Yeah, I guess I hadn’t even thought about it.

  “You OK?” says Jeff. “You look like you’re going to pass out.

  My face feels completely drained. I feel like I’m going to faint. But billionaire CEOs don’t faint, so I don’t. I take a couple more deep breaths.

  How had I not thought about that? About the kid? Am I really that selfish? I’ve just been thinking about my own hurt feelings?

  “I’m OK,” I finally say. “I think you’re right, Jeff. I should see about the kid.”

  I walk back to my office and shut the door behind me. I still have on the heavy metal music that I was listening to before.

  I try to clear my head by doing some meditation. That is, I try to clear my head, because I know that I’m going to have to call her soon. I’m going to have to call Sarah.

  But the meditation isn’t working. Maybe I need to take a ride through Manhattan on one of my motorcycles.

  I don’t have any of my motorcycle gear with me though.

  Maybe that’s not such a good idea though. I can see how it would play out now: I’m frustrated, and I weave through the traffic as fast as I can. I’m being more careless than usual, and I get in an accident. They rush me to the hospital where they at least attend to me because I’m rich and have good insurance—the hospital knows I’m good for the treatment essentially and they’re not going to throw me out on the street like they might… Anyway, then Sarah comes rushing to my side, but at that point I’ve already slipped into a coma and then a couple weeks later I die. She gives birth to a beautiful baby and I’m not around to see it.

  I shake my head, trying to get the fantasy out of here. No, that’s not what I want to happen. After all, I might be a father. I might be a father. T
he words ring through my head. Doesn’t that mean I’ve got to act responsible now? Hell, if I really am a father I might have to sell all the motorcycles or only ride them in safer conditions. And New York City certainly isn’t what I would call safe conditions.

  OK. Time to call her. Time to call Sarah.

  Just thinking her name gets my mind going off onto a fantasy. It’s been so long that I’ve thought about her that now that I do, well, my body reacts. My cock is swelling up as I picture her naked body in my mind’s eye. There’s no one else like her in the world. I realize now that it’s not just lust though that I feel for. It’s something much, much more. I’ve just never told her. Why not? Maybe this is all my fault. Maybe if I hadn’t been so closed off from her, maybe if I’d told her my feelings, then maybe she wouldn’t have felt the need to keep this a secret from me for so long?

  OK. Fuck it. I’ve got to call her. Something’s holding me back. I manage to press the call button next to her name.

  But I hang up before the first ring even sounds.

  I almost put the phone back on my desk, but to my surprise it rings. Is it Sarah?

  Maybe. It’s an unknown number.

  “Hello?” I say, my voice shaking since I’m half expecting it to be Sarah calling me back.

  “Hi, John Clark?” says a voice that sounds a little familiar.”

  “Speaking,” I say.

  “Hi,” says the female voice. “This is Janet, Sarah’s friend.”

  “Oh,” I say. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” says Janet. I can’t read the tone of her voice. “Listen, Sarah wanted me to call you. I’m not sure if you got her message, but…”

  Her message?

  “No,” I say. “I didn’t get a message from her.”

  “Oh,” says Janet. “Well, I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this. But I’ll tell you anyway. This kid is yours.”

  That almost floors me.

  I don’t know whether to cry or smile. I don’t know how to react.

  “That’s not what I called to tell you, though,” says Janet. “That’s just the prelude to the next part.”

  “OK,” I manage to say. “Just tell me. Is it bad news?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” says Janet. “What I’m supposed to tell you is that Sarah’s having some potential complications with the pregnancy. And she thought you should know.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Of course I should know. I’m glad you called, Janet.”

  “OK,” says Janet, not sounding the least bit pleased. I can tell she still heartily disapproves of me.

  “What kind of complications?” I say.

  “She’s not feeling well,” says Janet. “Some stomach pains and… A slight fever. We’re not sure what it is. So we’re in the emergency room now.”

  “OK,” I say. “I’ll be right over.”

  “Good,” says Janet.

  She tersely tells me which hospital she’s in and then hangs up the phone without even saying goodbye.

  Holy shit I’m a father.

  I’m a father. I’m going to be a father.

  The words run through my head over and over as I sit in a stunned daze at my office desk, the heavy metal music still playing loudly around me.

  But there’s not much time to dwell on this amazing fact. Sarah could be in trouble. I just hope she hasn’t gotten some butcher for a doctor. I need to get over there and see if I can use my connections and money to get her the best doctor that they have.

  “I’m headed out,” I say to one of the secretaries on the way out, brushing past everyone who tries to talk to me.

  I don’t even put on my jacket before stepping into the cold garage below.

  There are a couple of my cars here, as well as a few of my motorcycles.

  Looking at the cars, I realize that at this time of day, it’s going to take me forever to get over to the hospital during this traffic. The motorcycle might not be the safest, but it’s going to be the fastest, and I need to be responsible…but does being responsible always mean doing the safest thing? I don’t think so, and I walk over to the bike.

