Page 27 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

“Never seemed to find the time.” I shrug, though now I’m beginning to wonder what I might have missed out on.

Nora has a collection of tales, each a colorful thread in the tapestry of her life. What do I have? Contracts, deals, money, a penthouse I’m hardly ever in, and a whole lot of steel and glass.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” she says, her voice gentle. “To find someone who gets you — workaholic tendencies and all.”

“Maybe,” I echo, though the idea feels as distant as the stars above us. Unless…

Unless she’s talking about someone who is sitting right next to me. Someone who has seen me evolve and change, someone who still cares for me even after I went dark on her.

The sun begins its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, signaling that our day together is drawing to a close. Reluctantly, we rise from the bench, our steps slow as we make our way out of the park. I drop Nora off at her apartment, the warmth of her hand lingering in mine as she exits the car.

“Thanks for today, Oliver. It was… really nice.” She smiles, her words wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

“Anytime,” I reply, meaning it more than I probably should. She turns and heads up the steps, my gaze staying on her until she disappears inside.

With a sigh, I pull away from the curb, my mind replaying every moment of our day together. The city blurs past my window, but all I can see is Nora’s smile, hear her laughter, and feel the echo of her touch. There’s a pile of work waiting for me at home, but it has lost its usual appeal. For the first time in years, I wish I were doing anything but heading back to an empty house and a laptop full of emails.

As I navigate through the traffic, a question surfaces, unbidden and insistent: What if my legacy isn’t just the buildings I leave behind but also the relationships I build along the way? With Nora, even a simple Saturday feels like a piece of something grander, a design I hadn’t dared to dream up until now.

I’ve spent years building walls, not just in my career but around my life, compartmentalizing everything. Work is in the largest section, while personal matters… Well, they hardly seem to have a place at all. Nora, with her quick wit and easy laugh, is like an unexpected window in a solid wall, letting in the light where I didn’t even realize it was dark.

Today was unlike any other, not because of what we did, but because of who I was with. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so freely or felt so at ease. It wasn’t about the architecture or the food or even Millennium Park; it was about Nora.

She’s been in the periphery of my life for years, a college memory that resurfaces every now and then when work allows. But today, she stepped right into the center of my frame, and suddenly, she’s all I see.

A red light stops me, and I take a minute to consider the shape of my life, the space where work ends and emptiness begins. Could Nora fill that void? More importantly, am I ready to let someone in?

There’s a buzz in the industry about balance these days, achieving synergy between the professional and the personal. It’s always seemed like a distant concept, elusive and not quite applicable to someone like me. But watching Nora navigate her life as a lawyer with apparent ease, I’m struck by the thought that maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late for me to find that balance too.

The light turns green, and my foot presses against the accelerator, propelling me forward. I could call her and schedule another meetup under the guise of discussing a new environmental branch of the company. Nobody would question it; it’s logical, practical. But the flutter in my chest at the thought of seeing her again is anything but practical.

“What’s happening to me?” I whisper to the empty car.

Am I actually considering this? Am I contemplating rearranging my carefully structured life for a chance at something more with Nora?

As I pull onto the expressway, the buildings become a blur, and my heart races with the speed of the car. For the first time, I consider not what I have to lose, but what I might gain. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, and as I merge onto the open road, there’s a sense of determination settling over me. Maybe it’s time to build something new, not out of brick or mortar, but out of moments and chances taken.

“Balance,” I say the word aloud, tasting its foreignness on my tongue.

A relationship with Nora wouldn’t be a distraction from my work; it could be the counterweight I’ve needed all along. There’s potential here, in the space between us, and for the first time, I’m ready to explore what that means.

CHAPTER 14

NORA

The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above provides a steady backdrop to the clack of my keyboard. Oliver’s office, usually bustling with activity and ringing phones, is now a quiet space where only the sound of our work fills the room. It’s getting late. The cleaning crew has already come and gone, their polite nods and the faint smell of lemon cleaner lingering in the hallways.

I try to focus on the contract in front of me, but I can’t help stealing glances at Oliver. He sits across his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reviews a blueprint so intensely it’s like he’s willing it to perfection. Since our Saturday outing, there’s a change in him that’s both subtle and disarming. His shoulders seem less tense, his usual crisp demeanor softened around the edges.

Every so often, he looks up from his work, and his eyes meet mine. There’s warmth there, an ember that wasn’t present before. I quickly look away, feeling the familiar heat rise to my cheeks.

I tell myself it’s just the byproduct of spending too much time together, a trick of the dimming light. Yet, I can’t deny the way my pulse quickens or how I’m suddenly conscious of the loose strand of hair that’s escaped my bun.

“Are you sure you’re okay staying this late?” Oliver’s voice breaks the silence, unexpectedly gentle.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant. “There’s a lot to get through.”

He nods, and for a moment we just sit there, acknowledging the shared burden of responsibility. I can’t stop thinking about how different he seems. Not the Oliver I remember from college, who was all ambition and drive, nor the Oliver I’ve been working with these past few weeks — distant and impenetrable. This Oliver is… human.

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