I took a deep breath and looked away. Part of me wanted to tell her it was nothing, to thank her for her concern. But the greater part of me wanted to spill my guts.
So that’s what I did. It normally wouldn’t be my style, but I needed to talk to someone.
“There was a reason why I came back here,” I said. “Something other than seeing the old city after so long.”
“Oh?” asked Sarah. “And what’s that?”
I went right into it, telling Sarah about Chloe, our brief time together, how I left her, and that I was back here to see if maybe, just maybe, she and I could start something new.
By the time I was done giving Sarah all the details, I felt so drained that I had to sit down.
“Damn,” she said. “That’s a hell of a story. No wonder you haven’t been looking for anyone in New York; your heart’s been somewhere else this whole time.”
“Yeah. I’ve tried to date here and there, but no one’s managed to have even a shade of the effect Chloe’s had on me. It’s like I’m stuck.”
“And you came back to tell her how you feel, only for her to shoot you down?”
“Not quite shoot me down. It was obvious that she needed time to think. But she made sure that I had her number.”
“That’s a good sign. But wait, do you even know if she’s still single? Maybe she’s dating someone, or married, even.”
I realized that I’d been so preoccupied with my feelings that I hadn’t noticed if Chloe was wearing a ring, let alone asked her if she was still single.
“That’s a good point,” I said. “And I have no idea. I mean, I could call and ask her…”
“It’s a bit late for that now,” Sarah said. “Why don’t you look her up on social media? I bet she has some kind of presence online.”
My heart raced with the prospect of finding out more about what Chloe had been up to.
“I’m going to do that right now.”
Sarah laughed. “Well, good luck and happy stalking. I’ll keep you posted on any new developments here in the city.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “And…thanks for listening.”
“Anytime, J,” she said.
We hung up, and I hurriedly grabbed my laptop out of my bag, set it down on the kitchen table, and booted it up. Moments later, I had the internet opened, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. My fingers blurred as I typed in Chloe’s name, along with the location.
But there was nothing. As far as I could tell, Chloe didn’t have any sort of social media presence. A little more digging, however, revealed a “Chloe S” tagged in a photo on SplitShot by a woman named Isabella.
I clicked and revealed a picture that made me gasp.
It was Chloe all right, standing in the middle of the living room in a cozy little house.
And on the ground playing were four children, all the same age, all with similar features.
Quadruplets.
At first, I assumed that they belonged to this Isabella woman. But the more I looked at the picture, the more I realized that this wasn’t the case at all.
The first thing that struck me was that two of the children—one of the boys and one of the girls—had fire-red hair. I ran my hand through my own hair, considering how the hair of the children was the exact same shade. The children also had my same fair skin.
What’s more, the children all looked to be about a year-and-a-half old. The period of time when Chloe and I had our affair was easy to remember—it was right near the holidays. Doing some quick math, this meant that these kids were likely conceived at about that same time.
Everything lined up. It was very, very likely that these children were mine.
I closed the laptop and got up, practically buzzing with nervous energy.
Was it possible that Chloe had gotten pregnant with my children, had them, and cared for them on her own for this long without saying a single word of it to me?
Why would she do such a thing?
Then it occurred to me—why would she do anything else? After all, during our time together all I’d managed to show her was that I was careless and cocky and didn’t give a damn about anyone other than myself.
I recalled our conversation in the kitchen that Christmas, remembering how I’d told her that she was nothing more than the “help.” An embarrassed shudder ran through my body as it always did when I thought back to that night.
I wasn’t pleased that Chloe had kept this secret from me if it indeed was true, but I understood. She likely wanted to make sure that her kids were raised away from the influence of someone like me.
Still, if these were my kids, that meant I’d missed out on so much time already with them. A strange feeling, something like panic, gripped me. I was determined to find out if the kids were mine, and the only way to do so would be to confront Chloe in person.
I knew she’d told me that she needed time, but this was too important to wait.
Chapter 29
Chloe
“Alfred! Put that down, now!”
Alfred looked up at me, a totally innocent look on his face as he held a spoon full of oatmeal, ready to launch it across the room.
He was being difficult as usual, and it struck me as it often did how dissimilar he was from his namesake. Fussy and bossy, little Alfred couldn’t have been any more different than Alfred King.
“Put it down, now,” I said. “I’m not telling you twice.”
“Cookie!” he squealed, and as happy as I was to hear him speak, all I could think about was that it was breakfast time, and I needed get the crew seated and fed. Alfred was in his highchair, but the rest of the kids were in the living room, playing and carrying on.
I’d gotten so used to help from friends and family over the last few weeks that I’d forgotten how difficult all of this could be when it was just me.
“Madeline! Ethan! Sophia! Don’t you all want breakfast?”
