Page 156 of The Playboy Billionaire

I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. Sucking in some shuddering breaths.

Shit what was I thinking?

I can’t do this.

I hear the low murmur, of Cal’s voice through the door, although I can’t make out the words. I bend double as a wave of nausea hits, the churning in my stomach now on double speed.

I straighten as I hear footsteps approach. Looking up, I see Miriam rounding the corner. She stops when she sees me and smiles.

“Can I get you anything?” she asks, clearly trying to ignore the fact I’m standing against the wall and having a panic attack.

“Can I order some tea and coffee?” I say, as it’s the firstthing that comes into my head, although I think I’d rather order a double whiskey or brandy.

“Most certainly. I’ll get it sent straight in.” She turns and leaves and I push myself off the wall. I straighten my shoulders and turn back towards the door.

I’ve come to listen to what she has to say to allow for closure. I can’t get that if I hide in the corridor. I place my hand on the handle and turn, letting myself back in. I need, no, I deserve answers and I’m going to get them.

“Why? Why did you give me up?”

The words are out of my mouth before I’ve even re-entered the room fully. The hurt obvious in my voice. My eyes clash with Cal’s as I make my way back over to him. He inclines his head, his eyes shining with pride. I stand next to him, taking his hand in mine as I absorb his strength.

Sarah stands and moves towards me. She holds out a hand, and I stare at it. It’s only when I look in her eyes, I find myself raising my hand to hers and letting her clasp it. A warmth shoots up my arm and into my chest, my heart stuttering.

“I will not give you platitudes or excuses. I can tell you the truth. What you choose to do with that is up to you,” she says, gently squeezing my hand before letting it go.

There’s a clatter of a trolley outside, that has everyone turning to the door.

“I ordered some tea and coffee,” I say, stepping around my mother and moving towards one of the sofas. “Maybe we can all take a seat.”

I need to sit down, unsure how much longer my legs will hold me. My body is shaking, it’s all I can do to stop my teeth from chattering.

Miriam brings the trolley in, and Cal acknowledges her with a smile. I’m sure it’s not her job as hotel manager to act as tea person, but I suspect she wants to ensure what goes onwithin this room stays within the room. No newspaper stories or gossip.

“Thank you. We can serve ourselves,” Cal says, before she turns and leaves, closing the door behind her.

Cal’s serves everyone drinks before making his way to sit next to me, his thigh touching mine. Tim and Sarah taking a seat opposite.

Sarah takes a sip of her tea before placing the cup back on its saucer, the slight clatter as they connect, highlighting the tremor in her fingers.

“I was sixteen when I had you,” she begins. “I’d been on holiday with my parents. We were about to move house. We had already packed up the old house and were having renovations done on the new one. Dad decided a nice holiday in the sun was just what we needed.”

She smiles as if her words bring back fond memories.

I remain silent, although tension curls through my body. Cal rests a hand on my leg and I find myself clasping it in both of mine, a lifeline, as Sarah continues.

“Jeffrey was a year older. He was on holiday with his family too. We hit it off right away. Were inseparable. One thing led to another and —” She pauses. “The holiday ended. We were moving, and I didn’t know our new address. Jeffrey gave me his, and I hid it in the inside pocket of my suitcase. We promised to stay in touch. First love.”

She smiles again, but her eyes radiate a level of sadness when she looks at me. “You have his eyes,” she says suddenly, her gaze shifting to Tim’s. I watch as he takes her hand in his. He is sat as close as Cal is to me. Protecting, supporting.

Sarah’s eyes return to mine as she continues. “My case went missing on the flight home. Some might say it was fate. I didn’t really think much about it until a few months later, when my clothes started getting tighter. I was five months along before I knew I was pregnant.”

“Five months?” I say. You hear stories of people going full term, but Sarah is slight. How on earth did she not know she was carrying me? As if sensing my question, she shrugs and lets out a self-deprecating chuckle.

“We’d been safe, or so I thought. I was young and naïve. My periods were never particularly regular, and I was in my exam year. There was always an excuse.”

“Why didn’t you just give me up for adoption?” I blurt out. She clearly hadn’t wanted me. I was an accident through and through.

Sarah stares at me wide eyed, as if my words are a shock. I watch as she blinks back the tears that threaten. “Never,” she whispers. “I loved you with all my heart,” she says, wiping a tear that’s escaped and making its way down her cheek.

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