Page 53 of Billionaire's Accidental Marriage
My head fell back against the pillows, and I stared up at the ceiling. My brain felt as if it were imploding because of how quickly my life had derailed itself. In the span of the three months since my father had been dead, I managed to usurp his entire empire, fixed his mess with Mike’s money, gotten married, and wound up pregnant.
And he had been here for none of it.
“Daddy should be here,” I whispered.
Mike squeezed my hand before he kissed my forehead. “I know you miss him.”
My lower lip started quivering. “He should be here. He’d know what to do. He’d know what the next steps were. He’s been through this with me. He’d know. I don’t know, Michael. I don’t know anything about any of this.”
I heard a machine off in the distance, beeping faster and faster. The sounds of the world faded off into the background as the stomping of feet rattled the bed I sat in. Suddenly, I was leaned completely back, and some sort of mask drooped over my face. Then something tightened around my arm as if it were trying to squeeze the life out of me through my skin, and I couldn’t catch my breath no matter how hard I tried.
But amid all the chaos and heartbreak and uncertainty and fear, Michael’s voice rang loud and clear as his lips pressed against the shell of my ear. “I need you to breathe for me, beautiful. That’s all you have to do, okay?”
My heart felt as if it were about to explode. Every vein in my body pulsed as blood rushed through my ears. I closed my eyes, drawing in deep, broken breaths as Michael continued sweet-talking me against my ear. And when I finally felt my body settling back down to normal, I opened my eyes and looked over at him only to find nothing but worry and adoration in his eyes.
Does he always look at me like that?
Mike smiled. “There’s my wonderful work wife. How are you feeling?”
I reached up with my free hand and pulled the mask away from my face. “Like shit. You?”
He chuckled. “Over the moon, beautiful.”
I shook my head softly. “How are you so confident? You act like you know exactly what’s going to happen.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know where we’re going to go from here. But, I do know that we can do this, whether we’re together or just co-parents. I know we can do this, and I have confidence in that.”
I furrowed my brow. “Do you always look at me like this?”
He tilted his head. “Like what?”
I felt the tightness around my arm quickly deflate before the sound of Velcro rang a little too close to my ears. “Like you…”
He grinned. “Like I love you?”
I nodded softly. “Yeah.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
As I gazed into his eyes, I wondered what it might be like to wake up to them for the rest of my life. I turned around the idea of living with him. Of raising his child. Of running our businesses side-by-side while we conquered the world. My heart came alive as I imagined him with our baby boy—or baby girl, for that matter. I sniffled as tears of happiness crested my eyes while I pictured us going on walks through the park, pushing our infant in a stroller just so we could get outside.
But this man had babysat me when I was a baby. And now, we were about to have a baby of our own? Wasn’t that weird, or not allowed, or something?
“Would you two like pictures? I know it’s not much now, but some people—”
Michael didn’t look away from me as he answered. “Yes. I’d love some, thank you.”
I shook my head softly. “I’m okay but thank you.”
“You sure you don’t want any?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
The pictures were printed out and handed to Mike, and I watched him as he gazed at the black circle that was supposed to be my uterus or something. I hadn’t been paying attention, so I wasn’t sure what the hell was pictured on that glossy paper. But, whatever it was, it made Mike blink back tears as a smile so big and so bright that it could have outshone the sun spread across his face.
He was genuinely happy about our pregnancy.
And I mean, why shouldn’t he be? Bringing a life into this world was a beautiful thing. Always. But, that revelation only made me feel ungrateful. Spoiled. Like some sort of brat who had no right to keep complaining about her life, which pushed more tears of sorrow down my face.
