Page 40 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

He must know what’s around the corner because a minute later, we’re pulling into a grocery store that looks like it’s been around for fifty years.

The bell above the door jingles as we step into the old place, the smell of fresh produce and baked bread enveloping us.

I trail behind Oliver as we weave through the aisles. We’re both in comfortable travel clothes, but Oliver still has that air about him — the one that says he’s somebody. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself or the cut of his jeans that are just a bit too good for this small-town scene.

“Oliver Wolfe?” A voice cuts through the hum of the refrigeration units. A burly man in a flannel shirt and worn-out jeans approaches us with a broad grin. “Is that really you?”

“Mr. Kowalski?” Oliver asks, with recognition sparking in his eyes after a moment’s hesitation.

“Ha! Look at you, all grown up and successful!” Mr. Kowalski beams, his hand outstretched. “You brought pride to this little town, you know.”

Oliver’s shock is almost palpable. He takes the man’s hand in a firm grip, shaking it while a flush creeps onto his cheeks. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

“Ah, don’t thank me. You did all the hard work.” Mr. Kowalski pats Oliver on the shoulder before turning back to his shopping. “Good to see you, son.”

We watch him walk away before Oliver turns to me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “That was my high school woodshop teacher. He once told me I’d never amount to anything if I didn’t learn to work with my hands.”

“Looks like he changed his tune.” I try to hide my grin as I pick up a bag of trail mix and toss it into our cart.

“Yeah,” Oliver mutters, still stunned. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

The private jet’s engines whir like a whisper of the future as I follow Oliver up the sleek silver stairs. The sun glints off the fuselage, casting a warm glow over us. Oliver pauses at the top, and our gazes lock for an eternity in a second.

“Chicago won’t know what hit it,” I say, aiming for lightness, but my voice betrays the weight on my chest.

Oliver half-smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that says there’s more on his mind.

“We’re flying back to our life there, but part of me is still here,” he says, his gaze turning to take in the small airport, the town beyond it hidden in miles of trees.

I step closer to him, aware of the space where the jet’s luxury cabin begins and the rest of the world ends. “You’re thinking about doing something for this place, aren’t you?” It’s not a question; it’s more of a realization aloud.

He nods, finally stepping onto the plane. “Yeah. It’s strange, Nora. I spent so long wanting to escape, to prove myself beyond these borders. And now…” He trails off, biting his lip like he’s measuring his next words.

“Tell me,” I urge gently, following him inside.

“Now, I want to give back.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it resonates through the empty cabin. “I need to see my parents more, too. They’re not getting any younger, and… and I’ve missed out on a lot.”

“Then we’ll make it happen,” I declare with more certainty than I feel. Because it’s one thing to support Oliver’s dreams, and it’s another to intertwine them with my own life.

His hand finds mine, fingers lacing naturally. “Thank you for coming with me. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” I say, squeezing his hand. “Seeing where you came from, meeting your family — it’s been…”

“Important,” he finishes for me. “It’s important. You’re important.”

“Oliver,” I whisper, my throat tight with emotions I can’t fully name. “You don’t understand how much you mean to me, too.”

He pulls me in then, his embrace a promise of partnership, of shared futures and mended pasts. I let myself melt into him, my head fitting perfectly under his chin. As the engines roar to life, signaling our departure, I realize that it doesn’t even matter where this jet takes us. My most important journey will always be with Oliver.

My heart races — no, it doesn’t just race; it soars, ready to navigate whatever skies lie ahead.

CHAPTER 21

OLIVER

The first sliver of morning light spills into the bedroom, and I blink the sleep from my eyes. Beside me, Nora stirs, her hair a wild cascade over the pillow. It’s an intimacy I’ve come to cherish in the short time since we’ve reconnected.

“Morning,” I murmur, my voice rough with sleep as I prop myself up on one elbow to look at her.

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