Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (20 page)

Callie threw herself on the couch. She was barely seated before she burst into tears. I sat down and grabbed three boxes of tissues. But they were all empty. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the handkerchief that Michael had given me the day that Callie and I had our falling out. She took it gratefully, holding it up to stem the flow of tears pouring from her eyes. I tried to sleek her hair back from her forehead, but it was all too tangled. I saw there was a lone hairbrush on the coffee table, buried beneath candy wrappers. I grabbed it and began combing through her hair gently. Soon, Callie stopped crying.

“Remember when mom used to do this?” I said to her quietly.

Callie nodded. “Yeah. Dad did it for you all the time, too.”

I pulled the hairbrush through the knots on her head, detangling them one by one. “Talk to me, Calls. Tell me what happened.”

Callie took a steadying breath and blew her nose into the hanky. “Patrick has a girlfriend. I served him divorce papers this morning.”

I didn’t respond; I just kept brushing.

“It turns out he lost his job months ago. Back in July. And he’d been lying to me, drinking and going to bars at all hours of the day. I could smell it on his breath but I didn’t want to believe it.” She started crying again. “Damn my need to keep everything perfect for appearances.”

“Blame mom for that. I do,” I said softly.

She laughed at that. “I just couldn’t believe that he would betray me like that, with the alcohol. I was always fine if he went out for drinks with his friends, but he was coming back absolutely smashed.” She hiccupped.

“What about the house? Spousal support?” I asked her. These were the legal details that I knew would keep her mind calm. She lived for stuff like that.

“He’s not contesting any of it. My name was the only one on the mortgage anyway because his credit history was so bad. And he’s not asking for spousal support, either. I think he’s living with his new girlfriend.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Leeching off of someone else’s dime now. Better than you.”

Callie laughed. “That’s a good way to put it.” Then she started crying again. “Everything’s a mess, Rach. I don’t even know where to begin.”

I reached down to pull her hair back from her face, bringing the perfect, now sleek and straight blonde strands back into a braid. “How did you find out about the affair?”

Callie wiped her eyes on her bathrobe sleeve. “That’s actually kind of a funny story. Zane called to tell me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Zane? Seriously?”

Callie nodded. “He’d been having Patrick followed since the night you got engaged. He didn’t trust him. He had his guy take photos of Patrick fucking another redhead in a hotel; groping her in public, going to baseball games together.” Callie shrugged. “You’re prettier than she is. It was obviously just any redheaded port in a storm.”

“He’s pathetic,” I offered. “Completely, utterly pathetic.”

Callie nodded. “I know that now. I think deep down I’ve always known that. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. It was too painful or something. And you know that mom thing.
Stick with it until it makes you drop
. Real healthy attitude.”

“Mom desperately needs therapy,” I said drily.

Callie motioned around the house. “I should probably be on that list as well. Look at me. Everything is messed up. Everything. My life is a mess. I’m a mess.”

I grabbed both of her hands and made her look me in the eye. “You are not a mess. Callie, I don’t see a single bottle of alcohol on the floor here. And I already know you’re not taking out the trash. This place smells terrible.”

Callie laughed self-deprecatingly. “I didn’t drink. Not once. I wanted to. Today, actually. But then all I could see was your face in my head and how disappointed you would be. I needed my sister.”

I pulled her back into my arms and let her cry some more, whispering into her hair. “I was always jealous of you, you know. Jealous of how much mom doted on you. You’re her favorite, even now. You know she didn’t even call me about being on the show? Or the engagement?”

Callie laughed. “Consider yourself lucky. I had to hear
all about
your TV appearance, and Patrick at the karaoke bar, and you and Zane.” She sighed and blew her nose again. “That phone call was three hours of her straight talking. I didn’t get a word in edgewise. The house was really clean that day, though. I scrubbed all the windows and did laundry. Just set the phone down and left the room.”

I laughed uproariously at that. “I would have paid to see that.”

Callie shrugged. “You know I was always jealous of you. That’s why I worked so hard to get into law school early. I knew that you were always right behind me, waiting to blow me out of the water with everything.”

