Page 35 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“It was all true,” said Lana. Her voice cracked and shook. “You said to show how I felt, and that’s it. How I feel.”

“Come here,” I said, and got to my feet. I pulled her into a tight hug, her cheek pressed to mine. She trembled against me. I stroked her back. It hit me, I really would give her the grant. If it were up to me, it’d be her all the way, not because she was beautiful or gentle or sweet. Not because she was considerate, or because she was funny. Because she deserved it for her passion, her drive. She was strong and determined. She had good ideas. She’d make this place work, if she just got the chance.

“You’ve got this,” I said, and then “I’ve got you.”

I had her, and I didn’t want to let go.

CHAPTER 14

LANA

Iwent into my interview nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I came out absolutely floating on air. Brad had come with me to Boston and was now waiting for me at a nearby café, and when he saw me coming he broke into a grin.

“I see it went well!”

“I think so. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before, so I can’t say for sure.” I sat down across from him, shivering from my adrenaline comedown. “If they’re nodding a lot, that’s good, right? And not just nodding, but adding things on? Like, I said I might put a café in the back, and one of them said her favorite bookshop has that. And this guy who hadn’t said much chimed in as well. Said it sounded cozy. Coffee and a book.” I was rattling on like a toddler, on a tide of excitement. Brad slid a tall cup across to me.

“Mint tea,” he said. “And, yeah, that’s a great sign. Sounds like you really had them engaged.”

I took a long sip of my tea and tried to calm down. But my heart was still racing from the high of success. “Shona — the director — she said she loved my ideas. She said I might hear back as soon as today. Oh, God, if I get this…” I clasped my hands together. “I don’t think I can take it, waiting to hear.”

“Then, let’s do something to distract you.” Brad took my hand. “Let’s go somewhere and celebrate. Have you seen the?—”

My phone chirped, then rang. I gasped. Inhaled tea. Spluttering furiously, I grabbed for my phone.

“Wait, they’ll call back! Are you okay?” Brad was hovering over me, offering napkins. I waved him off with one hand, covered my mouth with the other. Wished for a third hand to pick up my phone.

“I’ve got to— Ugh! Can you see who that is?”

Brad checked my phone. “Your contractor, I think.”

I calmed down a smidge: so, not the grant yet. Which, of course it wasn’t. I’d been out five minutes. I cleared my throat, caught my breath, and picked up the phone. And sat and listened as my happy dream crumbled.

“We need access to the upstairs suite,” Gareth was saying. “That’s where the leak is, and it’s pretty bad.”

I couldn’t breathe. “How bad? Is it— Are my things?—”

“We can’t estimate the damage till we can inspect it. Do you have a hide-a-key? Or can we drill out the lock?”

“Under the flowerpot,” I said, feeling numb. “Not the one with the plant in it, but— oh, you got it.”

Gareth hung up, and I sat staring, slack-jawed. Brad was saying something, but I couldn’t tell what. My pulse was thundering hard in my ears.

“I have to get back,” I said, when I could breathe. “We stored all those books up there. Our photos. Mom’s things.”

“They could be fine,” said Brad. “I had a leak once, at my place in college. The rooms underneath mine got totally drenched, but my place was fine. It could be like that.”

“Or it could not be. I have to get back.” Not that I could do much. I wasn’t a plumber. Nightmare images circled on loop in my head, boxes of books soaked and burst open. Spills of wet photos floating away. The floor caving in, because why not? Why not?

“It’s okay,” said Brad. He was rubbing my back. “Let’s get you home, and we’ll go from there.”

It was two hours back from Boston, and it felt like twenty. I stayed glued to my phone, checking for updates. Checking my signal when no updates came. Then, when one did come, it wasn’t enough. Got the leak stopped. What did that mean? How big a leak? How had they stopped it? Was it properly fixed, or just plugged for now? Brad reached over and squeezed my arm.

“Almost there.”

I couldn’t respond past the lump in my throat. All I could do was cling to my phone. The ferry took forever, and by the time we pulled up my street I was a tangle of nerves. I’d flung my door open before Brad even stopped, and jumped out of his truck, and I bounded upstairs. The door was standing open, a damp smell drifting out. I dove headlong for the storeroom that had once been our laundry room, and screamed so loud I hurt my own ears.

“We stopped it,” said Gareth, somewhere behind me.

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