Page 73 of Billionaire's Second Chance

“And,” I nudged him, closing my eyes, afraid to hear the rest.

“I spent most of my life trying to outdo my father. All that seemed important was doing stuff for me. Stuff I wanted to be remembered for," he rambled on.

Damon paused. My eyes shifted to his face. Now he stared in my direction but seemed lost in himself.

“With my father on that hospital bed," he continued. "I realized that what mattered to me all along wasn’t the Oscars he had won. All I cared about was the moments we had shared.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief. He wasn't talking about us. He was still concerned about his father.

“See, now I know that Francis Alexander wasn’t happy because he had won so many awards. He won those awards because he was happy,” he concluded.

"Damon, that's beautiful. Not many people can say that they went through life knowing happiness," I found his hand and held it in mine.

"I want that, Ava," his eyes finally cleared up, and looked into mine. "This is the legacy I want to chase and inherit from him. The love he and my mother share is larger than any love story ever written or produced. That's the secret to happiness."

My eyes filled with tears. I had nothing to say. My parents had been bitter and divorced. I had never witnessed the type of love he was talking about. I had no idea it existed beyond books and movies.

His thumb traced my face, chasing after a tear that had been brave enough to escape my eyes without my permission.

"Why are you crying?" He asked with genuine concern. "I didn't mean to upset you."

I couldn't speak, choked up by the lump in my throat. His face grew weary. He knelt on his knees, hugging my waist, his head buried in my belly.

"I'm such a fool for wasting my life away in aimless chasing of fame and fortune, Ava. But with you, I feel like I can be myself. Thank you for accepting me. For forgiving me."

"I'm pregnant, Damon," I exhaled, my hands wrapped in his hair. "It's yours."

22

Damon

Me?Afather?

This must be some kind of sick joke. One of those Punk'd episodes.

But there were no cameras around. Not even a phone or a webcam. Only Ava, wearing a simple t-shirt, jean shorts, and a crooked smile.

"Ava—" I pulled back and stood up, only to realize I was losing ground. "W—what are you saying? We—we used protection every time…except last night, but —"

"But I can't be pregnant from last night, can I?" She reasoned.

"Are—are you sure?" I drowned in confusion.

"I am," she said firmly. "I took a test, and all the vomiting, all the emotions—"

I opened my mouth to say something but then closed it. If I had learned anything from observing my mother and father, it was to choose trust over doubt. I'd question the paternity evidence later. If ever.

"Damon, I haven't been with anyone else in over a year," Ava put all my questions to rest.

Over a year? As hard as that was to believe, my insides burned at the thought of her ever being with anyone else.

And then an unexpected, almost shocking thing happened to my sunken face. As I observed the two of us standing across from each other, limbs drooping to our sides, eyes flashing with questions and concern, the weirdest smile forced its way through my face. Laughter gushed uncontrollably from within my chest. I closed the distance between us, hugged Ava tight, and kissed the top of her head.

"Ava, Ava, Ava," I chuckled. "You have been nothing but trouble since you reappeared in my life."

She pulled her head back to look at me, utterly confused. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because people cry when they're sad. And laugh when they're happy, don't they?" I joked.

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