Page 25 of Oops Baby for the Billionaire
“We’ll see you in four weeks,” the doctor says. “And your ultrasound can be done any time between now and then.”
“Ultrasound?” I look at Willa with undisguised panic.
“It’s routine,” she says. “Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry I don’t know any of these things,” I mutter under my breath.
“You’ve got that OB on call,” she whispers back. “Pay her to give you a quick masterclass.”
“I texted her already.”
Willa laughs.
I press my luck. “I put her in my phone as Personal Support Obstetrician.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling.
That’s something.
Not much, but…it’s something.
The brief highdissolves into confusion as soon as we return to the car.
Willa refuses to get inside.
“I need to do the next errand on my own,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “Could we have lunch tomorrow instead of dinner tonight?”
I’m planning for us to have breakfast, lunchanddinner together tomorrow, but I’m not going to say that just yet.
“If you want me to wait outside while you look at your new apartment, I can do that.” It’s not like she’s going to be living there. Over dinner, I’ll explain that she can move into my house.
Or I’ll buy her the house next door if she isn’t ready to live under the same roof as me.
Yet.
Yet yet yet.
I’m four months behind, though, so my need to make things right is chaffing at having to be patient.
“I’ll just walk, I’m not going far, just across campus.” She takes a step back.
“Wait.” Something about this doesn’t add up. “You said you were looking at an apartment.”
“I am.”
“On campus?” I frown. “There aren’t residential buildings on campus except for—“ I stop, realizing she probably means a dorm. “You’re looking at student housing?”
She takes another step back. “It’s just for a month or two. I’ll have enough money by the time the baby arrives to move to a proper apartment. I’ve been saving up my money so I can put first and last month’s rent deposit down on a place.”
“What do you mean? Where are you living now?”
“I’m…”
“Willa, where do youlive?”
Her chin comes up defiantly. “That’s not your concern.”
“The hell it isn’t. You’re carrying my child.”
