Page 54 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

Which is for the best. I wouldn’t even know where to start when it comes to being a father.

“Hey, dude.” Ben’s voice snaps me out of my reverie. I glance up to see him leaning against the doorframe of my office, his expression a mix of concern and awkwardness. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Right, right. Come in.” I swivel my chair to face him, attempting a semblance of normalcy despite the turmoil inside.

“Look, I know I’ve been a jerk lately,” I start. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day.”

Ben nods, accepting the apology with a shrug. “It’s all right, man. We all have our moments. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” The lie is smooth, but my heart clenches at the deception. “Just a lot on my plate right now.”

“I get it. You know I’m here for you if you need anything, right?”

I nod. “Thanks, Ben. I appreciate it.”

He claps me on the shoulder before heading back to his desk.

As soon as he’s gone, I let out a heavy sigh. If only he knew the truth — that Nora is pregnant and I’m not involved beyond the money I’ll soon be sending her. But admitting that would mean facing the judgment in his eyes, and I can’t handle that, not when I’m barely managing to keep my own self-loathing at bay.

The relentless march of time pulls me back into work, the familiar rhythm of emails and contracts offering a temporary reprieve from my thoughts. I’m deep in the flow when Alex appears in the doorway.

“Hey, Oliver. Just wanted to remind you about your talk at your alma mater today.”

I look up, startled, the reminder hitting me like a gust of cold air. “Oh, right. Thanks, Alex.”

My hands feel clammy at the thought of returning to that place, teeming with memories of Nora and better days. But I made a promise, and I’ve always prided myself on keeping my word.

“Need anything before you go?” Alex asks, his tone professional yet tinged with concern. My other two assistants look on, and I can feel their curiosity.

Surely, rumors about what happened between me and Nora are swirling about the office. What they are, I don’t even want to know.

“No, I’m good. Just… clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Will do. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I force a smile, collecting my notes for the talk. With one last glance around my office, I steel myself for the journey ahead, my resolve hardening with each step toward the campus that once felt like home.

After finding parking, I stride through the arched entrance of the campus, the autumn leaves crunching underfoot. It’s been eight years since I last walked these paths, yet each turn, each building, is a testament to a past that refuses to stay buried. The crisp air does nothing to alleviate the tightness in my chest as I make my way toward the heart of the university.

As I pass the library, its towering columns steadfast against time, a flicker of a memory ignites. Nora and I, laughing, our hands dirty from digging a small hole beside the old oak tree. We were burying a time capsule, a box filled with mementos of our college days — photographs and scribbled dreams on scraps of paper. We promised to unearth it together, ten years from that day, never suspecting that life would pull us so far apart.

“Oliver?” A voice pulls me from the reverie, and I shake my head slightly, refocusing on the present.

It’s a woman — Jasmine something? I forget, but she’s my host for the day, smiling at me like I’m some kind of celebrity. “The auditorium is this way.”

“Right,” I say, following the student volunteer who guides me through familiar corridors that somehow also feel so alien.

I step onto the stage, the bright lights blinding, the expectant faces of students a sea of potential staring back at me. Clearing my throat, I begin the talk I’ve given a dozen times before. It’s about success, about dedication and hard work, about how ambition can take you to the pinnacles of achievement.

“Success isn’t just about what you accomplish,” I say, my voice steady even as doubt creeps into the edges of my mind. “It’s also about what you inspire others to do. About setting an example, breaking barriers…”

But the words feel hollow, a script recited by a man who no longer believes in the story he tells. Because what is success? Is it the figures in a bank account or the skyline altered by buildings bearing my company’s logo? Or is it something else entirely — something I’ve lost along the way?

My gaze drifts over the attentive audience, and for a fleeting moment, I envy them for their ignorance, their belief that if they just work hard enough, everything will fall into place. But life isn’t a blueprint you can follow to the letter; it’s messier than that, filled with unexpected turns and doors that close just as quickly as they open.

The applause at the end of my talk is polite, enthusiastic even, but it rings empty in my ears. They don’t know that the man standing before them, lauded for his achievements, feels the absence of something — or someone — vital to share those victories with. As I nod my thanks and exit the stage, one question lingers, haunting every step: Does the greatest success in the world really matter if you have no one to share it with?

Darting out of the building with a minimal amount of hand shaking, I take cover from the throngs of people. I need to be alone. Need to breathe.

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