Page 48 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

“Pull yourself together,” I mutter under my breath, scolding myself for the tears that threaten to spill.

By the time I reach my building, the rolled-down window and biting wind have done their job; my cheeks are dry and my resolve hardened.

Inside, my apartment offers me cold comfort. The walls seem to lean in, curious about the outcome they missed. Lynn will be here for dinner any minute, and I’m not sure how to shape the words that will paint the picture of my crumbling fairytale.

“Shock,” I whisper to the empty room. “How could he be shocked?”

We are adults, aren’t we? We knew the risks and embraced the passion that comes with new love. But apparently, we hadn’t braced for consequences.

I sink onto the couch, the cushions accepting my weight without judgment. The silence here is different; it’s waiting, expectant. As am I, with a life within that is already rewriting my future. Oliver’s still at work, probably ensconced in his office as he grapples with a reality that bends the framework of his meticulously planned existence.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask the silence, knowing it won’t answer, that the next move is mine to make.

And as I wait for Lynn, for the comfort of familiarity amidst the chaos, I know one thing for certain. I’m keeping this baby, with or without Oliver Wolfe.

There’s a knock on my door, and I hurry to answer it. Lynn sweeps into my apartment like a gust of wind. She’s bearing takeout — pad Thai, our favorite comfort food — and a grin that falters when she sees me.

“Hey,” I start, but my voice is teetering on the edge of breaking, so I clear my throat and try again. “Hey.”

“Whoa.” She sets down the bags of food on the coffee table and eyes me with a mix of concern and curiosity. “What happened? You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

I sink back into the couch, the cushions no more comforting now than they were when I was alone. My cousin sits beside me, her proximity both soothing and a reminder that I need to unpack the chaos swirling inside me.

“Is it Ollie?” she asks. “Did something happen between you two?”

I suck in a long, difficult breath. “Yeah. Kind of.”

My fingers trace the pattern on the fabric of the couch, unwilling to meet her gaze just yet.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, the words hanging between us before gravity pulls them down, heavy with implication.

Lynn’s silence is deafening. Then, she grabs my hands, squeezing tight. “Oh, my God, Nora! That’s… are you okay? What did Oliver say?”

“Shocked,” I mutter, and I can feel Lynn’s grip tighten, protective fury warming her touch. “He couldn’t even talk to me. Just said he needed time to think and shut himself away.”

“Time to think?” She practically spits out the words. “It takes two to tango, Nora. He has no right to act like this is some kind of inconvenience.”

Her anger crackles, a fire ready to consume. But as much as I want to feed it, to let it burn away my hurt, I can’t. Because despite everything, part of me still clings to the hope that Oliver will come around, that he’ll be the partner I thought he could be.

“Maybe he just needs a moment,” I say, but it feels like I’m trying to convince myself more than Lynn.

“A moment?” She scoffs, shaking her head. “No, he needs a reality check. You’re amazing, Nora. You’ll be an incredible mother — with or without him.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over.

Lynn wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. Even though she’s shorter than me by a good four inches, her embrace is big and warm, and for the first time since the morning, I feel somewhat safe.

We sit there in silence for a few minutes. The apartment is quiet, save for the muffled sound of the city outside. From somewhere in the distance, I can hear the familiar hum of traffic, punctuated by a car horn or two. Inside my own walls though, it’s eerily silent, as if everything is on pause.

“I’ll be here for you, Nora,” she finally says, breaking the stillness. “No matter what happens.”

“I’m scared, Lynn,” I confess quietly, feeling my voice wobble from the uncertainty of what the future holds.

She squeezes my hand in reassurance, her thumb brushing soothing circles over my knuckles. “Of course you’re scared. This is huge. But remember that huge doesn’t mean impossible.”

Her words are a balm, the exact mix of honesty and comfort I need right now. I draw in a shaky breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. For the first time since the storm hit, I feel the clouds parting, even if just a tiny bit.

With determined motions, she unpacks our food, pad Thai wafting its earthy aroma around us and making my stomach growl with hunger I hadn’t realized I’d felt. She hands me a container and a pair of chopsticks, flashing me a small, encouraging smile.

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