Page 64 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire
There was supposed to be a future where I left Hawaii with nothing but a few memories—and maybe a tan if I was lucky.
Not this.
The worst part? A tiny, traitorous part of me still aches for him. Still misses the way he held me like I was something precious. Still hopes, in some delusional corner of my heart, that maybe he misses me, too. But missing someone doesn’t undo the damage.
And it sure as hell doesn’t change the fact that I’m standing here, alone, facing something way bigger than anything I’m ready for.
I stare down at the test again, hoping—idiotically—that somehow the result changed in the last ten seconds.
It didn’t.
Still pregnant.
I squeeze my eyes shut and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. My hands shake so badly I have to set the test down on the sink just to breathe.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Not alone, sitting half-dressed in a bathroom that still smells faintly of lavender soap and cheap vanilla candles.
I force myself to sit up straighter, dragging in a long, shaky breath.
“It’s fine,” I say out loud, forcing a smile that feels about as sturdy as wet tissue paper. “This is fine.”
I mean… I’m twenty-eight. Practically thirty. This was bound to happen eventually, right?
Plenty of people have babies before thirty. Some by choice. Some by accident.
Maybe this is a blessing. Maybe I’ll be one of those cool, organized moms with color-coded calendars and Pinterest-worthy lunchboxes.
My throat tightens.
I don’t believe a damn word coming out of my mouth. How can I convince myself to believe any of it when all I want to do is cry?
I shove the test into a drawer and grab my phone, hands shaking as I call the one person who’s always been my anchor.
“Ness?” My voice cracks the second she picks up.
“What’s wrong?” she demands—no hello, just immediate best-friend mode.
“I need you to come over.” Without even asking why, she says, “I’m on my way.”
Next, I call my mom, then Jeremy and his girlfriend Marissa. Last, I call my dad, knowing he won’t come but would complain if he found out I shared important news with mom without even inviting him.
He answers on the third ring, distracted as usual.
“Hey, kiddo. Everything okay?”
“I just… need you to come over. I have news.”
He sighs. “I’m slammed with work, pumpkin. Can it wait until next week?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yeah. It can wait.”
“Love you, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Love you too,” I murmur, ending the call before he can hear the tears thickening in my throat.
By the time everyone else piles into my tiny living room, I’ve managed to paste on a version of my face that almost looks calm.
Almost.
