Making His Baby: A Billionaire Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  Hannah floats near the door, clearly conflicted. It angers me because she has no business being conflicted. Her life is neatly paved out with no exit ramps in sight. She’s so young and perky and has a loving boyfriend who sends her flowers just because it’s Tuesday. She needs to cut out the conflicted shit.

  “Go.” I shoo her out. “Thanks for the concern, but I need to be alone right now.”

  “If you’re sure.” Hannah frowns. “I put the boxes on your desk.”

  “I’ll look at them tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’ll go.” She hesitates at the door again. “Have a good night, Kate.”

  I wave over my shoulder and stare at the TV. I hear the door click behind me and I jump up to pull across the chain so no one else with a key can come in. I didn’t even remember giving Hannah a key, but everything is sort of fuzzy right now anyway.

  I turn on the TV and it cues up a freeze frame of the video I made of my night with Eric. My fist closes around the remote until it aches. What did I do to this man that made him ignore me after we shared such an intense afternoon together?

  I was so close to telling him I loved him. I know he thought about telling me the same. Now, nothing. He didn’t get to be scared. He didn’t get to hide. I couldn’t hide, why should he? Did he get bored of me? Did he decide sex with the same person got boring and he wanted to go back to fishing in the local pools again?

  Stupid men. They were all the same. I should have become a nun the last time I thought about it. I’m not religious but maybe I can tell them I’m curious. Or maybe I can lie. Enough time in this stupid town has made me pretty good at it.

  Across the apartment, my phone rings. I trip over the couch trying to get it and probably break my toe. I struggle back to my feet and limp to the kitchen counter, but it switches to voicemail before I can grab it.

  It was Eric.

  I immediately hit the redial button, but get sent straight to voicemail. After three tries, I give up. He’ll see I called and call back, surely. I pace in the kitchen, waiting for his call again.

  The corkscrew sits on top of the coffee maker. How did it get there?

  The ringtone for a voicemail chimes and I fly to the app to listen. I want to just hear his voice again, more than anything. I want to hear him say he’s been busy and he’s sorry he hasn’t been in touch. I want to hear him say he needs me again.

  “It’s me. This is the last time I’ll call. It’s over, Kate. I’m your husband’s lawyer and I’m not going to get disbarred over this. Don’t bother calling me anymore.”

  The message ends and I stare at my phone. There is no way I heard what I think I did. It was the wine talking. I replay it three times. By then, tears stream down my face and I can’t breathe. A guttural scream erupts out of me and I throw my wine glass against the wall.

  It shatters into a hundred pieces. Just like me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ERIC

  “Another, Becky.” I drop the shot glass on the bar and nudge it forward. “Better make it two.”

  “And a water.” Paxton says.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Big water.”

  “I hate you. Why are we friends?”

  “We bonded over a joint hatred of Geoff.”

  “You both can go straight to hell.” Geoff says it like he’s waving off flies. Getting laid cleaned him up good. “And be nice to Becky tonight.”

  “I am being nice. I’m padding her tip as we speak.” I say. “Tell your girlfriend to make them extra strong.”

  “That’s a surefire bet to get diluted shots, big guy.” Becky slides two more shots of whiskey in front of me. “You should probably have some water.”

  “I liked you better when you wanted my dick.”

  “Oh, darling.” Becky laughs. “I never wanted your dick. I just wanted your money.”

  Paxton and Geoff both erupt in hoots and hollers when Becky walks away. I clutch my hand to my chest and play it up big to distract from just how big a blow that is. She can only be saying that right now because she’s banging Geoff. Surely.

  “That’s my girl.” Geoff beams.

  “Fuck women.” I steer the conversation so we don’t have to talk about the burn Becky just dished out. “They are all terrible creatures. Men are terrible creatures. We are all terrible creatures who deserve to be burned on the sun.”

  “Shit, man.” Paxton frowns at me. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

  “Life.”

  “For fucks sake. Don’t be a drama queen. You’re better than that shit.”

