Page 59 of Flirting With My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

I nod, wiping away the last of the tears that have recently fallen. I’m a complete mess. At least I haven’t put on any makeup yet. I’d look like a raccoon if I had.

She looks furious for a minute. “Did that boy tell you he didn’t want to be with you because you couldn’t have his babies?”

“No, Mom. Of course not. You should know Langston better than that.” But truthfully, I don’t really know what Langston thinks about my infertility. Not fully. We’ve only talked about it briefly.

“Then why aren’t you with him? None of this is making any sense.”

“I can’t be the one to keep him from bearing children. Not when I know now that I’m the messed up one.”

“You are perfect as you are. This is only a trial you are facing in this life. If Langston truly loves you, he will marry you regardless.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ve seen the way his mom talks about the day she has more grandchildren. It would break her heart if she knew she wouldn’t have Langston’s children toddling around her house.”

“She has Hayden, and don’t forget that she has many other sons who can have babies. You’re thinking too negatively and sacrificing yourself for no good reason.”

“You think so?” I ask.

“Yes, definitely. I think you ought to talk to Laurie about it and let her put in her opinion. Why decide for her? That woman adores you and would be thrilled to have you as her daughter-in-law, even if you never bear children with Langston’s DNA.”

“I’ve never really thought about talking to Laurie about it.”

Mom picks up her phone. “We can call her now. I bet you she’d come over right away. She’s concerned for her son.”

“I don’t know, Mom.” I wipe at my eyes. “I think I’m going to need a bit more time to process all of this.”

She covers my hand with hers. “I understand.”

* * *

Idrive down to Gainesville for an informational meeting on becoming a foster parent. The process is supposed to take about six months or so, but I leave the meeting more excited than ever. I really could make a difference in a child’s life. Even if I were to be able to have children, I think I’d want to do this. More than anything, I want to help these dear children. There are so many households out there that can’t provide good lives for these children.

I stop by a fast-food place and grab a burger and a large Diet Coke. I don’t usually eat fast food, but I’m in the mood for it now. There’s something about eating greasy fries and a juicy hamburger that makes me feel a little better about life.

I keep imagining a little girl or little boy walking into my home for the first time, seeing where they’re going to live. I’d have to get a nanny for them while I’m at work, and I’d want the best. I’d be happy with a child of any age, honestly.

Sipping on my soda, I pull up to the stoplight next to Hayden’s school just as classes are letting out. He was supposed to have just had his first day of school yesterday. I’ve been so detached from what’s been going on with him. And now I feel horrible because I’ve become this person in his life that he’s started to get attached to and I’ve just ghosted him.

Would Langston be okay with me coming to see Hayden? Would that be too hard? To be around Langston as a friend again? It’s not like I can just avoid him. He’s too big a part of my life.

I see Hayden running out to his mom’s car. He stops and sees me at the corner and waves with a giant smile on his face, and I wonder if he knows Langston and I have broken up.

I wave back. From what I’ve heard from my mom, Amanda has found a place of her own, and they’ve just moved in.

I head home, and Noodle greets me at the door with a meow. She’s been up to no good while I’ve been gone.

“What have you done, sweet kitty?” There are noodles strung all over the living room like she’s been rolling in it. There’s one noodle hanging down from the end table, and she runs around the house like a wild animal before attacking it.

Where did all this pasta come from anyway? I go into the kitchen to see that I’d forgotten to put my leftovers away last night from when I went out to eat and the clamshell lid has a giant hole bitten into the top of it. So much for that pesto. Apparently, Noodle thinks they’re the best toys ever. Why do I even bother with the giant kitty condo I have for her downstairs? I just need to get her a room full of noodles that she can roll around in.

My doorbell rings, and I open it to discover that Langston is standing on my front porch. My heart goes into panic mode. He looks good, like he’s just gotten a haircut, and his beard is neatly trimmed. He’s wearing a shirt I’ve never seen before, and he’s holding a black bundle.

“Hi,” is all I can say.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“Um, sure.” I open the door wider so he can pass me, and when he does, I catch a whiff of his cologne, which is a mixture of pine and warm spices.

“I brought over your hoodie. You forgot it at my mom’s house.” He hands the black bundle to me.

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