Page 43 of Secret Baby for a Damaged Billionaire

“Wow,” she breathes, shaking her head in disbelief. “I never would have expected that from him. I thought he was controlling that stuff better.” She glances down. “I’m glad he didn’t seriously hurt Carlo, though. That would have been awful for both of them.”

“Same,” I agree. “But the problem is, he’s not recovering from the fight.”

She sits up straight. “He’s hurt?”

“Not physically,” I murmur. “It’s his PTSD now. The worst I’ve ever seen. He won’t leave the apartment.”

She lowers her eyes to the creamy swirls in her coffee as the barista places the mugs on our table. “I’ve seen that happen to him before, when he first got back.”

“Really? What happened?” I press for details. “How did he get better?” I ask, needing information so I can help him somehow. I exhale, feeling a weight lift off my chest as I finally share my fears with someone else and they know what I’m talking about.

She shrugs and presses her lips to the side. “Time, I think. I literally had no clue what to do. He just kind of figured it out for himself.”

I swallow hard, realizing I wasn’t getting any answers, and now knowing how alone he’s been in all of this.

As if on cue, our server appears again at our table, oblivious to the seriousness of our conversation. “Would you ladies like any more cream or cocoa powder for your coffee? And are you ready to order something more substantial?”

“Uh, sure, I’ll take some cream,” I mumble distractedly, glancing at the menu without really seeing it. “And I guess we’ll split a croissant.”

“Excellent choice,” the server replies cheerfully before disappearing back into the bustling café.

“Em, I have to be honest,” Chloe says quietly once he’s gone. “I have absolutely no idea how to help someone experiencing PTSD. I feel so useless.”

I know she’s already overwhelmed with her wedding, and the people-pleaser in me stands up, always being the one in our friendship to find the true solutions. “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ll help him. I have an idea that might be really good for him.”

She reaches for her coffee, her eyes brimming with gratitude. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for him,” she says, sincerity lacing every word. “And I’m sorry if I’ve taken you for granted lately with all my wedding craziness. You’ve been a real lifesaver.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say, giving her a warm smile. “Your bridezilla moments have been pretty entertaining.”

A chuckle escapes her lips before she takes a sip of her coffee, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” she admits with a shake of her head. “But seriously, Em, you’re amazing. You’re exactly what Lucas needs right now.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I know I have to do next. It’s time to put everything else aside and focus on helping Lucas—no matter what that entails.

“Okay, listen,” I begin, assertiveness taking over my tone. “We’re going to make a change of plans for today. Forget about the seating chart and the menu for now—we need to concentrate on finding a way to help Lucas.”

Chloe’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her initial resistance evident. “But, Em, the wedding is just around the corner, and we still have so much to do.”

“Lucas is our priority now, Chlo,” I insist, my determination unwavering. “He needs us more than ever, and we can’t let him down.”

She hesitates for a moment, clearly torn between her loyalty to her brother and the approaching wedding. But then, as realization dawns on her face, she nods in agreement. “You’re right, Em. Lucas needs our help. So, what’s your big idea?”

I sit back in my leather armchair planning my next moves with a satisfied smile.

#

With our coffee cups empty and the croissant demolished, we leave the bustling café behind and head off on our mission to save Lucas. And as we walk side by side through the busy streets of Boston, I can’t help but feel a surge of hope. My plan is a good one and I believe it has the power to work.

“First, let me make a quick call,” I say, pulling out my phone and dialing the number for the dog shelter. I know how much Lucas bonded with Charlie during our last visit—maybe spending some time with him and his wagging tail will help ease his symptoms.

“Hey, Jayne. It’s Emily,” I greet the manager when she picks up. “I’m on my way over and was wondering about Charlie. Is there any way he might be able to make a home visit to Lucas today?”

“Hey, Em, of course. Charlie would love that,” she replies without hesitation. “Just come on by, and we’ll get him all set for the visit.”

My heart fills with excitement. “Perfect. Thank you, Jayne. We’ll be there soon.” I hang up the phone, turning back to Chloe with a determined smile. “Wait ’til you meet this dog. Lucas loves him.”

“Um, okay,” Chloe stutters, having little experience with canines, and even less of shelters, but her smile reflects her renewed sense of purpose. “I trust you.”

As we make our way through the maze of high-rises, my adrenaline climbs with the hope that Charlie will be exactly what Lucas needs. Once the sign for the shelter comes into view, I point it out to Chloe and she slows, baring her teeth.

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