The Billionaires Surprise Baby: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance

by West, Harper

  “Kids, Uncle Tyler and Logan are here,” she points out, “Go play with them.”

  The older two kids barrel towards Tyler, squealing and rushing in to hug him. Even the baby in Tammy’s arms seems to be reaching towards him.

  “Rugrats!” Tyler says, excitedly.

  “Who's this?" Anders asks, pointing at me. He hides behind his mother. Great, I've scared him, and I haven't even opened my mouth.

  “This is my friend Logan,” Tyler says.

  I kneel to meet Anders at his eye-level and extend my hand. He doesn’t shake it. I look over to Karen who is cowering a little. The baby starts to cry again.

  This isn’t going well.

  Tammy smiles at me as she passes the crying baby to Tyler. “Good to see you again, Logan,” she says warmly, stopping to hug me hello.

  I kiss her on the cheek. “You too, Tammy.”

  She finds her jacket and puts it on, already on her way out the door. “You two sure about this?”

  “We’ll be fine,” Tyler assures her, sitting down on the sofa to bounce baby Brandon on his knee.

  Tammy looks back at me. I must look terrified.

  But I nod anyway.

  Chapter 15

  Tyler

  I thought that Logan was underestimating his inability to connect to children.

  He was not.

  The entire afternoon, Logan was stiff, awkward, and uncomfortable. When Anders asked what his job was, Logan explained it to him like the six-year-old was capable of understanding investing. When Karen started crying after she fell and skinned her knee, Logan just kind of knelt next to her uncomfortably and asked if she wanted a Band-Aid instead of picking her up and telling her everything was okay.

  Also, he didn’t have a Band-Aid on him.

  But the worst was when he was with Brandon. I figured the baby might be the best idea for him as he wouldn’t have to talk or entertain anyone. I was wrong. He held the infant at arm’s length most of the time. When I told him to hold him closer to the body, he clutched poor Brandon like a football.

  The whole time, Logan looked like spiders were crawling up his skin, and he visibly panicked every time Brandon squirmed or cried. At one point, I thought he was going to shake the poor baby, he was trembling so much.

  My sister had taken pity on me and told her kids to be on their best behavior with the threat of losing television time if I reported back to her that they were misbehaving. But still, I was responsible for three energetic children under seven years old, and my almost catatonic, anxiety-ridden best friend, so I was in over my head.

  Thankfully, my sister comes home on time, primped, polished, buffed and coiffed. And maybe a little buzzed on the complimentary champagne. But she looks more relaxed, which was the goal, and since Logan and I did manage to put the kids to bed without any major drama, she should have a pretty quiet evening to unwind.

  We get back into my car and head into the city. Logan is still silent.

  “You okay?” I ask him.

  He doesn’t answer. I give him a nudge.

  “I can’t do this,” he says softly. He sounds ashamed of himself. He probably is. “I’m going to call Ivy and tell her that I’ll take care of anything and everything that she and Oliver will ever need financially. But I can’t see him. Not after that. I can’t handle doing that every day.”

  I keep driving.

  I feel strange. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, though. It’s uncomfortable.

  “Can you pull over at the gas station?” he asks, “I could use a coffee.”

  We're making good time, and I really don't want to pull over. We're almost there anyway.

  I find myself getting really irritated by the request.

  “Tyler, did you hear me?” he says, “Could you pull over?”

  “No, Logan, I can’t fucking pull over for a fucking cup of coffee right now,” I snap at him.

  He looks astounded, and I totally understand why. The whole dynamic of our relationship has been Logan asks for something and Tyler makes it happen. It’s my job. And it usually never bothers me.

  But right now…

  “You’re being a selfish bastard, Logan,” I shout at him, “I know you’re anxious about being a parent, but fucking man up and get over it. Oliver is here. He’s in your life. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “I know that,” Logan says, swallowing hard.