  I start the bike, not even bothering to put on a helmet, since I don’t have one down here with me. I’m not wearing any protective gear at all, and as I exit the garage, the wind is already cold and I’m not even moving fast yet.

  This might be a bad idea, I think to myself, as I shift gears and merge into traffic.

  But the cold wind and the potential danger of a crash isn’t enough to deter me from keeping Sarah safe, from making sure our baby is safe.

  The thought that Sarah and I aren’t really talking really doesn’t enter my head yet…

  18

  Sarah

  “It’s going to be OK, Sarah,” says Janet, holding my hand.

  “But we haven’t even gotten in to sea the doctor yet,” I say, the annoyance and worry probably unmistakable in my voice.

  “I’ll go talk to the secretary,” says Janet, getting up from the uncomfortable emergency room waiting chairs and walking over to the secretary.

  I watch as the conversation progresses, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Since I know Janet, I just hope she’s being vaguely polite.

  Janet walks back with her hands in her pockets. “No luck,” she says.

  “Did you explain that I’m pregnant?” I say. I always thought emergency rooms would give special preference to pregnant women.

  Janet nods her head.

  “So John said he was coming?” I say. I realize that I’m holding out hope that John will fix everything, even though we haven’t been talking much. Well, not at all, really. With each passing day since I left that message, I’ve gotten angrier and angrier with him. I still feel angry with him today, but I don’t know what else to go or who to turn to. I’m terrified of losing the baby right now and the hospital staff doesn’t seem to care.

  I have every right to be angry with him. He refused to take my calls even when I left him that message telling him that I’m carrying his very own baby. Who the hell does that? It doesn’t sound like John, that’s for sure.

  Then I start blaming myself. I start telling myself that it’s all my fault for keeping this a secret from him for so long. But there’s only so much you can beat yourself up before you start looking for other people to blame.

  “He said he didn’t get your message about him being the father,” says Janet.

  “What?” I say, completely taken aback with surprise.

  “You heard me. He didn’t get your message about being the father.”

  “Are you sure?” I say.

  Janet shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she says. “That’s what he told me anyway.”

  Unlike me, I’ve never known John to lie. Not ever. Not even when it’s to his great advantage. So I guess he’s telling the truth.

  “So he’s coming over?” I say.

  “Yeah,” says Janet.

  But an hour goes by and John still isn’t here. I start having all sorts of worries and feeling sick on top of the worries isn’t helping at all. What if John has decided to abandon me and the baby after all? What if he’s had enough of me and just decided to leave me here to rot in the hospital?

  Or, even worse (or is it worse, since what’s worse than being abandoned like that?) he’s had some kind of terrible accident on his way here to the hospital. I know how he likes to ride his motorcycles and he fancies himself quite the racer. He actually was a racer, and in his younger years, he actually did compete as a semi pro motorcycle racer. But those days are long behind him and he never talks about them. I wonder if his reflexes are still up to what he now thinks his skill level is.

  “This is taking forever,” says Janet, giving me a worried look.

  “Hey,” I say. “At least you’re not the one that’s sick.”

  “Yeah…” Janet starts speaking but I don’t give her a chance to finish.

  Instead, I start vomiting all over the place.

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry,” I manage to say, starting to choke a little on my own vomit. I’m gagging and I’ve now got vomit all over my face and the front of my shirt.

  Is this my lowest point? In the hospital emergency room, covered in vomit, sick as a stray dog.

  If it is, then John picks a hell of a time to show up.

  He rushes into the emergency room through the main doors, looking around wildly. He’s wearing a t-shirt that’s torn across the back, as if he was sliced with a large knife. His hair is wild and his eyes shine with fury or worry.

  “There you are!” he says, crying out as he sees me.

  He rushes up to me and gives me a huge hug before I can do anything.

  His strong arms wrap around me and for a moment I completely forget that I’m covered in vomit and that I’m sick and that I don’t know what’s happening with the baby.

  “She’s covered in vomit,” cuts in Janet’s voice, and John look surprised and I think for a moment that he’s going to pull away but in the end he just shrugs his shoulders and goes back to hugging me.

  “I don’t care that I’m not covered in vomit,” he says. “I didn’t get your message ever. I just heard it from Janet. Honest. I thought it was someone else’s kid. I didn’t know it was mine… You didn’t have to hide it from me. I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “I’m the one who’s so sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have ever done that to you, no matter what. I should never have lied to you.”

  The last thing I remember is John hugging me tightly and feeling the happiest I’ve felt in a long time. Then I remember feeling very, very sick despite feeling happy. Then my vision went black and I suppose I passed out because the next thing I know I’m lying in a hospital bed with some people in the corner of the room.

  “She’s awake,” says someone.

  It’s John.

  “Hey, baby,” he says, leaning over me and taking my hand. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be all right.”

  “I can’t…” but I’m too weak to talk. I can’t even think of what it is I wanted to say.