by Leslie North
“I guess it’s my fault for believing that we were actually creating something together. It’s just…I thought…” Another wave of sadness washed through her as she thought back on the way their lovemaking had crashed down around them at the opera the night before. “I really thought we were on the same page.”
“If he’s not on the same page with you, then it’s better you find out and take care of it now,” Lainey said. “Otherwise, you’d have been setting yourself up for more heartbreak down the road. You don’t deserve that, and neither does your baby.”
“I know,” Mila said, swiping at her eyes. “You’re probably right.”
“Besides, if he’s not the one for you, then that means there’s still someone out there who is. And you know what? You’re gonna find him. It’s just a matter of time.”
Mila smiled, trying to let her friend’s words warm her. She believed that they were true, but at the same time, there was a pang of sadness inside her. For however much she didn’t want to admit, there had been a part of her that thought she’d found him already. That Grayson was the man who would have been her soul mate. The unexpected love of her life.
There was something about him that had made sense—that seemed to fit her in a way that no one ever had before.
But she’d been so wrong about him. She’d do well to remember that, too.
“That’s not the only thing, though,” Mila said, feeling another wave crash over her. “I got some really bad news this morning.”
“Oh, no. What was it?”
“My landlord is selling the building the shop is in.” What little energy Mila had accumulated throughout the day left her body in an underwhelming hiss. She crumpled back against the couch. “So not only am I single and pregnant, I’m also about to lose my business.”
Lainey shook her head. “Nope. No. That’s not right. You’re not losing your business. The only thing you’re losing is your current location. Your business will be fine. It will just relocate.”
“I’d much rather be bleak and depressed right now, thanks.”
Lainey smirked. “Here. You need to relax. What about Netflix? We can watch a sappy rom-com. No, no, not that—we’ll watch, like, a historical drama or something. Action film? Sci-fi? Maybe a kid’s movie?”
Mila laughed, rubbing at her forehead. “I think I want ice cream.”
“Yes! Ice cream. Let’s go to the place a few blocks over. We can drown our sorrows in ice cream.”
“Our sorrows? Do you have sorrows you haven’t shared with me?”
“Oh, no. Yours sorrows are my sorrows, babe,” Lainey said with a wink. “Now let’s go.”
Lainey herded Mila out the door, and they walked arm-in-arm to the little ice cream shop two blocks away. Mila was too drained to make a decision from their pages-long menu, so she put Lainey in charge of that. Soon, she was holding a small cup of lavender mint ice cream.
“Thank you,” Mila said, sinking into one of the plush seats near the front window. Lainey sat in an armchair at her side. “This was a good idea. Drowning our sorrows in ice cream.” She took a bite and sighed.
“That’s what I’m here for. To remind you to eat your feelings.”
Mila snorted. “I love that you’ll join me at the drop of a hat, too.”
“I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t.”
Mila stabbed at her ice cream, her mind circling back to the whole issue of the boutique. Lainey was right that the eviction didn’t have to mean the end of her business—but that didn’t mean the change would be easy. Or cheap. Frowning, she said, “So does that mean you’ll let me and my baby live with you once everything crumbles to the ground?”
Lainey snorted. “Girl, you are being extra dramatic today. But yes, of course. I would absolutely let you live with me, for as long as you needed, if things crumbled to the ground. But they won’t. Not even in the slightest.”
“It sure feels like they’re crumbling.”
“Not crumbling—just rearranging themselves. Think of it as growing pains. Like what your hips are gonna do as your body gets you ready to birth that baby. Ya know? They’re not being ruined—they’re just making way for something way cooler.”
Mila grinned. Of course, Lainey could turn around her saddest, most dour mood with ease. “That’s a pretty solid analogy right there. You came up with that yourself?”
“All on my own. Inspired by this mint chocolate chip ice cream, I’m pretty sure.”
“And just to be clear—you could always come live with me too, if you ever needed to,” Mila said. “Lord knows I’ll be dying for an extra pair of hands to pitch in with feedings and diaper changes once the baby’s born.”
“Maybe I just want to come live with you and Junior,” Lainey teased. “Although you’d probably yell at me too much for getting paint on the walls.”
Mila snickered. “I guess I could make some concessions. No paint on the baby—fair deal?”
Lainey shrugged. “You negotiate hard. Even though I’m not sure what the deal is we just came to, I agree to it.”
The two friends laughed, and for the first time since last night Mila felt a trickle of hope go through her.
Things might not have worked out as she wanted with Grayson, but she would continue on. Even if her heart hurt for weeks—possibly months—after, and even if she thought of Grayson every time she looked at her baby…she’d be able to move on.
She needed to hold onto that.
Because if she didn’t, then the heartbreak would tear her apart.
19
The final results of the Fashion Challenge were officially announced the following week with Finlay Technologies finally revealing which selections had been Mila’s and which had come from the app. Grayson’s app had won, two challenges to one, though the margin on all three challenges—especially the last one—had been razor-thin. Even though the win was what he’d been looking for, Grayson was still amazed at what an outstanding job Mila had done. But that was just Mila—everything about her was outstanding…and out of his reach.