  “Do you?” I continue, still at full volume, “Because Ivy deals with all that shit every fucking day. By herself. And she did something that she really, really didn’t have to do. She gave you a choice whether or not you want to be involved. She could’ve demanded that you step up. She has every right to ask that.”

  Logan looks like a shamed puppy; his eyes are a little red, and he’s staring at the floor. But I’m not done.

  “Ivy doesn't need your fucking money, Logan," I say, "Her kid needs its parents. She needs your support. I understand your issues with your parents, and I'm not trying to trivialize them, but you need to get your ass to therapy and deal with your problems like an adult so that you can show up for your kid better than you were able to do today."

  Logan sighs but doesn’t say anything. I don’t stop the car.

  Finally, he looks up from the floor.

  “You’re right,” he tells me, “I’ll make an appointment on Monday.”

  This time, I don’t say anything.

  But I do pull over at the nearest gas station so that Logan can get his coffee. I feel like he’s finally earned it.

  When we get back to the apartment, Logan heads straight for his bedroom and barricades himself inside. I do, however, hear him leaving voicemails for a few different therapists, so I’m glad that yelling at him and risking both my job and our friendship was worth it.

  I’m spent, though. Not so much physically, but I’m emotionally drained.

  I shower and change into black sweat pants and a thin tee shirt, but the thought of getting into my bed just makes me kind of depressed. Because my bed is empty. And smells like me. And my walls are blank, and my sheets are cold.

  And I miss Ivy.

  After today, all I want to do is take her in my arms and feel the warm weight of her as she dozes against my chest. I want to breathe in her smell and feel her heart beat against mine.

  Most of all, I want to finish what we started that night.

  That can’t happen, I know, but I need to be around her right now. I need calm and quiet, and to know that she’s okay.

  “I’m going out,” I call to Logan, though I know he’s too wrapped up in whatever he’s doing to care where I’m going.

  I know that I should call or text Ivy and make sure she’s home and doesn’t have company or anything, but that thought doesn’t occur to me until I’m at her door, knocking lightly.

  She answers, wearing an oversized tee shirt and pajama pants with little pink hearts on them. She has no makeup on, and her hair is in a messy knot. And she isn’t wearing a bra.

  “Tyler, what are you doing here?” she asks in a soft voice.

  I wrap my arms around her and pull her to my chest.

  “What’re you doing?” She isn’t resisting my holding her, but she’s a little shocked. “Is everything okay?” She sounds genuinely worried.

  “Everything’s fine,” I assure her. Guiding her head to my shoulder and letting her curl up against me.

  “Do you want to come inside?”

  I nod. She tries to break away from me to lead me inside, but I don’t let her go.

  “Not yet,” I whisper. She settles in and lets me hold her for a few precious minutes. I breathe in the scent of her light, floral shampoo and I finally feel a little better. A little lighter. A little less alone.

  She finally wriggles out of my tight grasp to lead me inside and closes the door behind us.

  “Can I sleep here?” I ask her softly.

  “Is that really a good idea?” she asks.

  I chuckle softly. “My intentions are
completely honorable," I tell her, “I just want to sleep. I need…”

  She waits for me to finish my thought.

  “I need to be near you. I can’t explain it.”

  Thankfully, she doesn't seem to need me to. She leads me into her bedroom and closes that door behind us too. She pulls back the fresh, peach-colored sheets and her cozy quilt and we climb underneath them. I lie down on my side, and Ivy fits herself against me, her back to my front so we can spoon.

  “Christ, that feels good,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.

  “Yeah it does,” she agrees.

  “I miss this.”

  “Me too,” she says wistfully, “I wish Logan were with us.”

  “I know. I’m sure he wishes that too.”

  She murmurs her agreement.

  “I took him to see Tammy’s kids today. Spend the day with them,” I tell her.

  “How’d that go?”

  I find myself starting to say something sarcastic, but I stop myself. Logan’s hang-ups are real, and they deserve more respect than an offhanded, snarky comment.

