Page 20 of Doctor Billionaire's Surprise Baby

“Okay, well. Make sure you get an international calling plan and call me anytime you need to when you’re in Italy. I don’t give a shit about time zones or anything like that. Night or day, call me, okay?” Lindsey reached out and squeezed my hand.

“What does Seth think about all of this, by the way?”

I shrugged.

“I’m not quite sure. He’s not exactly for it, but he’s also not exactly against it either,” I hesitated before continuing. “Part of the arrangement includes Hugo paying for tuition.”

Lindsey stared at me.

“I’m pretty sure this is a movie I saw. Things like this don’t happen in real life.”

I laughed.

“I know, I know. This is all unreal and happened so fast.”

“I’d say.” There was that wounded kitten look again. “Just be careful Simone, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt. We all know Hugo’s reputation with women and I just don’t want you to become the one of many.”

Ouch, that stung. But she was right.

“I know, Lindsey. I’m going to try to go into this with very few expectations and just take it for what it is.”

She squeezed my hand again.

“Well, should we go get something a little stronger than iced coffee?”

I laughed again as I shook my head.

“No, my mom is actually coming for dinner and I promised Seth I’d be home.”

“Does Linda know about all of this?”

“Nope, and I’m not going to tell her tonight. I’ll deal with that after we get back from Italy.”

“Makes sense. Well, I’m serious. Call me anytime.”

“Thanks Lindsey.” She pulled me into a fierce hug before we parted and I hustled home.

My head was still in the clouds as I climbed from the subway stop and walked the few blocks to the condo. Lindsey was right: I had to be careful here. There was a good chance this would end in disaster.

I was still thinking about all the ways my heart could break when I walked in the door and was hit with the unfamiliar sounds of cooking in the kitchen. Neither Seth nor I were what anyone would call handy in the kitchen. Seth subsisted mostly on takeout and my primary food group was frozen meals. It sounded sad, but it worked for us.

Along with the clanging of pots and the banging of cabinet doors, I heard my mother’s voice.

“Are you sure those aren’t burning, Seth?”

“They’re baked potatoes, Mom. I think I can handle them.”

“Okay.” Her voice sounded uncertain and questioning, and I could practically hear Seth’s eye roll all the way in the entry. I threw my jacket in the closet and hustled into the kitchen.

“Mom!” I yelled too loudly and too brightly, startling both of them.

“Simone, honey,” she said and pulled me into a hesitant hug. “How was orientation?”

“Oh, it was good. A lot of information. You know.”

Mom nodded slightly as Seth handed me a glass of wine.

“Seth, how can I help?” I asked as I gripped the glass like a lifeline.

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