Even a week after that unsavory meeting in her apartment, he still couldn’t quite convince himself to stop caring about her. He knew, down to his bones, that he was making the logical choice. The choice that made the most sense for himself, his business, and the unexpected baby. And to prove to himself what a good guy he was truly being, he set up the bank account for her anyway, despite her wishes. Now he was biding his time before he sent her the information.
Because one thing was for certain: he had even more money to spare now that his app challenge had been such a viral success. Everything was unfolding just as he envisioned. So why did he still feel like he was making a mistake?
Mila emailed him before lunchtime that day, which surprised him. Her message was terse and to the point:
Grayson,
Congrats on the app success. I hope you’re happy with the outcome, and that your business reaches all the success you’ve dreamed of. Please don’t feel obligated to reply. Your priorities are elsewhere and I accept that. You’re off the hook. Any money you try to send my way will end up in a trust fund for the baby.
Mila
He re-read the email what felt like a hundred times, the frown on his face deepening each time. This, too, was what he had envisioned as a best-case scenario for the situation. Ensuring his child’s future success, security and stability—all the things he’d lacked and had so desperately craved as a child. So why did her email feel like a knife in the chest? And why did none of the things he’d done feel like they were enough? He’d spent his whole damn life trying to get to a point where he could feel he was good enough, successful enough, capable enough to deal with any situation that occurred. But with this, with Mila, he felt like such a failure.
Grayson rubbed at his face, trying to source the root of his displeasure. He mulled on it all day, running through possibilities and potentialities ad nauseum. At the end of the workday, his investors sent a group email demand
ing an after-work cocktail to celebrate. Grayson couldn’t refuse.
He showed up to the high-end cocktail bar nestled in the Financial District at five thirty, more than ready to drown some of his faceless, wordless sorrows with alcohol. That was the worst part of all. He’d ticked all the boxes on his to-do list, yet he still got the sense he was missing something huge. He was a meticulous planner. He didn’t overlook obvious things. But there was a huge, invisible elephant lurking in the room somewhere. And Grayson could not find it.
A huge group was already at the rustic-themed bar waiting for him, all types of investors that he’d been collaborating with as he readied his business for the IPO. Cheers erupted as he headed toward the group of tables cut from thick slabs of tree trunks, reserved for Finlay Technologies.
“Here’s the man of the hour,” an investor named Rick said, clapping him on the back. “Our viral leader!”
Grayson forced out a smile. “Aw, come on guys…”
More compliments rained over him, but he couldn’t enjoy them. Not fully. In fact, he couldn’t stop thinking about Mila. He’d replayed the naked hurt splashed across her face from that night at the opera house no fewer than two hundred times, mostly when he was trying to get to sleep at night. Or when he woke up alone in the morning, reaching for someone who wasn’t there. Or when he was taking a shower. Or when he was eating. Walking. Breathing. Basically, whenever he wasn’t actively thinking about something else. He still revisited that moment when he’d made the decision not to go after her—and had even begun imagining what might have happened if he’d followed.
And even here, in the middle of all this reverie, her words from the email returned to him no matter what he did, even after downing two shots of whiskey back to back: “off the hook.”
It was the least romantic email he’d ever gotten from a former lover. Not that romance was ever his strong suit, but still. The whole thing reeked of disappointment.
In fact, he was disappointed. In himself.
“Whatcha thinking about?” An investor named Timothy nudged him once the group had broken off into their own conversations, leaving Grayson staring at the spindly rings of the tree trunk tabletop, lost in thought.
“Probably about how many fucking zeroes he’s about to have at the end of his bank account,” Rick teased.
Grayson forced a laugh, his gaze traveling around the table. Over ten men here, all of whom he knew very well in the business world. But as for the personal sector…if his memory was correct, then easily half of the men sitting here with him were going through a divorce. The other half had kids and never saw them. Almost none of them shared any stories about their families.
One thing they all shared in common, though, was the fact that they made money obsessively.
They all cared about money, first and foremost. Not a single other thing mattered beyond that bank account. Grayson swallowed hard before he tipped more alcohol into his mouth.
“Got any wild vacations planned, once you head out to celebrate?” Timothy asked. “Which you’ll be doing, right?”
“Pff. If I was Grayson, I’d be heading to Europe ASAP to find myself a yacht and some barely-legal groupies,” Rick said with a smile that looked more like a leer.
Grayson turned the tumbler of whiskey on the rocks back and forth in his hand. He hadn’t even considered a vacation—and definitely hadn’t considered finding himself a yacht and some groupies. Plenty of the men at this table entertained themselves with wild vacations like that—getting laid, dropping millions for just one weekend, whether or not their marital status allowed it.
It was probably why the bulk of them were divorced or heading that way.
But if he had to choose one thing to do, one thing that might actually make him happy, he already knew what it would be. And it had nothing to do with mindless sex or bleeding out his bank account.