  “It was rough,” I tell her finally, “He’s pretty freaked out by kids. I thought he was going to have a full-on panic attack while holding a six-month-old.”

  “Oh, God."

  “Yeah.”

  Ivy shifts so she's facing me. "You know," she says, "I had terrible panic attacks when I was pregnant. I was worried about how I was going to do it all on my own. How I was going to keep the company going. How I was going to tell my family. That kind of thing."

  “I’m sure.”

  “But then, after Oliver was born…”

  “It all went away?” I ask, almost positive that that’s what she’ll say.

  “Exactly the opposite,” she confesses, “I had terrible postpartum depression. I was listless. Tired. Stressed. This is going to sound ridiculous, but I blamed my newborn son for the loss of my company and my relationship.”

  “It doesn’t sound ridiculous.”

  “I resented my baby for being born,” she says.

  “Postpartum isn’t ridiculous, Ivy,” I tell her, making her look me in the eye. “My mom had it after both me and Tammy. Tammy had it terribly after Brandon was born. It took her months to be able to feel happy again.”

  She nods. “Even after everything happened and I lost you guys and Lawrence Vines, I wouldn’t trade Oliver to get it back.”

  I smile.

  “But I can't say that I always thought that," she says. She cringes. "God, that makes me such a terrible mother, doesn't it?"

  “Not at all," I tell her. And I mean it. "There's this idea out there… Maybe we get it from sitcoms, or maybe it's just tradition, but we think that women are just supposed to be immediately overjoyed with pregnancy and motherhood. Like it's that simple. And some are. But we forget that, for others, it's not so easy and seamless."

  She gets quiet. Maybe she’s falling asleep.

  “I was so alone,” she finally says. Her voice is barely audible. “So scared.”

  I can’t stop myself from holding her tighter.

  “I’m here now, Ivy,” I tell her, stroking her hair and closing my eyes. “Now that you’re back in my life, I’m not going anywhere. Me and Logan…”

  “Logan won’t come.”

  “He's got a lot of things to work on," I agree with her, "But he'll come around." I don't go as far as to tell her that Logan plans to see a therapist to work through some of his issues so that he can be a part of Oliver's life. That's his business, and he'll tell her when he's ready.

  She sighs against me. “I’m glad you’re here tonight, Tyler.”

  I try to drift off to sleep, but it won’t come. I have one more thing on my mind.

  “What would it take to get us back together, Ivy?” I ask in a soft whisper.

  “Tyler…”

  “I miss you. I miss everything about you,” I confess, “I had a rough day today. Logan did too. And the only thing I wanted at the end of it all was to be here in this bed with you. And I know he feels the same way even if he’ll never admit it out loud.”

  “I don’t kn0w.”

  “I’ll do anything. We’ll do anything,” I assure her, squeezing her tightly to me. “If it means that I can come home to this every night. If it means that we can be a family.”

  “That’s exactly it, Tyler,” she says, “We’d have to really be a family. Oliver and I are a package deal now. I can’t let him get attached to two people who are going to leave once the going gets tough. You guys dealt with kids for one day. Oliver is here every day. You can’t return him to your sister when you get antsy.”

  “I know that.”

  “And you can’t just have me around for sex and then expect me to do all the childcare work if we’re going to be the way we used to be,” she says, “If we’re back together, you two have to take an active part in his life, not just mine. You have to really make room for him.”

  I think about Logan and his botched attempt at building a nursery in the third bedroom. Maybe I can convince him to give it another shot.

  We can work up to that.

  “I think we can do that, Ivy,” I tell her.

  “Tyler, I have a child to consider. I don’t have time or patience for ‘I think.’ If we’re going to be together again someday, you have to know for sure. One hundred percent,” she says. Her voice is firm though her body is completely spent and snuggled into mine.

  I don’t say anything. I just nod. It is going to be a hell of a lot of work, both physically and emotionally, but I’ve decided that I’m willing to do it. But no amount of assuring her of that right now will get her to believe me. No, that’s going to take action. And time.

