Page 39 of Baby By my Best Friend's Daddy

I nodded. “I’ll have my driver bring you back here afterward.”

She nodded, and we walked to my car. I opened the passenger door for her and shut it behind her before going around the other side. Usually, I would have driven myself, but I was still wearing the moon boot. My ankle was good enough that I didn’t have to use the crutches anymore, but I walked a bit slower with the boot.

My driver started the car and took us to a small private airfield just outside Seattle.

“What are we doing?” Rebecca asked.

“We’re going far away from here, where we don’t have to worry about looking over our shoulders,” I said.

I nodded toward the jet I’d had them pull out of mothballs just for the occasion. I hadn’t used my private jet in a while, but this seemed like as good a time as any.

“We’re… flying?”

“Sure,” I said. “You’re okay with flying, right?”

She nodded, but she still looked a little shell-shocked.

We walked to the jet together, and a flight attendant greeted us with a warm smile and soft wave of her hand.

When we climbed onto the plane, I tried to see it through Rebecca’s eyes. The interior was decorated in cream leather and dark wood with chrome finishes. The seats faced each other, rather than the front, to make for easy conversation, and the jet had a stocked wet bar and kitchen in the back.

When we were airborne, the flight attendant brought us mimosas.

“This is crazy,” Rebecca said and sipped the fizzy orange drink. “I love mimosas.”

“Yeah?” I asked with a grin. “Me too. It’s the best idea anyone had to butcher orange juice, and I refuse to drink it any other way.”

Rebecca giggled and looked out of the window. The sky was starting to color all around us. “Where are we going?”

“Oregon,” I said. “I have a friend in Portland who owes me a favor.”

“Does everyone owe the Leggatts favors?” she asked.

“Oh, you bet. We drive a hard bargain,” I said with a grin.

We touched down a few minutes later, and I led Rebecca to a black rental car. A driver took us to Basil, a restaurant a good friend of mine opened a decade ago. When we arrived, he opened the door for us himself.

“Thanks, Pete,” I said when he led us to a table that stood in front of large windows that looked out over the city. Despite the blush of dawn in the sky, Portland’s lights still twinkled.

“This is beautiful,” Rebecca said when we sat down, and she took in the view.

The server Pete had appointed brought us orange juice—clean, this time.

“This is why I brought you here,” I said.

The sun rose above the horizon, a brilliant red disk that flooded the world around us with splashes of orange and gold. The new light of day injected color into a world the night had drained of it, and it animated the earth.

“I see sunrises all the time after my night shift, and it’s never been this beautiful,” Rebecca said in a breathy voice.

“This is one of the best views in the world,” I said.

I’d brought her here because I knew Rebecca would appreciate something like this, but that hadn’t been my only reason. I liked the idea of us being together without feeling like we had to hide. I wanted to spend time with her without looking over my shoulder, wondering which of our friends—or the tabloids that followed me around once in a blue moon—would catch us together and ask questions.

Right now, Rebecca and I were caught in a bubble of perfection, and I wanted to keep it this way for as long as I could.

When the sun rose higher into the sky, the sky took on a more subdued color, and the server brought us a plate with eggs Benedict, perfectly poached with hollandaise sauce that melted in my mouth. A bacon rose accompanied it, a work of art, and more orange juice, this time with champagne again.

We talked, and conversation came so naturally with Rebecca. I could talk about anything with her. I loved being able to talk to her. I loved being able to spoil her. I’d wanted to show her a good time, a time that was equal to what she was worth.

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