No, it looked a lot like groveling at Mila’s feet. Not that she’d even let him near her. She’d probably closed that chapter in her mind and moved on.
“I think I’m going to stay in town, actually,” he said, leaning back in his chair. A few of the other investors sighed, like this was the most disappointing response they could have imagined.
But Grayson didn’t care. He was done with trying to emulate that billionaire playboy persona that the rest of them yearned for. His mind still worked overtime trying to solve the problem with Mila. All he ever cared about before was not being the kid he used to be: the kid with holes in his shoes, the kid who couldn’t afford lunch, the kid who had to work two jobs in high school just to help out his mom.
Well, here he was, as far away from that kid as he could possibly be. He was sitting on top of the world. Had everything he ever wanted.
He just never imagined that making it here would come at such a high price: that of relinquishing his chance at a happily ever after.
20
Grayson called Blake as soon as he stepped out of the party at the bar. The alcohol hadn’t made him feel celebratory, or excited, or any of the things he’d been looking forward to alongside his success. No, now he just felt lower than ever. Worse off, somehow, even though for all intents and purposes he should have been on top of the world.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Blake said.
“Are you busy?”
“No, I’m just getting home.”
Grayson checked his watch. It was almost eight p.m., and he still hadn’t eaten anything for dinner beyond a handful of peanuts at the bar. He needed to get back to his penthouse, fill his belly to soak up the alcohol, and continue his discontent in some other fashion. “I need to talk. But we need to get Daniel on the call too.”
“Sure, man.” Blake sounded hesitant. Concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“I’ll explain in a minute.” With Blake still on the line, Grayson attempted to call Daniel. Just as his personal driver drove up to pick him up, Daniel answered.
“Hey, buddy,” Daniel said.
“I’m here too,” Blake piped up.
“You got a minute?” Grayson asked as he slid into the back seat of his car. “I needed to talk to both of you about something.”
“Of course. I’m just leaving the office, so I’ve got the time.”
Grayson drew a fortifying breath. He hadn’t planned on telling his friends about the pregnancy quite yet. In fact, he’d been hoping to ride the wave of compartmentalization a few weeks longer.
But it was impossible to keep pushing this back. Not after the horrible blow-out at the opera, or their break-up at Mila’s house. Not when he was incapable of thinking about anything else—even what should have been the crowning of his own coveted success, which he’d been working toward tirelessly for years.
If that isn’t a sign that something’s wrong, then what is?
No, there was something seriously amiss, and he needed his friends on his side to help him work his way through it. Daniel and Blake were just as crappy as he was at relationships, but they knew him better than anyone else in the world, and they were nothing if not avid problem-solvers. And here, he had the big kahuna of unsolvable problems.
“So. I guess I’ll save us the runaround. I’m going to be a dad.”
Stunned silence filled the line.
“Wait, seriously?” Blake said.
“We need some more background information here,” Daniel said with a nervous laugh. “Last time we talked, it seemed like you were still in the early stages with your girlfriend. How did things get this serious this fast?”
Grayson launched into the executive summary of him and Mila—from their accidental meeting the day of his ruined clothes, to pulling her into the challenge, all the way to their sorry pseudo-breakup in her apartment last week.
“I think it’ll just be best if I pay child support, play a minimal role, and let that be that,” Grayson finally said.
The line went eerily quiet again.
“Okay, so, what did you need from us again?” Blake asked. “It sounds lik
e you have it all figured out.”
Grayson rubbed at his face. “Yeah. I do, don’t I? Except it doesn’t feel like I do. I can’t get rid of this nagging sense that I’m missing something.”
“You got Mila set up with a trust fund, you figured out how involved you want to be,” Daniel said. “I don’t think you missed anything. Now, all that remains is getting the custodial situation hammered away. Draw up a contract with your lawyer and once you two sit down and sign, you’ll have taken care of everything.”
Grayson’s stomach yanked painfully at the words custodial situation. “Right. The legal side will definitely be hammered out by the time the baby is born. I don’t even—” His voice faltered before he could say the words. He was going to say ‘I don’t even want custody’ but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his kid—but he wanted what was best for the child. And that couldn’t be him, right? He couldn’t be a father. Stepping back was the smartest, kindest thing he could do.
So why did it feel so wrong?
“What?” Blake prompted.
“I still feel like I’m overlooking something. I’m just trying to do what’s best.”
“Okay, let’s look at this logically,” Daniel said. Typical Daniel, always assuming every problem could be picked apart and explained. “You’ve already said you’ll be providing for them financially, right?”
"Right,” Grayson agreed.
“So if you think you should be doing more, does that mean you want to be more involved, from a custody perspective?”
“What? No! Getting involved would be a terrible idea.”
“For who?” Blake asked.
“For everyone. Mila. Me. My business. And the baby.”
“Why is that? Why shouldn’t you be part of the kid’s childhood and all that?” Daniel asked.
Grayson faltered. Here it was. Back to square one. “You guys know as well as I do that I have no business raising a kid. I have zero fucking idea what to do—”
