Page 67 of The Grumpy Billionaire Baby Daddy

“I do. So much.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“What? No…I mean…” I throw my hands in the air.

Richard chuckles, a smirk on his face.

“Hey, what’s going to happen with her and the baby now?”

No matter how often I try to avoid this conversation, it keeps coming up. I don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s unusual for me because I always know what to do.

“Do you have any other way to find her physically, at least?”

“I don’t know where she….”

Wait, Fiona’s mom has a Pet shop. That’s it! Why didn’t I think of that?

I jump to my feet.

“Richard, you’re a genius.”

“Wait, what?”

“I have to go somewhere immediately.”

“Err.”

“I’ll explain everything later.”

I hurry over to my closet and throw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Rushing to the mirror, I put away stubborn strands and pick up the comb. Richard watches quietly, his face scrunched up.

When I’m done, I spritz a generous amount of my favorite woody cologne, pick up my car keys and rush out of the room. I race downstairs, bumping into Mom in the living room.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Jason, I need to—”

“Not now.”

I rush past her, out of the house, making straight for the Audi.

Starting the car, I zoom off. What’s the address again? Shoot. I can’t remember. I take my phone out, struggling to keep my eyes on the road while I search for it. Mom sent it to me that day.

It’s obvious I’m the only person who didn’t get thelaid-backmemo for the day because everyone else on the street is waltzing around, and I’m speeding like it’s not Saturday. The sunny morning gives the streets a colorful sheen, and there aren’t as many horn sounds today, which means no traffic. Good. In ten minutes, I’m at Rodeo Drive. The shop was somewhere on the left. I slow down the car, looking up at the signposts. What’s the guarantee that she’s here? Maybe she didn’t even go back home. What if she did? That’s not possible. If she didn’t, then her mom wouldn’t know.

I inhale. I didn’t consider that her mom might be unwilling to talk to me. She knows I’m the one who got her daughter pregnant. Shit. I didn’t think this through.

The huge signpost catches my eye. That’s it. Pet Star. As I approach the building, I squint. It looks like the building is closed. I turn off the car and step out, walking toward it. Sure enough, it’s closed. My heart shatters.

I’m about to walk to George’s Food Court when a sheet on the door draws my attention. I pick it up to examine. This is a bank foreclosure document. They got a loan from a bank and couldn’t pay up. Oh, man, why didn’t Fiona tell me about this?

I turn around, watching people stroll on both sides of the streets. Many of them go over to George’s Food Court. The smell of his hamburgers fills the air, and my tummy growls. I look over there. I should sit there for a while and process my thoughts. I walk over to the Food court and place an order.

“Hamburger and Fries, please.”

“Coming up!”

The place is packed, especially with young adults and elderly folks. A quiet chatter fills the air, mixing with the sounds of frying. After a few minutes, he places a tray with a plate of burger and fries in front of me.

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