  “Good night, Ivy,” I whisper softly into her ear.

  She murmurs, already seconds from sleep. I’m not far behind.

  When I wake up, it's nearly ten in the morning, and Ivy has been up for hours. I find her in the kitchen, sitting at the table, sipping coffee. Oliver is in a high chair, gurgling and cooing.

  “Want a cup?” she asks.

  I shake my head no. “I should go. I should check on Logan.”

  She nods.

  “I meant what I said, Ivy,” I say kissing her cheek as I head for the door. “I’m going to make it right. I’m going to make us a family again. You and me and Logan and Oliver.”

  She pauses. Maybe she’s picturing it too.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” she says.

  When I get home, Logan is gone, but he’s left a note which reads: Went for a drive to clear my head. Will be gone all day. Clear my morning tomorrow. I have my first therapy appointment at 10am.

  I smile. I’m glad. Logan’s going to do his part to get Ivy back. Even if it means dealing with his issues, which I know that he doesn’t want to do.

  I change into jeans and a tee shirt and head to a hardware store uptown. I like Logan’s idea of renovating the third bedroom into a nursery. It’ll be a great way to show Ivy that Logan and I can welcome the both of them into our lives and we can all be together happily.

  Logan's doing his part in all this, and I'm doing mine.

  Chapter 16

  Logan

  My first appointment with Dr. Tanisha Saunders is this morning. I sought her out specifically because she deals with traumatic family situations and with both children and adults who deal with abandonment issues.

  She's an older woman with dreadlocks, some grey, and some black and she wears round glasses. She's small and slender and has a big smile. I don't know how to describe her except to say that she has a very warm, comforting presence. She reminds me a lot of Mrs. Little.

  Her office is small but comfortable. I was picturing the stereotypical fainting couch where I lie down and bare my soul while she’d sit in a desk chair and ask me questions like, “And how does that make you feel?”

  But therapy isn’t like that. There is a desk in the corner of the room, but we both sit in plush armchairs, fa
cing each other on an angle.

  “Logan, are you nervous?” she asks me. I like the tone of her voice. She doesn’t sound like she’s judging me. She also doesn’t give me the feeling that I need to impress her. It makes me feel like I can be honest with her.

  “Yes, actually,” I confess, “Talking about this makes me uncomfortable. But it’s necessary. I have a lot riding on this.”

  “Do you?”

  I nod. “There’s a woman I’m… still in love with.”

  “What’s her name?” Dr. Saunders asks.

  “Ivy.”

  “And let me guess, Ivy broke it off with you because you're closed off and commitment-phobic, and you figured you'd be fine on your own, but found that you were miserable without her," she assesses.

  “That’s astute,” I tell her, “But only partly true.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was closed off and commitment-phobic with every woman we’d ever dated, until Ivy. And…”

  Dr. Saunders cuts me off suddenly. “Wait, who’s we?”

  I take a deep breath and try to gauge how open-minded this woman will be. I mean, she's a therapist, and I'm sure she's heard everything. And I know that she's bound by doctor/patient confidentially laws so she won't go gossiping about me. But trying to explain Tyler and I is challenging.

  “We are me and my best friend. Tyler," I tell her. Wow, this is a weird feeling. In my regular life, people are too intimidated by me to ask about my and Tyler's fascination with sharing women. Either that or they're classy enough not to ask. But Tyler is a big part of this story, so obviously Dr. Saunders has to know about him. "We were in a relationship with Ivy together. And before you ask, no, Tyler and I aren't gay, and we're not secretly in love with each other and using Ivy as a buffer."

  “I’m not here to judge, Logan,” she says, “Love is a gift and the more of it that you can find, the better.”

  I believe her. So, I continue.

  “Anyway, when we met Ivy, we knew that this was different. She was something special. Is. Is something special,” I tell her, “She’s wild and tenacious and comes into your life like a tornado of color and energy.”