Page 44 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“Oh, God, I hadn’t thought of that. Kids forming alliances!”

“Outvoting us every time, three to two.”

The kids ran back past us to line up for the teacups, and Brad bought us both corndogs, and a couple of glow sticks. We tried a few games and flamed out on the ring toss, but Brad won me a backpack at the balloon darts. Next, we went in on the water gun race, but Brad kept squirting me instead of the targets. I squirted him back, and we both got in trouble, and hurried off laughing to try out the rides. We did a spin on the teacups, then on the Ferris wheel, then I got us some funnel cakes and we walked down the beach. The stars were all out by then, the moon high in the sky, and we both took our shoes off to splash in the ocean.

“Let’s sit,” said Brad, when we’d walked a while, when the fair lay behind us in a warm smear of light. We found a flat rock looking out on the ocean, and both perched on top of it, his shoulder to mine. It was easy to talk to him there in the dark, without worrying what he’d think of me, or what would come next. We talked about everything, our parents, our friends. Our little-kid dreams that wore off with age. I’d once had singing dreams. Brad dreamed of NASA. He tried to needle me, to get me to sing for him, and I told him I would if he’d take me to space.

“Our whole planet’s technically already in space.”

“Then you’ve technically heard me singing through the shower door.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Neither does your thing.”

Brad had turned to face me, and he was so close, the light from the fair glinting in his blue eyes.

“I’ve had a beautiful night,” he said.

My heart leaped. “Me, too.”

Then he kissed me again, just our second kiss ever, and I melted into the graze of his lips. The fair was too far, but I swore I heard fireworks, and sensed their bright trails streaking the sky. Brad’s hand came up to cradle my head, and I felt held by him, wanted and claimed by him. Like with that one simple gesture, he’d embraced all that I was, and pulled it to him. Laid claim to our future.

CHAPTER 18

SAM

It was time to tell Lana the whole ugly truth. Past time to tell her, but no sense in regrets. I’d done what I’d done, and now I had to own it, and hope Lana could still see my feelings were real.

I’d rehearsed the whole thing, planned it out in my head — how I’d explain Dad to her, and the deal he’d pushed on me. How I’d had no idea I’d love my life here. I couldn’t have known the people I’d meet, or how they’d touch my heart. How she’d steal it entirely. If I’d had any inkling, I’d never have lied. I’d have told Dad to shove it and come here as Sam.

“My name’s Sam,” I said. “Sam Elkins, as in?—”

“What?” Lana leaned out the window and I nearly went flying, which would’ve been bad, given where I was sitting. I’d come out to the back steps to think through my speech, and I was perched at the top of them, at the edge of the landing. Now I gripped the rail to stop my heart pounding.

“I said, uh, I’m?—”

“Hold on. I’m coming out.” Lana vanished from the window and I heard her footsteps, and a few seconds later, she plunked down beside me. She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Who were you talking to? Or were you singing?”

She hadn’t heard, then. Or, not enough to make sense of it. A wave of relief hit, but I still had to tell her. I willed myself to start talking, just get the words out, but Lana was already bouncing to her feet.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I said we’d walk Wiener.”

I groaned. “Wiener? Why?”

“It’s Mrs. Schneiderman’s knitting day. Mr. Schneiderman can’t do it because he’s got the store.”

Lana ran back in to grab her beach shoes. The resolve I’d summoned was ebbing away. It was a beautiful Haverford day, the sky blue and cloudless, the ocean calm. I’d spend this one last perfect day with Lana, showing her who I was and who I would still be… then tomorrow, I’d tell her. I’d come clean first thing.

“All ready,” chirped Lana, and we headed downstairs. And we did have a perfect day down by the beach, playing with Wiener, tossing his ball. Lounging in the club’s beach chairs when we’d tired him out. We ran into Chester and Rex with their poles, headed out to the pier for some afternoon fishing.

“We had our grandkids by yesterday, and Dora’s cousins from Lowell,” said Rex. “Everyone kept asking us, who did your deck?”

I smiled. “In a good way, I hope?”

“In the best way. Dora was glowing. Don’t be surprised if she brings you a pie.”

“I’d love a pie.”

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