  “Nah, he just got played.” Geoff says a little too smugly. “A woman used the stupid game he plays against him and he can’t deal.”

  “Nobody played me.”

  “You know, Geoff. I don’t say this often, but I think you’re right.” Paxton says. “That sounds exactly right.”

  “Whatever.” I shoot the whiskey and chase it with a beer. “Let’s talk about Geoff’s sex life.”

  “Oh, hell no.” Geoff laughs. “You aren’t going to throw me under the bus. Just admit that you treat women like shit and now that it’s finally turned on you, it sucks. Admit that you learned you need to treat people with more respect.”

  I glower at him over my bottle.

  “Man, you got railroaded by the McArthurs, didn’t you? All you could see was dollar signs and they burned the shit out of you. I mean, I wouldn’t say I told you so, but I fucking love saying I told you so.”

  “No.” I say firmly. “I don’t get played. I used her like I used all the other women in this fucking town and then dropped her just as fast. I feel like shit because my jackass client is giving me an ulcer.”

  “Ah, yes. So you’re drinking the ulcer away. Great plan.” Paxton snorts. “I would respect you a hell of a lot more if you’d just admit you got in over your head.”

  “Never happened.”

  “You really are a shitty attorney.” Geoff says. “Terrible liar. How do you make so much more money than I do?”

  “Because you’re a horrendously shitty lawyer.”

  “Says the guy who’s about to lose his ass over the biggest case of his career.”

  “Fuck off.” I snap. I need to get out of here, but I’ve run out of places to go to. Maybe I should just go home and sleep until the hearing. “I need new friends.”

  “No, you need to get your priorities in order. The same thing I’ve been telling you for almost two months.” Paxton throws a punch at my shoulder. “I told you she was trouble.”

  “You told me you wanted to fuck her.”

  “There are a lot of people I want to fuck. You don’t see me cut up about not doing it.”

  On the TV above the bar, the interview I set up for David is re-airing. The closed captioning can barely keep up with him as he outlines Kate’s infidelity and his broken heart. It’s mostly bullshit, but I can’t shake how insistent he is about sleeping with Kate during this process.

  I’ve heard him tell a lot of fake stories, but he showed me the pictures to prove it. That’s what I get for letting my emotions out of their cage: betrayed and fucked over. Never again.

  “That interview is probably the best damn thing you’ve done in a while.” Paxton points to the TV. “Evens out the playing field a bit. Have you offloaded those pictures yet?”

  “What pictures?” Geoff asks.

  “From the photo shoot Casanova over here staged with McArthur’s ex.”

  “You were serious?” Geoff says, judgment pouring out of him. “I thought you were just being an asshole.”

  “He is an asshole, but he was always serious.”

  “Christ, Eric. You could lose your license over that shit.”

  “Worse things can happen.” I deadpan.

  “For an attorney? Not really.”

  “Who did you send them to?” Paxton says again.

  “I haven’t decided yet.” I don’t bother looking at either of them. Instead, I watch David continue to spew his bullshit stor
y for the world to eat up.

  Despite everything, despite the betrayal, I can’t shake the feeling that I did something awful with this. Yes, she betrayed me, but does it count if it’s with the guy she’s legally attached to? Do two wrongs make a right?

  Fucking Vivian and her morals. I need to purge her from my head, too.

  “You need to dump those soon. Bolster your case so it can be over as fast as it starts. No three-day plea for you.”

  “He should not.” Geoff shakes his head. “That’s falsifying evidence. That’s a felony.”

  “Does it count, though, if it’s in family court?”

  “You guys really are the worst goddamn attorneys I’ve ever met. Do you know what morals are?”

  “No.” Paxton grins. “Because I’m an attorney.”

  Geoff rolls his eyes and mutters something about fulfilling stereotypes. I ignore him and flag Becky down for another shot. I watch her carefully to make sure she doesn’t top it off with water. I paid my way through UCLA by bartending. I know all their tricks.

