Page 51 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

“Sorry to hear that. You okay? You sound off,” he probes.

“Everything’s fine,” I lie, glancing at my watch, feeling the walls close in. “Actually, Dad, I’m swamped here. Can we catch up later?”

“Of course. Take care of yourself, kid.”

“Will do.” I hang up before he can ask any more questions that I have to lie about. I sink back into my chair, rubbing my temples. The truth is a boulder in my throat, heavy and immovable. A baby… Nora and I are having a baby.

The door swings open without so much as a knock, and Ben strides in, all confidence and perfectly pressed suit. “Ollie, we’ve gotta roll out. The client’s waiting at the restaurant. You got the files ready to go?”

“Right, yes,” I mutter, grabbing the folder off my desk, the one thing tethering me to reality right now.

“Everything cool?” He eyes me, a flicker of concern beneath his professional facade.

“Fine, just fine,” I say, plastering on a smile as we head out the door.

At the restaurant, conversation swirls around me. I nod where appropriate and laugh on cue, but my mind is miles away, tangled up with Nora. Does she regret telling me? Is she lying alone somewhere, scared and uncertain, just like I am?

“Oliver, what’s your take on the proposed expansion?” asks the client, snapping me back to the present.

“Expansion is… It’s necessary. Growth is key,” I say, parroting lines I’ve said a hundred times before. But my heart isn’t in it.

Throughout lunch, I shuffle food around my plate, pretending to eat while lost in thought. Nora might hate me for my lack of composure through all of this, for my inability to immediately embrace this new reality. And now, she’s unreachable, a silent void where her voice should be.

I could call her up; it should be that easy. But the truth is that it’s anything but. Because how can I call her up when I have nothing to say? Not yet, anyway.

“Should we consider a stepped approach to the investment?” Ben chimes in, seamlessly picking up my slack.

“Stepped approach,” I echo, my voice distant. “Yeah, minimize risk.”

Ben shoots me a look, clearly noting my disengagement, but I can’t bring myself to care. All I can think about is how the ground has shifted beneath my feet, how the future is suddenly an abstract painting — beautiful but indecipherable.

Maybe I should step back from Nora. Make it a clean break and just support the kid financially. But even as the thought crosses my mind, it feels like a betrayal. A child needs their father, doesn’t it?

Then again, don’t they deserve better than a distracted, overwhelmed mess of a man? That’s who I will be if we maintain a relationship. I could never be truly available, not in the way every kid deserves.

“Oliver?” Ben nudges me, pulling me back once again.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “What were we discussing?”

“Never mind, we’ll cover it later,” he says, giving me a long, searching look that I don’t meet.

The meeting drags on forever, or maybe it’s just me, stuck in a loop of dread and longing, counting the seconds until I can escape and maybe, somehow, set things right.

The clink of silverware against porcelain finally fades as the last of our clients shake hands and file out of the upscale restaurant. I’m left staring at the remnants of a medium-rare steak, cut into pieces so small they could pass for a child’s meal. I haven’t touched more than a few bites.

“Oliver,” Ben says, his voice low but insistent. “You’ve been off all through lunch. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” I answer too quickly, pushing my plate away with a clatter that feels too loud in the now quiet space.

I can feel Ben’s eyes on me, analytical and probing, but I don’t meet them. His gaze is like a spotlight I can’t escape, and I’m not ready to perform.

“Come on, man, you’re usually on top of your game. You barely spoke up during the discussion about the expansion plans.” He leans in closer, and I can tell he’s not going to let this go without a fight.

“Ben, seriously, drop it,” I snap. The words come out harsher than I intend, and something shifts in his expression, a mixture of concern and irritation.

“Fine,” he says curtly, signaling the waiter for the check. There’s a new distance between us, one that I’ve put there with my own hands, brick by defensive brick.

As we walk out onto the bustling street, a cool breeze sweeps past, offering no relief from the heat rising inside me. I hate myself in this moment — for snapping at Ben, for avoiding my dad’s questions, for not knowing how to deal with the news of Nora’s pregnancy. It’s like I’m watching myself ruin every good relationship I have, powerless to stop it.

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