Page 69 of The Bossy Billionaire

I stand in complete shock. No words come to me as she abruptly turns, her blond hair flying behind her as she struts to the front door. She’s the complete opposite of Valerie. Both beautiful and rich women, yet nothing alike. I have no idea what is going on, but my body hurts. My leg throbs, but my chest hurts more as panic rises.

He gave her a ring?

They are getting married?

I am just like my mother.

I don’t know how, but I get through story time with Sophia perched on my lap. Then I sell more kids’ books this afternoon than I have all week, which keeps my hands busy. But my mind continues to race. I send Dwayne home early and then close the shop, no longer able to keep it together.

I feel sick as I walk to my office. I feel like my heart breaks all over again. As I sit in the quiet with my head in my hands, I jolt up as I realize I need to tell Harrison. His campaign has started, and this has the potential to kill it before it even gets off the ground. If I am slandered as being just like Mrs. Rothschild, then it isn't going to be good. For anyone. And the last thing I want to be is responsible for my brother's demise.

So I do the only thing that they have always told me to do in emergency situations.

I text them 9-1-1.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE - HUXLEY

“I know it is a shock, son, but hiding out here is not going to help you,” my father says from his armchair, looking at me with the same concern that has been etched in his brow for the past few days.

He is right, of course. But the shock of seeing Amy, and then her telling me she was pregnant with our child, threw me off center. My shock soon turned into anger when she continued to tell me that she aborted the baby and had a holiday love affair in Mexico while there, with a man who turned out to be married with kids of his own. He lived a double life with her and his family for months before she saw on social media that I had permanently moved on with Lucy and decided that she needed to return. To remind me that I was still engaged.

I needed to escape the city because I was suffocating. I wanted to get as far from her as possible. She reminded me of how I am lacking. How I was never emotionally available to her and how subpar I was as a boyfriend, always working and never there for her. It makes me think of Lucy. How I am still in New York while she is in Baltimore. I realized that maybe I have failed her too. Then when I saw Lucy’s face in my bedroom once Amy left, my world crumbled. There was so much pain. So much uncertainty. I am not sure how much she heard, but I knew that the pain she held in her body was all because of me, and I hate myself for that.

So I let her sleep, thinking we could talk more in the morning when both our heads were clear. I drowned myself in whiskey and fell into bed and passed out immediately, waking to her gone. The fear that consumed me as I frantically called her the next morning almost ended me. Until I called Eddie and heard that they collected her earlier. The yelling that ensued from the youngest Rothschild told me everything I needed to know. I caused the woman I love pain. The woman who carries so much already. The woman who I selfishly want more than anything. I hurt her. It was because of me that she left in the middle of the night. It was because of me that she didn’t answer my calls that morning.

The voice messages that Tennyson has left on my phone these past few days have been less than ideal, and I wonder if I need to increase my own security. Ben has called and told me exactly what he thinks, but Harrison has been silent. I know whatever he is thinking is not good.

Needing to get away from New York and out of my cold, empty apartment, I flew to Whispers and spent the first day here a mess. Mostly drinking too much whiskey and hardly sleeping, wondering what I did wrong for my fiancée to leave so abruptly, to not tell me about the most important thing in our lives such as a pregnancy, and then falling down the rabbit whole of self-pity, thinking about how I could have been so wrong about someone I was prepared to marry. How can I be with someone as wonderful as Lucy when Amy didn’t find me worthy?

“I can’t believe I could’ve been a dad,” I say to my father, rubbing my brow, my mind and body slowly starting to come down from the anger and shock. I love kids. Always wanted them. After Amy left me, I didn’t think that was ever going to be a possibility because if I can’t keep a fiancée happy, then how the hell can I look after a child. But then Lucy came into my life, and my thoughts changed. Now all I imagine is her, in a white dress, becoming my wife, barefoot and pregnant, waddling around Bloomers. It is her I want a child with. No one else but her.

“Have you spoken to Lucy yet?” my mother asks tentatively, and I lower my head in shame. Mom loves Lucy. Fuck, I love Lucy. But I feel so pathetic right now that I can’t bring myself to call her and talk. Why the hell would Lucy want me? I feel the dream of making her mine permanently slipping through my fingers. My throat tightens, thinking that the one woman I want more than anything I am not good enough for.

“No. Not yet,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes.

“You need to. You need to talk with her. She will understand. She loves you,” my mom says, and I look at her quickly.

“Loves me?” My brow crumples before I huff out sadly, “I highly doubt it.”

“Oh, you are so blind, my boy. That woman has stars in her eyes for you,” my dad huffs right back, and I look at the two of them like they are completely mad.

“I don’t know that—” I start to say as my mother cuts me off.

“Well, take it from me, that girl loves you, and if you are not careful, she won’t be there for you when you get back.” My mother is right. Lucy is one of the strongest, most resilient people I know. I need to get my head right. I need to be better for her. I just need her.

"What’s that?” my father says, standing and walking to the window. Mom and I get up and stand next to him, looking out.

“Is that a chopper?” my mom asks, squinting.

“Shit,” I say, feeling dread crawl up my throat, almost constricting me.

“Who is it, son?” my dad asks as I slowly walk backward to make my way outside and down to the helipad.

“That, Dad, is the next president of the United States of America,” I say, turning and walking down to meet him.

I make it to the helipad as Harrison’s big black chopper lands. It’s loud, the wind from the blades so violent it moves the trees. I see him step out, ducking as he runs toward me, and I take in a deep breath, waiting for the yelling to begin. But there is no yelling. Without saying a word, his fist flies out and hits me right in the chin, and I stumble back.

“You fucking asshole,” he seethes and takes a step forward like he is going to hit me again. I stand there, waiting. Willing to take it. He pauses mid-tirade and looks at me. His eyes run up and down as his jaw clenches.

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