How to Have Your Boss' Baby

by Layla Valentine

  “There’s more than a business deal in your face,” she says quietly. “What’s actually going on, Reid?”

  I stare at her for several long seconds, letting my brain go through the potential answers. What’s actually going on? I wanted a family, and I didn’t know how to make that happen. I realized I’d never be able to take care of a woman, not the way she deserved to be taken care of, and so I created an alternative. I proposed and signed a contract that says a woman would allow me to get her pregnant, and would then give me the baby and never see it or me again. I did it when I realized how smart and talented she was, and when I knew we’d be physical compatible.

  I did it before I realized that I was falling in love with her. And now that I know how deeply she’s affected me, I don’t know how to get out of the situation.

  I don’t say any of that to my mother. It’s none of her business, and it feels like saying it out loud will somehow make it more real. Which I don’t want.

  “I’ve met a woman, and it’s not… it’s not going the way I thought it would,” I say instead, glossing over the most painful and confusing facts and sticking to something that she might actually understand.

  “How did you think it would go?”

  “I thought… I thought I could keep my emotions out of it. I thought I could maintain my life exactly as it is, without having to involve feelings. I thought I could accomplish what I wanted without endangering myself.”

  Saying it now, it sounds so stupid. I sound like a robot. Completely inhuman. Is that how I’ve looked to Josephine? Is that what she’s thought of me this entire time? When I made love to her and then casually proposed that she have my baby for money, and then never see me again?

  My mother laughs gently and motions for me to come to her. I rise and move to sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her too much, and she takes my hand.

  “You’ve always thought you could control the entire world, Reid,” she says. “I think you must have been born thinking that. But when it comes to matters of the heart…” She shrugs, and in that shrug I see a million things, all of them connected to the way I’m feeling right now.

  The out-of-control, helpless, more-than-somewhat-terrified way I’m feeling right now.

  “I don’t think I know how to love anyone,” I say frankly. “I don’t think I know how to give that part of myself to someone else. I certainly don’t know how to treat anyone else like family.” It’s the most truth I’ve ever used with her, and the idea that I said it out loud brings a strong bitterness with it—the bitterness of a youth wasted, of a childhood where I hadn’t felt loved.

  Of a life where I didn’t know what it was to receive love.

  “Mom, why didn’t you and Dad love me when I was a child? Why didn’t you teach me how to love you?”

  Her face crinkles up and a tear slides steadily down her cheek. She squeezes my hand. “You were always loved, dear boy,” she whispers. “That was never in question. But we didn’t know how to let go of our work, and let you become a larger part of our lives. We’d spent our whole adult lives building those careers, and when it came time to take a step back from them and let you have the spotlight… we just didn’t know how.”

  She looks up and meets my eyes, her own brimming with tears. “It’s the biggest regret of my life. We had everything. Money, each other, a darling boy who wanted so badly to love us. And we threw it all away. I would pay anything to get to do it over again. To fix it. To make us a family. But I didn’t figure that out until far too late.”

  I draw inward, her words hitting me right where it hurts the most. Careers. Jobs. Lives that you’ve worked so hard to build.

  Will I do the same thing to my child? Will I ignore it, let my work life rule me, refuse to be part of a family? And if I do… Who will support that child, if I’ve taken it from its mother? Who will give it love, if I’m not capable of doing so? Because if that child doesn’t have love, it will grow up feeling just like I did.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God, I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’ve set my child up for only half a life, without its mother, and sentenced myself to only half a life. Because I’ve found the woman who could give both of us that love—and I’m about to send her right out of my life.

  I’m about to do to her exactly what my parents did to me.

  My mother must see the thoughts racing across my face, because she gives my hand one final squeeze and then lets go.

  “Don’t let her get away,” she says softly. “You deserve the family you’ve never had. Go and find it.”

  I lean in for a soft kiss on her forehead, and then I’m heading for the door, my phone already in my hand, my thumb on Josephine’s number.

  Chapter 36

  Joey

  “Coffee?” I ask hesitantly.

  Honestly, I don’t even really want to meet him—or I don’t think I do. I just want to talk to him. Tell him that I can’t do this. Tell him that it would be the wrong thing, for me and for our child.

  Tell him, perhaps, that I don’t think I can live without the baby. And that I don’t think I can live without Reid himself.

  But I cross that last point off the list of potential conversations. Reid has never wanted anything more from me than a baby. Telling him that I’ve fallen head over heels for him would just be stupid. It definitely wouldn’t give me a strong negotiating position.

  “Just coffee,” his deep, gravelly voice says through the phone. “I promise. Just to talk. Just to get some things straightened out.”

  I can hear the strain in his voice and I narrow my eyes, wondering what the hell he thinks needs straightening out. He’s been ignoring my calls for a week now, so he can’t be that concerned about whatever it is. What’s changed? What exactly does he need to talk to me about?

  Keep it together, Joey, I remind myself. Remember the plan.

  No matter what he wants to talk about, I have things that need saying. And that’s all I’m going to worry about.