I gaped at her. “I was always in
your
shadow. My tall, blonde, smart sister who all the boys liked. Who everyone invited to their parties while her weird, younger redhead sister tagged along with a book in her purse. You had everything I wanted.”

“Oh my word, I forgot about that!” She wiped tears of mirth out of her eyes. “I
hated
when you read books at parties.” She leaned back in the sofa. “Well, now
you
have everything. A fiancée, a successful company…”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, there are a few things I need to catch you up on, actually.” Callie listened intently as I summarized the past month that we’d been apart. The elopement, Zane’s health history, the breakup, my moving in with Liz. My almost making the deal with Scott, the morning sickness, the pregnancy, bed rest, Zane wanting to be with me again.

Callie was in shock. “My
word
. I didn’t think anyone could have had a busier month than I did. But apparently I was wrong about that.”

We both burst into hysterical, slap-happy laughter. I dissolved into hormonal tears within a minute. “I am so tired,” I cried.

This time it was Callie’s turn to hold me.

It was good to have my sister again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

RACHEL

I spent the rest of the day on Callie’s couch. She took a shower and dressed herself in nice sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. Her face was free of makeup and she looked reborn. “Nice to see you relaxing a little bit,” I said from my horizontal, doctor-mandated position on the sofa.

Callie smiled. “You know, my uptight, perfect appearance thing was because Patrick was always criticizing how I looked. I never told anyone that.” Pain crossed her face and then dissolved into a smile. “Fuck him,” she said in her full Georgia accent. “Just…fuck him.”

“I will never get over the shock of hearing you curse,” I said, clutching my side from laughing so hard.

Callie walked into the kitchen and came back with three black, heavy-duty trash bags. She started with the coffee table and worked her way around the room, collecting a week’s worth of food containers, tissues, soda cans, snack wrappers, trashy magazines, and mail. She chattered happily about how good she felt taking some time off of work. Within half an hour the place was shining and spotless again. She threw open the curtains and cracked all the windows, letting in the fresh, sharp November air and tucking a warm blanket around me.

She ordered a deep dish Hawaiian pizza and returned with water and sodas for both of us. “So you’re living with Liz Anders?” She raised her eyebrows. “That must be nice.”

“It is,” I said. “It’s a little loud with her five boys but they’re good kids. And the house is wonderful. Not as tastefully decorated as yours though.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “Stop buttering me up, Rach. I’m sure Liz has a master decorator.”

“I’m serious. Your taste is even better. I’ve told you this a million times, Callie. If you ever got sick of being a lawyer, you could totally be an interior designer.”

Callie laughed nervously, sipping from her can of Coke. “Mom would be thrilled with that career move!” she said sarcastically.

“Callie, you’re sitting here with no makeup, your hair undone, wearing sweatpants on a weekday. And you’re drinking a soda. You’ve turned over so many new leaves I’m surprised there haven’t been tornado warnings in Lincoln Park.”

Callie tilted her head, a determined look on her face. “I think you should move back in with me. There’s a bedroom downstairs so you don’t have to climb any stairs. I think I might take off the next month from work. I can take care of you. And I won’t have to be alone.” The last sentence hung heavily in the air.

I felt tears stinging my eyes. “I would love that, Calls.”

She dabbed at her own eyes and clapped her hands together. “It’s settled then. Nearly everything. Except for one little detail. What are you going to do about that smoking hot billionaire who is hopelessly in love with you?”

***

I tapped my fingers on the sofa table. Callie was hovering near the bar in the kitchen. I waved her away. “
Go!
Go upstairs or something. I can’t do this with you hovering.”

She pulled a face and walked grudgingly up the stairs. I heard her stop before she got all the way to the top.

“All the way upstairs!” I yelled.

She stomped childishly up the carpeted steps. It made me smile. I felt like we were little kids again in all the best possible ways. I took a deep breath and hit Zane’s contact info on my phone. I drummed my fingers faster and faster on the table, adjusting the pillow behind my back. The call connected and it rang exactly once.

“Rachel.” Zane said my name like it was an exhale.

Goosebumps flew across my skin in a waterfall of sensation. “Hey,” I said quietly. “How. How are you?”

