Page 47 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

She gets up and leaves before I can find the words to explain that I’m not running away from this, that I just need to align this new reality with the visions I’ve had for us. But she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving me alone with a racing heart and a future suddenly filled with more questions than answers.

I sink back into my chair, leather creaking under my weight, and stare out the window. Until today, success was as simple as acquiring the next big property, expanding the empire, proving I could take the business to heights others’ have never even imagined.

But kids? They’re not just another skyscraper on the horizon. They’re a seismic shift — a whole new city to navigate without a map.

I drum my fingers on the desk, each tap echoing the rapid beat of my heart. It’s not that I don’t want kids. Someday. Maybe when the lines around my eyes are a testament to years of triumphs rather than just stress and lack of sleep. But right now?

I let out a heavy sigh, my gaze catching the mirror on the wall. The reflection staring back isn’t the face of a man ready to be a father. It’s someone who still feels too much like a kid playing at being an adult.

I think about Nora, with her sharp intellect and the way she debates courtroom battles with the same passion I reserve for closing deals. She’s always known what she wanted — and apparently, what she wants is this. Us. A family.

I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. Did I make a mistake getting involved with Nora? When she reentered my life, it felt like serendipity, a second chance at something that had once been just out of reach. But perhaps it was merely a detour from the path I’d laid out for myself.

I’ve spent my life planning every move, calculating risks, and ensuring each step I took was measured and sure.

A baby… Nora… they’re variables I never accounted for. And now, my carefully curated world is threatening to spiral into chaos.

“Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” I whisper to the empty room.

The silence doesn’t argue; it just swallows my words, indifferent to the turmoil inside me.

I stand and pace the confines of my office, hands raking through my hair. This — this vulnerability, this uncharted emotional territory — it leaves me defenseless.

And weak. How am I supposed to lead a company and shape the very skylines of Chicago and New York if the thought of being someone’s dad sends me spiraling?

I stop pacing and lean against the cool glass. Maybe I’m not the visionary I thought I was. Maybe I’m just a guy who got lucky with numbers and now is realizing he’s not cut out for this life.

I do know one thing, though. Kids aren’t right for me. Not now. And the gnawing doubt that’s been quietly eating away at me seems to grow teeth — maybe they’ll never be.

“Damn it.” I sigh, my reflection frowning back at me, trapped behind the glass. “Why now?”

CHAPTER 24

NORA

The lingering scent of coffee and copier toner hangs in the air, a testament to the day’s labors as I stand frozen in the hallway. My coworkers are finishing out the day all around me while I’m just standing here, rooted before the corridor leading to Oliver’s office, the thought of our earlier conversation anchoring me to the spot.

“Go to him,” murmurs a voice inside my head, but it’s a whisper drowned out by the thunderous echo of his words: “I need some time to think.”

The afternoon has been a desert of silence, mirroring the arid space growing between us.

I move one foot forward, then halt. My mind races through possible scenarios, each more desperate than the last. Should I apologize?

The thought is laughable. Apologize for what, exactly? It took both of us to get into this situation.

Then what should I do? Demand a response? Coax him into understanding? But the idea of pleading for his attention scrapes at my dignity like nails on a chalkboard.

It’s so strange. I hoped he would be happy about the pregnancy news, but instead he turned into a man I’d never met — cold, distant. Reserved.

It breaks my heart to even remember the moment, the look in his eyes. A pregnancy should be a cause for celebration, and yet today it’s a wedge between me and the man I love.

Love. What a funny word.

Does Oliver even feel an ounce of love for me, or have these weeks together been nothing but fun to him? Have I grossly misunderstood the situation?

With a deep breath that does little to steady my nerves, I turn away from the path to his office. My purse feels heavy as I sling it over my shoulder, its contents now seemingly made of lead. I walk through the deserted foyer, my stomach sinking with each step.

The city greets me with its usual indifference, the sun dipping low as if avoiding eye contact. It’s a short drive to my apartment, but today it feels like an odyssey. With every turn of the wheels, I replay the moment of revelation — Oliver’s eyes wide with shock rather than joy, the color draining from his face as if I’d announced a death rather than a life.

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