Page 40 of The Grumpy Billionaire Baby Daddy

I stay quiet. He keeps his gaze on me, rubbing my hands with his thumb.

“She thought I was the maid.”

“And Richard said you were his girlfriend?”

“Yes.” My voice breaks. I clear my throat.

“Yes.”

He breathes deeply, staring at the floor for a long time before looking up at me.

“Did she insult you?”

I want to say No. I don’t want him to be nice to me simply out of pity.

“I don’t know. She was just rude.”

He bares his teeth, tapping his feet rapidly.

A stray thought hits me.

I’ve descended to new lows. People think I’m a maid now.

Unbeknownst to me, a single teardrop falls from my eye, betraying the overwhelming emotions that have engulfed me. The realization that my very existence, my very being, is at the mercy of another is perhaps the most disquieting sensation one can experience. A mere fleeting encounter with another individual has had the capacity to irrevocably alter the course of my life, impinging upon not only my relationships with loved ones, but also inducing profound physiological changes within my own body. Such is the unsettling nature of this precarious situation in which I find myself.

“Don’t cry. Please.”

With a hesitant motion, he raises his hand to brush away the solitary tear, his touch gentle yet tentative. His hand lingers on my visage, tracing a delicate path along my chin, as if his fingers were custom-made for such a task. At this moment, all of our past disagreements and clashes seem to fade into obscurity, as if they were mere figments of my imagination. For a fleeting instant, a sense of tranquility envelops us, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring us together in this singular moment.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been the best during this difficult time you’re going through. I’ve been really selfish and stupidly insensitive.”

Although I am taken aback by his sudden display of contrition, I am acutely aware that any sort of verbal acknowledgment may serve as a distraction, potentially derailing this fleeting moment. As such, I remain silent, basking in the warmth of his touch and the overwhelming sense of connection that we share in this brief moment of respite.

“I should’ve known better. It’s tough for me, but not half as tough as it is for you. You haven’t seen your parents in months, your best friend’s far away, your life’s on hold, your body’s changing really fast, and you’re incredibly lonely. Yet I never help out with your needs. I’m never available. I treat you harshly even though you’re carryingmychild. I act like I forget you are.”

He pauses like he’s deep in thought and then continues.

“I’ll try to be better from now on. If you ever need anything, you can call me or come over here. I won’t shut the door in your face. I promise.”

He grins and crosses his heart with his finger. I’m still in shock at his apology. He looks up at me and leans forward. It takes me a while to realize he’s staring at my lips. My mind fights the thoughts that stream in. What if he kisses me and becomes cold all over again? What if he sends me out of his room in anger? What if he yells at me again?

When his lips meet mine, all of the thoughts fade into oblivion. His kisses are soft, like flowers in a blooming field. With his thumb, he caresses my skin. Our lips perform a slow dance, one responding to the other in perfect harmony like it’s a dance we’ve been performing for years. He doesn’t rush it. He doesn’t take my tongue like he’s ravenous. Instead, he kisses me like a gift he has to cherish. Like a fragile object. When he breaks away, a smile tugs at his lips. He inches closer, planting a kiss on my cheeks and another on my forehead. Heat rushes through my cheeks, and I hold them to hide the hue. His eyes twinkle. This is the first time there’s something more than a blank expression on his face.

“Will you stay a little longer with me?”

“You want me to?”

He nods.

In one swift motion, he lifts me effortlessly, and I find myself perched upon his lap, my legs encircling his waist. We move together, his sturdy frame carrying us to the massive sofa, where he lays his head gently upon my chest. Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around him, tangling my fingers in his hair, and savor the intoxicating aroma of his shampoo. Time seems to stand still as we remain ensconced in this tender embrace, enveloped by a sense of calm and comfort that is all-encompassing. The nagging thoughts of uncertainty and apprehension that had plagued me earlier are silenced, replaced by a sense of contentment that can only be found in this moment with him. The possibility of his distant demeanor resurfacing tomorrow becomes a distant concern, as the overwhelming sensation of being enveloped in his embrace washes over me, soothing my very soul.

He lifts his head.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“I’m not.”

“Let me know if you are.”

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