Page 4 of The Billionaire's Bad News Baby

“What happened to your eyes?” was the most common question, and she would respond, “I was just born this way.” Then people, for whatever reason that Kayla had never been able to figure out, got geographical.

“Where are you from?”

“Newark.”

“No, where are you from? What’s your heritage?”

“I’m half Italian.”

Then people always told her that she didn’t look half Italian. She’d ask what someone who was half Italian should look like, and that usually baffled or embarrassed them enough that the conversation was dropped and she was finally free. Not that it really mattered. Her dad had never been big on the whole sticking around to raise a child business. Her mom, on the other hand, had never left her side.

Speaking of which… There was a brief knock on the front door before Liz Harvey entered carrying a canvas bag full of plastic containers.

“Doing my weekly returns. I put them through the dishwasher at home so they’re all clean.”

“Thanks,” Kayla said. She’d always spent time in the kitchen with her mom, growing up cooking with her, the ultimate irony being that Liz wasn’t very gifted in the culinary department. The upside of having meals burned and falling apart was that it had given Kayla the freedom to make mistakes, to get creative and to have free rein in the kitchen. Over the years, as Kayla grew older and her mom switched to night shifts at the local hospital, Kayla took over the role of chief cook. Even now, she would prepare meals for Liz and drop them at her house whether Liz liked it or not, because she was still completely incapable of cooking pasta all the way through. Kayla had also banned her from ever cooking chicken without supervision again. Like, ever again.

Kayla stayed staring at her computer screen with unfocused eyes, and Liz perked up as she noticed the decidedly defeated set to her daughter’s shoulders.

“What’s up with you? Someone bonk you on the head with a doorstop or something?”

The amount of things Kayla had thrown at her was truly astonishing to the point where it was now a running joke, because laughing at it was really the only solution. Well, the other solution was to quit and get a new job, but that wasn’t going so well, now was it?

Liz stood with her hand on her hip, clearly waiting for an answer. A plump woman with blond hair like her daughter’s but very normal-colored brown eyes, hidden partially behind bright red glasses frames, she liked anything red, sequins, and Kayla’s cooking. They were her main interests in life, so Kayla wasn’t going to be able to get away with brushing her off by saying “It’s fine.” They knew each other too well.

“I’ve been looking through these job ads,” Kayla said, shutting the laptop for now.

“No luck?”

“None. Everything sounds worse than the next, and what's the point of switching to something else I’ll hate but where I get paid less?”

“There’s nothing wrong with going back to working in a shop, Kayla. I mean, at least you wouldn’t have people screaming at you all the time,” Liz said primly, putting the containers away. “And God forbid I want you to have a job where people don’t threaten you on a daily basis.”

Kayla turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Ma, have you ever worked retail?”

“No…”

“Thanks for making my point. Besides, you’re a nurse. You get more abuse hurled at you than I do.”

“The patients are sick and injured. I’d be upset as well.”

Kayla rolled her eyes before rubbing them like a little kid who had stayed up past their bedtime.

“You want dinner?” she asked her mom with a yawn. Now it was Liz’s turn to give her an appraising glare.

“I can cook for myself, you know,” she said, shutting the cabinet door with a snap.

“Can you, though?”

“Kayla, I’m the mother here, in case you forgot.”

“But I like cooking,” Kayla protested, which was true. It was her favorite part of the day. Some people painted, some people took dance classes, Kayla had always cooked. You could give her five different ingredients at random and she loved nothing more than making something from scratch.

“You look dead on your feet,” Liz said, in a tone that meant there was no way that Kayla was going to win the argument. “You can order Thai food just this once. It won’t kill you.”

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