The magic word “breakfast” managed to get Sophia’s attention, but the other two looked like they were more interested in horsing around than eating. I scooped up Sophia and got her in her highchair, placing a bowl of oatmeal topped with fruit slices in front of her. She happily began eating along with Alfred as I turned my attention back to the rest of the kids.
“Guys! Last warning—time to eat!”
But it didn’t do any good. Ethan and Madeline were climbing all over each other, and I knew that they’d start squirming and crying if I went in to pick them up. But I didn’t have any other option. I blew a stray strand of hair out of my face and prepared to move in.
Before I could make a move, however, a knock sounded from the front door.
Likely a salesman or some other bother, it was the last thing I felt like dealing with.
“Come back later!” I called out.
Silence came from the door as I squatted down and prepared to move in to grab Ethan.
Then the knock sounded again. Damn it, they weren’t going away.
“Who is it?” I called out.
More silence.
“Jordan.”
I stopped in my tracks, the kids laughing and carrying on.
Was Jordan here? Jordan King? At my home?
With my kids?
I wanted to pretend that I wasn’t here, but it was far too late for that. The time had come for him to learn what was going on. Right in the middle of my mad rush to get breakfast ready, he was about to find out. My heart raced as I stepped slowly toward the door.
With a deep breath, I opened up. Right as I did, Ethan and Madeline decided to be good little kids, toddling over to my legs and wrapping their arms around them.
Jordan’s eyes went right to the two children at my feet, then over to the other two in the kitchen, both of them still happily munching on their oatmeal.
The color drained out of Jordan’s face as he took in the scene.
“You…you came to my house,” I muttered, not sure what else to say. “How did you even know this is where I lived?”<
br />
“Same way I found your address for the flower delivery—my dad’s lawyer had records of your address.”
Then his expression turned serious.
“Chloe,” he said, pointing down to the children at my feet. “Are they mine?”
There was no point in lying. I’d done enough by omission. Telling him to his face that these kids weren’t his would’ve been totally ridiculous. Besides, I was done with lies.
“They’re yours,” I said, closing my eyes, feeling the pressure of the kids at my feet squeezing my legs as they babbled and cooed.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Jordan. He said nothing, his eyes moving from child to child, as if burning the image of each of them into his mind.
His expression was one of total shock. I braced for whatever he was going to do next, half-expecting him to launch into a tirade right in front of the children.
But what he did next I expected even less.
He simply turned around slowly and walked away.
My eyes tracked him as he approached his sports car, the same one he’d driven me in during our dates. Without another word, and without even looking back at the children or me, he got into his car, gunned the engine, and drove off.
And just like that, the confrontation that I’d feared for as long as I could remember was over.
The kids left my side as soon as Jordan was gone. I stood there for a time, watching his car vanish down the road, wondering if this had all actually happened.
I shook my head, bringing myself back to reality. Shutting the door, I turned my attention back to the kids. They were calmer now, and I was easily able to get them into their highchairs and eating.
Jordan had learned the truth. There was no going back.
But the more I thought about it, the more his reaction angered me. He hadn’t asked to come in, hadn’t said anything to the kids. Hell, he hadn’t even asked their names. Jordan simply walked away, like he’d done to me. Maybe he wasn’t so different than the man I’d thought he was.
Either way, I knew that everything about my life was about to change. Whether it would be for the better, I’d have to wait and find out.
Chapter 30
Chloe
Another morning, another frantic breakfast. This time not a single one of the kids wanted to get into their chair. I’d been at it for an hour, picking one kid up and dealing with his or her squirming and crying, only able to handle it before setting the child back down and trying for another.
In the kitchen, the scrambled egg casserole was cooking in the oven, the smell of baking cheese filling the air. I was hungry as hell, but I had to get each of the toddlers into their seats before I could even think about the breakfast and coffee that I’d been craving.
I rushed over to Ethan, grabbing the little guy and hoisting him into the air. He let out a thrilled squeal as I brought him over to his highchair and plopped him down into it.
One down, three to go. I’d only been up for an hour, and I was already feeling exhausted. But dwelling on that wouldn’t get the kids into their highchairs any faster.
Next was Madeline. She was being extra squirmy today, but I managed to pick her up without too much fuss. Moments later, she was in her highchair and ready to be served. Ethan was banging on his highchair tray with his plastic spoon, and I knew that if I didn’t get some food in front of him fast the waterworks would be inevitable.
“Come here, dude,” I said to Alfred, who was in the process of stacking blocks into a high tower and knocking them over, again and again.
I grabbed one of his blocks to bribe him, and sure enough, his eyes locked onto it. While he was distracted, I picked him up and got him into his chair.
Last was Sophia. She seemed to realize that it was her turned to get picked up, and she flashed me a challenging, playful expression. I squatted down, my arms stretched out to grab her.
With a wild giggle, she took off, running as fast as her stubby little legs would carry her. She tried to juke around me like a football player, but I was too quick for the little lady. With a swift movement, I grabbed her and raised her into the air.