  “You need to shred those pictures.” Geoff taps my shoulder. “Don’t screw yourself over in the process. Let them destroy each other and walk away with clean hands.”

  “Nobody in this fucking town has clean hands.” I mutter.

  “Oh, give that shit a rest.” Geoff rolls his eyes. “I’m so tired of listening to this ‘woe is me’ routine where you pretend you’re so persecuted against because you live in one of the largest and most thriving towns in the country. Corruption is everywhere, Eric. You aren’t special because you live here.”

  “Can it, Geoff.”

  “No. You have to stop acting like you have the worst goddamn job in the world. Everyone has to deal with shit at work. Have you ever had to represent a murderer? No? You just get to sit in your cush office and cast judgment on how other people live their lives? Boo-fucking-hoo. It’s so hard to be Eric Stevens.”

  I shove my chair back from the table and throw on my jacket. “I don’t need your shit. Not from either of you. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  “We hear you bitching enough to know.”

  “Whatever. I don’t have to explain myself.” I throw down two twenties on the bar and storm off without another word.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  KATE

  The toilet is my new best friend. Fifteen minutes after my last round of hurling, my cheek is still glued to the cool porcelain seat. I’ve never in my life been more grateful for a housekeeper than today.

  Clean toilets are the best toilets.

  I don’t even know what day it is. What time of day it is. Wonderland has officially chewed me up and spit me out. For what I can only assume has been the last four days, I’ve completely lost a sense of reality.

  I’m caught up in the current of karmic bullshit and spiraling into oblivion. Also, maybe I’ve watched too many soap operas lately and the drama is now infused in my soul. That happens when you’ve done nothing but eat club crackers and puke everything else up.

  “Kate?” Lily calls from the front of my apartment. “Where are you?”

  I left the top latch undone so she could find me. So I could stay on my porcelain pillow and not move. Moving is terrible. I’m not even certain what is making me so sick at this point. It could honestly be a dozen different things. Or all of them at once.

  “Oh, honey.” Lily says, trying to keep the pity out of her voice and failing. She sits next to me and feels my forehead. “You look miserable.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” I groan. “It’s so much worse than it looks.”

  “Maybe it’s not? Okay, shit right now is really bad, but it could always be worse, right? Give me a minute, I’ll think of something.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ve spent all day brainstorming. It’s still shit.”

  “I brought wine. It might settle your stomach?” Lily sets the bottle next to me on the floor. My favorite Pinot Grigio. “I can get one of those super long crazy straws so you can drink it from right here.”

  I shake my head slowly, in case I upset anything left in my stomach. “Can’t.”

  “I can stash it in the fridge until you’re back on your feet. There’s nothing wine can’t cure.”

  “Oh.” I draw the word out with a shaky breath. “I’ve found something.”

  “Did you already have too much?”

  I unfurl my fist braced against the floor and hold the pregnancy tests out for Lily to see. Her face cycles rapidly from confusion to horror. She takes them from me and studies each one for an eternity. Turns them upside, flips them over, looks again. Repeats the process for each.

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Ta-da.” I groan again.

  “What can I get you?” Lily dumps them in the sink and grabs a washcloth from the sink. “Club soda? Crackers?”

  “Nothing works. I don’t know.”

  She places the cold cloth against my forehead and I want to cry from relief. Not only is it cool, but to have someone take care of me in the throes of the worst few days of my life is enough to make me cry. I’m not alone. It feels like it a lot, but at this very second there is someone here to take off some of the load.

  I cry because I don’t know what else to do. I didn’t think I had any more tears, but there they are, spilling down my cheeks. Lily dabs them gently with a crumpled piece of toilet paper and kisses my forehead.

  “Let’s get you out of the bathroom. Are you up for walking?”

  “Maybe?”

  Lily helps me up and slowly, patiently, walks me to the living room and sets me up on the couch. She runs to the kitchen and returns with iced club soda and a massive empty pot for puking. Guess I won’t be making spaghetti again for a while.