  “Coffee sounds fine,” I say, forcing my voice to sound strong. “There’s a great coffee shop at the base of my building, let’s meet there.”

  I quickly give him the address and a time, then hang up the phone and stare at the wall. So, we’re going to meet again. Well, this time I’m going to have one hell of a surprise for him. Because I’ve got some demands, and I’m not letting my emotions get involved. This time, it’s going to be all business.

  My resolve lasts right up until I see him walk into the cafe. I’m already sitting in my customary booth in the corner of the shop, and I can see the only door clearly. When he walks in, he’s highlighted by a strand of light breaking through the clouds, and the light glints off specks of gold in his hair that I didn’t even know were there. The result is that of an angel walking through the door, surrounded by a halo, and I blink, my eyes dazzled.

  When I open them again he’s just a man. Just a man standing there staring at me, his heart in his eyes. And he looks just as off-balance as I feel.

  He startles as a man clears his throat behind him, and seems to suddenly realize that he’s standing in the way of traffic. With a bashful smile, he makes his way toward me, his steps long and slow, and I wonder if he’s as nervous about this meeting as I am. It’s the first time we’ve met in person since before I told him I was pregnant, and everything has changed.

  Will we even still know what to say to each other?

  He drops into the seat and promptly runs his hand through his hair.

  “It’s so good to see you. I’m nervous as hell,” he says.

  His honesty surprises a laugh out of me, and a moment later he’s laughing as well—at himself and, I assume, with relief that I’m laughing. Then he surprises me again by reaching out to take my hand.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls,” he says, his voice earnest, his eyes open windows into his thoughts. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to act. I guess I thought ignoring the problem would somehow… I don’t kn
ow, make it miraculously disappear.”

  “If that works on your problems, please let me know,” I say. “Because I’d love to start trying it.”

  He grins. “It didn’t work. It didn’t work at all. Actually, it just made it all worse. I’ve… I’ve missed you.”

  Well. Honesty it is, then. I take the gift and hand it right back to him.

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  He lifts my fingers to his mouth and kisses them softly, sending tingles racing through my body.

  Get a grip, Joey. No emotions, remember?

  But I tell that voice to take a hike. It might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, but I’m going to give those emotions free rein. For just one more day. Reid gave me honesty. He deserves my emotions in return.

  One last time.

  He gives me a long, serious look, and then tips his head to the side. “What do you say we blow this coffee joint and get lunch instead? I know a great little Italian place down the road, and I could really go for some pasta.”

  “Pasta sounds great,” I say, rising from my seat and leaving my coffee behind.

  I know caffeine isn’t good for pregnant women. May as well start weaning myself from it now.

  Lunch turns into an invitation to stay with Reid longer, and before I know it he has me in some alley in the Village, where someone has organized a convention of street illustrators, each of them chalking their stories into the sidewalk and street of the alley in bright pastels and neons, each line stark against the darker road. Reid and I stroll along through the artwork, careful not to step on anyone’s work, and admire the talent on display. People have put their whole hearts into their illustrations, and I’m amazed at the level of detail they’ve managed with this medium.

  I’m also amazed that we’ve ended up here at all.

  “Did you know this was going on?” I ask, glancing up at Reid as we walk past a 3D drawing of a castle.

  He shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. “I might have looked it up specifically for this date.” Then he sends me a glance out of the corner of his eye. “In fact, I might have planned out an entire evening for us.”

  The butterflies in my stomach start a riot at this evidence of him caring so much, and I grin unabashedly. “An entire evening? That’s quite a commitment. So, what’s next on this tour?”

  He reaches down and takes my hand—and the butterflies go from rioting to taking part in all-out chaos.

  “I’ve been doing some research, and I know for a fact that women get really tired in their first trimester. I figured at this point you might want a break from so much walking.”

  I laugh, delighted. “I’m barely three weeks along, Reid. I’m not exactly at that level yet.”

  But he gives me a shrug. “Maybe not, but my next stop has a place to sit. And we’re going there regardless.”

  We get to the end of the alley and he sticks a hand out to hail a cab—a move which, miraculously, works immediately. A car screeches to a halt right in front of us, like we’re in some sort of movie, and Reid pulls open the door, beckoning for me to get in.

  “Washington Square Park, please,” Reid tells the driver.

  I give him a questioning glance. “We could have walked there,” I say pointedly. There was really no reason to get a cab for what would have been three blocks of walking, maximum.

  Reid puts up a hand to stop me, though. “What did I say about you getting tired? I won’t have any arguments from you. I’m just taking care of my—”

  He stops himself abruptly and blushes, then turns to look out the window. “I just don’t want you getting tired,” he finishes, though I can tell it’s not what he meant to say.

  I’m just opening my mouth to ask how he was going to end that sentence when we’re suddenly sliding to a stop at the front of Washington Square Park. Reid quickly pays the driver and we exit the cab right in front of the fountains.

  Reid pauses there, watching the water with a look on his face that defies description, and I watch him, smiling at the hazy grin he’s wearing.

  “What is it?” I finally ask.