Moments later, she was in her highchair. Now, time to serve them some breakfast.
The oven timer went off as soon as Sophia was in her chair. Perfect timing. I turned it off and took the casserole out of the oven, the eggs cooked to golden-brown perfect, the layer of cheddar on top bubbling and hot. The four pairs of eyes in the room locked onto the dish.
I set the casserole on the counter and carved out four pieces onto plates to get it to cool faster. In the meantime, I filled sippy-cups with milk and made sure each child had a spoon. Once the casserole was cooled, and everything was ready, I served the kids. They, thankfully, started in on their food right away.
Breakfast was served. The whole process had taken about an hour and a half, and that wasn’t including clean-up time. Mornings like this made me wonder if I had it in me to raise these kids all on my own, but it’s not like I had a choice.
Lunch would be in a couple of hours, and the whole process of cooking then wrangling the kids then cleaning up would repeat again. If I was lucky, I’d be able to get in some blogging time, but I wasn’t counting on it.
One last check on the kids revealed that they were enjoying their food, and at last it was time for me to enjoy mine. I poured myself a big mug of coffee, treating myself to a little cream and sugar. Then, I placed my serving of casserole onto my plate and sat down across from the quads.
My mouth watered as I started at the casserole on the end of my fork. Making something more complicated than oatmeal or sliced fruit had taken more time, but it had almost certainly been worth it.
I brought the fork to my mouth, but just before I was able to take my bite, knocking sounded out through the house.
“Are you kidding me?” I said out loud, setting my fork down with frustration and getting up.
I glanced back at the food for a moment, considering shoving it into my mouth before getting the door. But I decided that I wanted to deal with the nuisance so I could enjoy my breakfast in relative peace.
A thought hit me—was it Jordan? Had he come back to apologize for how he’d acted yesterday morning?
Whatever; it didn’t matter. If it was him, then I’d deal with it.
Still, I couldn’t help but be curious.
“Who is it?” I called out.
“Package delivery for Chloe Sanderson!” called out a booming voice.
Another package. I wondered if Jordan was sending more flowers to try and butter me up again.
I opened the door, a delivery man on the other side, a shoebox-sized package under his arm.
“Morning, miss,” he said.
“Morning,” I said, wondering what I was about to receive this time.
He handed me something to sign. I signed, and after handing me the package, the deliveryman swiftly took off.
I looked over the box as I walked over to the kitchen table. Setting it down, I quickly took the bite of my food. Damn, just as good as I was hoping.
Next, I went to work on the package, cutting the tape with a knife and opening it up. Inside was a smaller box from a place called Mon Bébé, along with a note.
I opened the box, my hands shooting to my mouth when I saw what it was.
Four little chef’s hats, all baby-sized and completely adorable. I couldn’t resist; I took one of them from the box and placed it on Alfred’s head, the hat fitting him perfectly.
“So cute!” I said.
Now, the note. I took it from the box and opened it, instantly recognizing the handwriting as Jordan’s.
Coffee in hand, I began to read.
Chloe,
I’ve done plenty of stupid things in front of you, and yesterday morning I gave myself something new to add to the list. It goes without saying that I’m sorry for the way I reacted. I won’t bore you with any excuses, so I’ll cut right to the chase and ask that you join me at my father’s mansion ton
ight. I think it’s time we talked.
Jordan.
He was right. It was time.
And finally, I felt ready.
Chapter 31
Chloe
I was shocked by the sight of the King estate. The place looked like it had been abandoned for decades instead of only two years. The formerly well-kept greenery was overgrown and wild, the lighting had fallen into disrepair, and the absence of any of the usual coming-and-going of guests and staff gave it a desolate appearance.
It was a shadow of its former glory.
After pulling into my usual spot, I approached the mansion as though I was walking up to a haunted house. Only the sight of Jordan’s red sports car parked off to the side managed to put me at ease.
I gave the stately front doors a knock. Moments later they opened, revealing Jordan King himself. He was dressed in a light blue button-down shirt, gray slacks, and gorgeous light brown shoes.
“Welcome,” he said stepping forward and giving me a hug. “So glad to see you.”
“Same here,” I said.
But my eyes were on the interior of the house. Under the harsh glare of the overhead lights, I saw that nearly every surface of the entry hall was covered in a thick layer of dust. Beams of sunlight shining in through the windows caught more dust and grime floating in the air.
Jordan stepped back and gestured for me to come in.
“I know,” he said leading me further into the space. “The place is a mess.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Neglect,” he said simply, our footsteps echoing through the barren home. “A place like this needs constant upkeep. There’s a reason my father had such a large crew of caretakers. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to look after it.”
We went further into the house, Jordan leading me to the large dining room table, the place where he was sitting when I first laid eyes on him so long ago. The table was covered in the same layer of dust as the rest of the house.
Four Secret Babies - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 7) Page 18