A man’s voice yelled out behind him. “Ooooh, it’s
Rachel!
”

“Hang on a second, I’m with an asshole right now who is right over my shoulder.” I heard footsteps and a door clicking shut. “Sorry about that. Roger got excited. Um. How are you?”

I chuckled. “I asked you first.”

“Oh, right. I’m much better now that I’m hearing your voice. How is the baby? Are you resting?”

I blushed at the care he was showing me. “The baby is fine, as far as I can possibly know. Yeah, I’m resting. I’m at Callie’s, actually.” I thought I heard breathing at the top of the stairs. “
Callie
, who is eavesdropping on this conversation the way that Roger was, apparently.”

“It’s not like I can hear both sides of the conversation, Rachel!” Callie yelled from the landing. “And I can’t help it if I’m dusting the mirror up here.”

Zane laughed.

“I’m assuming you heard all that?” I asked him.

“I did indeed. I’m glad to hear excitement in her voice. She was pretty upset when I called her the other day about Patrick.”

“Mm,” I replied, not wanting to say anything about that with Callie listening. She was in a shinier mood than I’d seen her in since high school. Nothing should tarnish that.

“New subject, then?” Zane asked knowingly.

“That would be good,” I said evenly.

“Well, then. I’ve only thought about you five thousand times in the last ten minutes,” he said, dropping his voice lower.

“Zane Reid,” I replied, giggling. “Are you blushing through the phone?”

Zane laughed. “Hey, I can’t be the only fucking one who turns red as a tomato. It’s what you do to me, Rachel. You make me feel like a horny teenager again. I can’t help myself.”

It was my turn to glow red. “I was calling because I thought about your offer. And I wanted to say that I will permit you to take me out on a first date. A real one somewhere. You might have to wait a month until I can walk again, or else wheel me through the streets of Chicago. But I want a real date. Scheduled. Planned. Pick me up at the door. All of that.”

Zane didn’t hesitate. “How about Wednesday?”

I laughed. “I said it would have to wait until I’m not on bed rest.”

“I can’t wait, Rachel. I can’t wait that long to see you.”

I bit my lip and brushed my hair over my ear nervously. My stomach was filled with butterflies. “Then you’re going to have to carry me through Chicago.”

“I’ll get you four oiled, buff men with palm fronds if that’s what it takes,” he replied. “Wednesday night. I’ll pick you up at five o’clock, alright?”

“As long as I don’t have to walk anywhere,” I reminded him.

“Your feet won’t touch the ground. Literally and metaphorically, if I do my job right,” Zane said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ZANE

Thankfully I didn’t need to employ four oiled men with palm fronds. Two hours before our Wednesday date, I stood in my closet staring at my clothes. Michael knocked. “Need assistance, sir?”

“Yeah. I’m basically a high school girl right now. I have nothing to fucking wear.”

Michael smiled. “Allow me.” He reached forward and pulled down a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “I believe that Ms. Cobb loves you in crimson. She says it really brings out your eyes.” He smiled as he handed the garments to me.

“Well, that was easy,” I said with relief.

“One of the many, many reasons you keep me around, sir. I have also acquired the gear you need.”

“And it’s all comfy and set up? And you called the doctor to make sure that it’s safe for Rachel?” I’d never had so many details to keep track of before. I was a nervous wreck about this kid, and it wasn’t even here yet.

“I have done all the necessary work. The doctor believes it to be perfectly safe for Ms. Cobb. I also have it on good authority from Ms. Callie that Rachel is keeping down food much better in the evenings. And sir, if I may say so, you’re finally understanding that Ms. Cobb doesn’t like flashiness. I believe this date will go even better than your
other
first date with her.” He smiled pointedly.

I grinned. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Oh, I know.” He paused in the doorway. “I also called your accountant to ensure your life insurance was paid up in case you get hit by a texting teenager.”

I guffawed. “You always think of everything.”

An hour later, I was in a light jacket and a beanie cap, pedaling a bakfiet bicycle through the streets of Chicago toward Rachel’s place. Cars honked at me; I quickly learned to take side streets that were more calm. We only needed to get to the lakefront trail. It would be a breeze after that.