Page 63 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“Lana, I’m sorry. Please, can we talk?”

I tried the engine again. Not even a sputter. Sam tapped on the window.

“Lana, I quit.”

I laughed. “You quit weeks ago, when you stopped calling.”

He pressed his hands to my window like a kid at the zoo. “No, no, I quit. I quit my job.”

My heart thumped so hard I felt it in my throat. Was this good news? Bad news? Why would he?—

“Can’t we please talk? Just for a minute?”

I realized my hand was on my door already. For a moment, I stared at it: did I want to do this? Did I want to give Sam one more chance to hurt me? He’d lied to me. Ghosted me. Stood me up on our date. But hadn’t he once been good to me? Hadn’t he saved me? He’d brought my shop back from the brink of closing. Given me confidence when I tried for that grant. Maybe for these things, I could hear him out.

“Lana, I’m begging you. One minute, please.”

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. My door shut behind me with a hollow clunk.

“One minute. I’m timing you.”

Sam reached for my hands, but he didn’t take them. He stepped back instead. Raked his hands through his hair.

“I walked out,” he said. “I don’t know where to start.”

I braced myself. “The beginning is good.”

Sam laughed. “Okay. Okay, the beginning.” He smoothed down his hair again, but it stood up in spikes. “I’ve worked for this my whole life. This, you know, this.” He waved his hand at the tower whose shadow stretched over us. “But the truth of it is, I never wanted to work here. I never wanted to be this, or be like Dad. I just wanted him to say to me, ‘hey, son, good job.’ I’d have run off a cliff chasing his love.”

Sam turned away from me, then turned back. He straightened his tie, then he tore it off. “I grew up not seeing him — I wouldn’t see him all week. He had an apartment where he’d stay for the workweek, then he’d come out on weekends to see me and Mom. I’d wait my whole week for that, build it up in my head, but honestly, honestly, he wasn’t worth it. He’d blow in on Saturday around dinnertime, and I might get an hour with him before he’d have to call work. Sunday, he’d be in his office all day, and maybe that evening, we’d watch some TV.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That sounds lonely.”

Sam looked at me, then at his tie. “I’m still doing it,” he said.

“Still doing what?”

“Acting like Dad.” He jammed his tie in his pocket and reached for my hands. This time he took them and squeezed them tight. “You came here today with this life-changing news — you came with the best news, and I barely heard it. And now I’m out here, all ‘woe is me,’ making it all about me, but it’s not. It can’t be.” His features relaxed, and he tried for a smile. I could see how tired he was, how hard he’d been pushing. Still, his grip was firm, his hands warm in mine. “How are you feeling? Do you need to sit down?”

I laughed without meaning to, all light and giddy. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“You can if you want. I’ve played the clown enough.”

“I’m feeling fine. Great, actually.” I smiled a real smile, my first of the day. “Mom was the same when she was pregnant with me. No morning sickness, no fainting, no shakes. She didn’t even realize till she started to show.”

“You are glowing,” said Sam. “You look… you look gorgeous.” He lowered his head and lifted our hands. Stared at the knot they made, all threaded together. “I was happy in Haverford. Happy with you. If I’d had an ounce of sense in my head, I never would have left. Dad built this life where he had to choose, work or family. He couldn’t have both. And maybe that’s fine for him. Maybe he’s happy. But he doesn’t smile much. He doesn’t have much to smile for. He’s going into retirement with… What has he got? His huge empty house. His country club friends. I don’t want to be his age and that’s all that’s left.”

I hardly dared breathe. “What do you want?”

Sam’s grip tightened. I felt a shudder run through him. His blue eyes met mine, burning with feeling. “I want kids and grandkids. I want a real life. I want to build Mrs. Schneiderman a new gate for her fence, one Wiener can’t jump over and break into your shop. I want to go fishing with Chester and Rex and bring back a bass for you, and for us to fry it together. Little everyday things — I want all of that.”

I held my breath. I wanted that too. But if Sam changed his mind, if I wasn’t enough, if the small life we’d build started to feel like a prison…

“I’ve broken your trust,” he said. “And I’m asking a lot.”

“You haven’t asked me for anything.”

“But I’m about to.” Sam took a deep breath. “I got three wishes in Haverford, and I wasted them all. If I could have just one more wish?—”

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