Page 22 of The Baby Contract With My Hot Billionaire Boss

Three minutes.

My heart is pounding as I sit on the bathroom floor, waiting. Waiting.

And then the beeping of my phone pulls me out of my own head and I grope around on the sink for the test.

But even still it takes me a long time before I can bring myself to look at it.

Walking into the club for my shift, I’m not sure how exactly I feel.

I finished getting ready for work on autopilot as well, and now that I’m here I’m still feeling somewhat numb.

Was this the result I wanted? I’m not really sure.

It’s only been a few weeks, after all.

“Emma? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, barely even registering who’s talking to me or what they’re really saying. All I know is that I’m going to need to talk to Chris at some point. He needs to be updated about everything, right? No matter what happens?

My evening seems like it rushes by, mostly because I have no idea what’s happening. All I know is that my head is spinning and I’m certain that all of this was a mistake. Signing a contract saying I would get pregnant? What was I thinking?

“Emma?” This time when I look up, it’s Chris. Chris, who is giving me a concerned look and I feel my heart melting slightly.

No. Don’t be stupid. He’s not really concerned about you. And even if he was, it’s just because he wants you to have his baby. It has nothing to do with you, I tell myself.

“It’s nothing; it’s, well, I have to … I have something to tell you, actually.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can we go to your office?” His eyes narrow slightly and he gives a sharp nod, leading me to the office and closing the door behind himself.

“What is it?”

“I … I’m pregnant.”

As soon as the words leave my lips they seem even more real and I don’t know what to do . But then, Chris doesn’t seem to know what to do either.

The look on his face is calm. Too calm. Like it would be if I’d totally blindsided him with this news. Which I suppose I have. But he was expecting it. He wanted me to get pregnant.

I stare at him a little more closely. Or did he?

He said he did. But is that really what he wanted? Did he really want me to get pregnant? Did he really think about just what that was going to mean?

“Good. That’s good,” he tells me, but there’s something about his voice, something about the distracted look on his face that makes me wonder, makes my heart clench in my chest as I think about just what this is going to mean for me.

What if he changes his mind? What if he decides that he doesn’t want this baby?

He’s not saying anything else so I turn toward the door, willing him to stop me. Willing him to just give some indication that this is a good thing, like he said, but there’s nothing. He lets me leave.

I make my way back to work, trying to distract myself from thinking about just what my future could hold if he decides to change his mind. Which is what I’m still thinking about when I arrive back at the house that evening, barely even noticing that he’s waiting for me in the living room when I get there.

I’m unaware until he calls me into the room and I know I’m going to have to face up to whatever his decision is.

“Look, I can just go now and we don’t have to worry about anything else, all right?” I say quickly as I get within easy earshot.

“Go?” He looks at me with confusion etched on his face, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah. Go. Find somewhere else to stay. Just … get out of your hair.”

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