  “Talk to me. How long have you known? Just today?” She tucks me into the couch with a soft blanket and places the damp cloth back on my head.

  “I think I’ve known for a while. I haven’t been feeling well and always chalked it up to stress.” I spit out a hollow laugh. “Nope. There’s just a human growing inside my body. One I’m supposed to take care of.”

  I cry again. It bubbles out of me in sharp bursts because the dam has been shattered and nothing is left to protect me from the thoughts spiraling in my brain.

  Life is so cruel.

  “Do you…” Lily’s face contorts. “Do you know whose it is?”

  I nod slowly. I haven’t been able to speak the words since I found out. Saying it is too terrible. Saying it out loud makes it real.

  This can’t be real.

  “Dammit.” Lily breathes. “It’s David’s, isn’t it?”

  Sobs erupt from me as I nod, once. Lily hugs me tight and kisses my forehead, and I cry into her shoulder. My head throbs and my throat screams and my heart feels like it’s going to shatter.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Date of last missed period.” I take a shaky breath to calm down. “I haven’t had one in two months. I thought it was stress at first, right? Totally normal. But…”

  “The night before mediation.” Lily murmurs and shakes her head. “The drunken goodbye fuck made a baby.”

  “And I’ve been a raging alcoholic. I’m killing this baby before it even has a chance, Lily.”

  “Stop that.” Lily says kindly and wipes my cheeks. “Plenty of women get knocked up by accident while they are out partying. Shit, my mom was on a vodka diet when she conceived me in the back of my dad’s Volvo in the eighties, okay? You are going to be okay.”

  “I don’t think so.” My lip quivers and my head feels like it’s caving in. “I really don’t. And every time I think about going to a… clinic… I start to have a panic attack. I can’t do that, Lily. I can’t. I can’t.”

  “Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Lily soothes. I don’t believe her, but her voice is low and calm, so I try to focus on that.

  “But—”

  “Baby girl, this will be glorious, okay? I will be with you the whole time. I will hold your hair when yo
u puke and I will rub your feet and I will hold your hand for every doctor’s appointment. Fuck all the men in the world. Aunt Lily will be here for every second.”

  “Promise?”

  “On my life.” Lily hooks her pinkie around mine. “You’d be here to do the same for me. Maybe we can move in together and I’ll be there to help with whatever you need.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that. I can’t ask you to change your whole life for me.”

  “Kate Lilliana Monroe McArthur. You listen to me right now. You are my best friend in the whole world. I would have died from alcohol poisoning twice if it wasn’t for you in college. I’d be trapped in a dead-end job forever if it wasn’t for you. I’d be friendless on my own if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Whatever. You’d do the same for me.” I try to wipe away the tears that keep falling.

  “Exactly. So here I am. And we’ll get through this together. We don’t need David.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ERIC

  “Mr. Evans is here to see you.” Sophie steps into my office. “Do you want me to tell him it’ll be a few minutes?”

  “Two minutes and send him in. I’ll deal with the rest of this later.” I don’t look up from my laptop, still transcribing notes from the last meeting I had with David. His evidence of Kate’s infidelity was nothing more than feelings, but it was still something I could leverage against her.

  Funny how the priorities change when you find someone’s been screwing you over. I can almost empathize with some of my clients. Almost. The difference is I don’t cry over anyone. I either get even or pretend they don’t exist.

  In the meantime, I’m going to hammer her to a wall. In the least sexual way possible. And then walk away from this shitshow as light as a feather.

  “Eric? Ronnie Evans. Pleasure to meet you.” A jolly bearded guy in a cheap sports coat walks into my office with a briefcase under one arm and the other extended for a handshake. “I was very excited to get your call.”

  “Ronnie! The pleasure is mine.” I take his hand. “Please, have a seat. Forgive me if this goes a little wonky. I usually have Sophie handle this, but given the context, I thought it best to meet in person.”