  He leads me forward and motions for me to take a seat on the wall that surrounds the fountain. We sit and watch the water dancing for several moments, the spray cooling us on the hot afternoon, and I feel my muscles starting to relax. Then Reid reaches out and takes my hand again, squeezing.

  To my surprise, he uses his other hand to reach into his pocket and pull out a handful of change. He looks up at me with a shy grin.

  “When I was a kid, I used to come through this park all the time with my nanny. We were always on our way somewhere, always in a hurry. And no matter how much I asked, she never let me throw any money in. I never got to make any wishes. Just another part of a childhood that was… not what childhoods should be. Would you care to join me in a massive wish-making session?”

  I smile, thinking he’s kidding, but the look on his face tells me that he’s absolutely serious, so I rearrange my features.

  “I happen to be an expert wish-maker,” I say, reaching out to grab a penny from his hand. “What are we wishing for?”

  “Whatever you want. Everything you want,” he replies mysteriously.

  I screw my face up as if I’m thinking about it, and consider my wishes. Of course, I know exactly what I want to wish for—but I’m surprised when the wish suddenly grows and expands in my mind.

  I wish I never signed that contract, I think. I wish I could keep my baby. And Reid. And we could have a family together and never have to say goodbye.

  Okay so maybe that’s multiple wishes, and maybe it’s more than a simple penny can buy you. But as long as we’re wishing, I decide to go for it. I toss the penny into the fountain, laughing at the childishness of it, and then turn to find Reid handing me another.

  “Do you suppose the wish has a better chance of coming true if I you wish for it more than once?” he asks.

  I lean forward and touch my forehead to his, staring into his gorgeous eyes. “Let’s find out.”

  We spend the rest of the afternoon making wishes together, and after we spend what must be about a hundred dollars in pennies, I find that I’m starving again.

  “Dinner?” Reid asks, as if he can read my mind.

  “Yes!” I say. “I’m ravenous.”

  Suddenly realizing that the last time we saw each other, we were having sex, I blush at the use of the term.

  Reid doesn’t miss it. He gives me a sly smile and leans forward slowly, his eyes on my lips.

  “I want to kiss you,” he whispers. “Is that still allowed?”

  My breath leaves me in a whoosh, and I feel a rush of heat between my legs, my nipples coming suddenly to attention.

  “I don’t think we made any rules against that,” I whisper back.

  His hands come up to cup my face and his lips descend on my own, and the kiss is sweet and innocent and beautiful, but quickly descends into something deeper and deeper, his tongue swirling over mine until I’m practically climbing into his lap to get more of him, his hands on my hips, mine wrapped in his hair.

  The sudden scream of a child reminds me that we’re in a public park where there are children around, and I force myself back, breaking the kiss and sucking in a deep breath.

  We stare at each other for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, and I feel Reid flexing his fingers against my back, wanting to grab onto me again. But we both know we can’t. We both know we shouldn’t. This wasn’t supposed to turn into a romantic day out and about New York City.

  This is supposed to be all business. I’m supposed to be telling him that I don’t want any part of his stupid contract.

  “Dinner?” he asks hoarsely.

  And though I know I shouldn’t, though I know it goes against everything I was just telling myself, I nod. “Dinner,” I confirm.

  As we stand and walk toward the line of taxis at the front of the park, I promise myself once again that I’m just giving in for toda
y. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with breaking the contract. I swear.

  Dinner is another Italian place—evidently Reid’s favorite sort of food—and is a blur of amazing food, laughter, and stolen glances. Along the way, we tell each other more about our childhoods and our lives before we worked in the same building, and I find out more about why Reid is the way he is. Although I can’t judge his parents for the decisions they made, since I don’t know their reasoning, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that those decisions scarred the little boy they brought into the world.

  Reid grew up a confused and affection-starved child who didn’t know his place in the world. And I’m starting to see exactly why he has such strange ideas about family, and how you should go about building one.

  But he follows that up with joke after joke, and our natural chemistry is too much for the sorrow to take over. When we leave the restaurant, I’m full to bursting, and comfortable enough that I’m hanging on Reid’s arm, my hand firmly encased in his.

  “Where to now, good sir?” I ask. “Is this the end of your careful planning?”

  Reid gives me a cocky grin that takes up most of his face, his dimples showing up in full effect.

  “Not even remotely,” he tells me, his face turning mock-serious. “I have one last stop on our tour. But this one is a surprise.”

  “A surprise?” I whisper, widening my eyes in shock.

  He laughs outright, then. “It is.”

  We hop into another cab and Reid gives the cabbie an address, and then we’re racing into what is now a chilly New York night, huddled together in the backseat on the way to our next destination. We’re there before long, so we can’t have gone far, but I get out of the cab in a neighborhood that I don’t recognize. These were brownstones once, but they’ve been turned into what look like art galleries, the windows covered in bright colors and hand lettering. These look like…

  I turn to him with a gasp. “Tattoo parlors?”

  He nods once. “One more thing I wanted to do when I was young and could never work up the bravery for. And for this, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for something from you.”