Page 55 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

I’m strolling through the university quad, hands stuffed deep into my pockets, when my phone buzzes. The sight of Dad’s name on the caller ID brings a surprised arch to my eyebrows. I thought I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, but I find myself wanting to talk to him.

“Hey, Dad,” I answer, keeping my voice even despite the tightness in my chest.

“Oliver. How are you holding up?” His voice is raspier than usual, worn down by chemicals and sickness, but there’s an undeniable warmth there.

“Busy as ever,” I say, watching a group of students toss a frisbee across the green lawn. “How about you? How are the treatments going?”

“Ah, you know, it’s a roller coaster. Good days and bad days.” A pause hangs in the air, heavy with things left unsaid. He clears his throat. “And how’s Nora?”

The question hits me like a sucker punch. I stop walking, my gaze fixing on the worn stone path beneath my feet. I’ve walked it so many times, but never while feeling this terrible.

“Dad… Nora’s… She’s pregnant,” I confess, the words stumbling out of me. There’s a weight to them, one I’ve been carrying since she walked away. I brace myself for his reaction, expecting disappointment or judgment. Instead, there’s just silence.

“Oliver,” he finally says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I wasn’t ready either when your mother told me about you. But work… it shouldn’t be your only family.”

I suck in a sharp breath, shocked by how much he’s intuited from my saying so little. I didn’t even say anything about how I feel or what I’ve done, and yet — somehow — it’s like he knows.

I let out a dry chuckle, a defense mechanism against the swell of emotions. “Well, it seems like I’m following in your footsteps because I’m not ready. I might never be.”

“Son…” His voice trails off, a sigh crackling through the phone.

When he speaks again, his words are slow and deliberate. “I haven’t been the best dad. I should’ve been there more and supported you better. Now, looking at what life I’ve got left, I see things differently. Everything falls apart eventually, Oliver. Success, wealth — all of it. In the end, it’s the people in our lives, the connections we make… that’s what lasts.”

I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat. The campus around me blurs as students pass by in their own worlds, laughing, living.

“Don’t wait until it’s too late to realize what you’re missing,” Dad says. “Don’t reach my age filled with regret for the bonds you didn’t fight for. You’ve got a chance here, with Nora, with your child…”

His voice fades into the backdrop of youthful exuberance surrounding me, but his words cut deep, exposing fears and desires I didn’t even know I had. I’m left standing amidst the ghosts of memories, holding onto a lifeline thrown across the distance by a man who’s just as lost as I am.

“Thanks, Dad,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll think about what you said.”

“Good.” I can hear the smile in his words. “That’s all I ask, son.”

We say our goodbyes, and I pocket my phone, feeling an unexpected weight lifted from my shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, I look up at the sky instead of down at my feet — and I start to walk.

I stride away from the heart of the campus, a place where Nora’s laughter once echoed against the stone facades of historic buildings. The conversation with my dad reverberates in my head, his words hitting me harder with each step. It’s as if the vibrant autumn leaves falling around me are trying to signal a change, urging me to wake up from this self-imposed exile from life.

The crisp air fills my lungs, and I’m painfully aware of each breath and each step. Skirting around a young couple entwined on a bench, lost in each other, I get a flashback of Nora on a fall day in September. Her eyes that sparkled like sunlight on the ocean, and her smile that could cut through my worst days. And now, there’s a life — a tiny heartbeat connected to both of us — that I’ve been too cowardly to face.

The pursuit of success has always been my compass, guiding every decision, but in what direction has it truly led me?

A hundred years from now, none of my skyscrapers will matter. No one will remember the deals I closed or the zeros in my bank account. But Nora — she’ll remember. And our child will know whether their father was someone who ran from responsibility or someone who embraced it.

“I screwed up,” I mutter to no one in particular. It takes a few more steps, a few more fallen leaves crushed underfoot, for the decision to solidify in my heart.

“Okay, Nora,” I whisper to the breeze, hoping somehow it carries my words to her. “I’m coming.”

And with newfound resolve fueling my stride, I march toward the parking lot where my car is waiting. Each step feels lighter now, less like walking away and more like moving forward. Towards them. Towards a future that, until now, I’d been too blind to see.

That is, if there’s even the slightest chance Nora will still have me.

CHAPTER 28

NORA

The key clicks in the lock, and I step over the threshold into my apartment, the door shutting behind me with a thud. The space is quiet, too quiet, offering no congratulatory cheers for a job well done or comforting hugs after a hard day’s work. It’s just me, surrounded by the things I’ve collected through the years, each item a bookmark of my past.

I slip off my heels and pad across the cool hardwood floor, absently rubbing my still-flat abdomen. In a few days, I’ll start my new law job — a fresh chapter. But before that, there’s so much to organize. Find a maternal care team, plan for childcare… I’m meticulous in my career; I need to apply that same precision to motherhood.

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