by Emily Bishop
Her azure eyes were so wide they were on the verge of morphing into donuts or side plates. She shook her long, blonde hair back, pursed her lips tight—she’d chosen purple lipstick today. Now, there was a color I couldn’t pull off.
“His name is Jax,” I said.
“Riley! Are you insane? Are you actually out of your mind?” she continued.
I slipped down the pole and landed easily, then sighed and walked over to the stereo in the corner, clicked it off. Classes hadn’t started yet—this was our morning warm up together, and I was the idiot who’d told her all about the man who’d saved me, who’d driven me to the brink of madness last night.
“Ronny,” I said in the silence, and turned back to her.
“No, no, no, don’t you Ronny me.” She waggled her finger at me. “Don’t you dare. This is totally out of character for you. I mean, every woman has needs, but to go home with some douche who wants to buy—”
“I know,” I said and raised a palm. “I know, OK? It wasn’t my finest moment, judgment-wise, but it was…” How could I accurately describe the dreamy quality to last night? It’d been surreal. Every moment near Jax had been a fantasy.
Our lives were so far apart. He was the billionaire investor, and I was the woman who slept in her studio because she had nowhere else to go. And no, Veronica’s place wasn’t an option. She had a six-year-old daughter, and their little family didn’t need the upheaval of another mouth to feed, another person using up the water.
“It was what?” Veronica asked, and her tone had softened a little—always a good sign.
My bestie was protective at the best of times. She was five years younger than me, at twenty-five, but she was wise beyond her years. Probably had something to do with the single-mother thing.
If I envied anyone in the world, it was her.
She didn’t have a partner, but she had all the love a woman could need. The only type of love that was real. She had her little girl, Nessy, and that was all that mattered to her.
“Veronica, it was unbelievable. Indescribable.”
“Try describing it,” she said, “because I’m struggling to come to terms with how you wound up spending the night in some billionaire dude’s guest room. This is like Pretty Woman without the hooker subplot. Unless, is he…asking you for anything else?”
I rolled my eyes at her.
“I’m worried about you,” she said and strode barefoot across the boards. She halted beside me and dragged me into a hug. “I know you’ve been stressed about everything that’s going on here, but I just don’t understand why you’d go home with some strange dude. I’m not judging, everybody likes a little strange, but why not just go back to your apartment, I mean—” Ronny cut off and glared at me, raised one eyebrow. “Riley? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” I said and slipped out of her embrace. “Nothing you need to worry about.” I walked over to the corner where I’d placed my handbag and rifled through it, brought out my cell phone.
“Riley Robinson, you turn around this second and tell me what’s going on,” Veronica said, in the mom voice she used on Nessy. “Not once in the history of our entire friendship have you ever lied to me, and you’d better not start now.”
“I don’t want to burden you with my issues, Ron,” I said. “You’ve got your own drama to deal with.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” she commented, but she padded up to me again, grabbed me by the shoulders, and spun me around on the spot. “You know you could never be a burden to me. You were there for me during my darkest times, girl. You were my support. When Nessy’s father abandoned us, you –” She cut off and shook her blonde locks – the pain was still fresh for her. “Let me do the same thing for you. It’s only fair.”
“It’s not fair on you,” I said, but she blinked those big blue eyes at me, and I sighed.
“Ah! I’ve got you. That’s the ‘I give in’ sigh. Come on, let’s sit down and talk about it.” She released me and hurried to the pile of chairs in the corner, glancing at the clock as she did. We had fifteen minutes before classes started. Was it enough time to explain to her what’d actually happened?
“Come on,” she called and plonked down two plastic chairs. She patted the seat of one then took her own. “Spill, girl. You know you want to.”
I sat down and pressed my knuckles to my forehead. If I knew Ron, and I had known Ron since I’d moved out here seven years ago, she’d totally freak about this. She was big on ‘doing’ for family, and she considered me that.
“OK, so you already know about the plan,” I said and pointed at her.
“The baby plan.” Veronica nodded. She’d been super supportive when I’d told her that I wanted to take matters into my own hands, have a baby of my own since Mike had left me four months ago.
I’d craved motherhood for years, I’d begged Mike for a baby after our engagement, and he’d flat out told me no.
“What about it?” Ron asked. “You’ve decided not to go through with it? And what does this have to do with this Jax guy? Oh god, you’re not thinking of having his kid, are you? Like some weird donor deal or—”
“No, I’m not. There’s no need to get all screechy.” I inserted my pinkie into my ear and wriggled it around. “I don’t want a father involved, you know that.” The baby would be mine and mine alone. This was why artificial insemination was the best possible plan.
“All right then, what’s the problem?”
“Let’s just say, there’s been a hitch in the plan,” I replied and swallowed hard. “So, you know I put money away in my savings account for this, and that I’ve been trying to cut back on expenses so that I’ll be able to afford the ICI. So, it’s like $200 each time they do it, and there’s only a maximum of a thirty percent chance it will take.”
“OK? But you made concessions for that, right? You said you were going to save like $4,000 for this.”
“And I did,” I said. “But then things got tough.”
“Tough?”
I nodded and pressed my lips together. The tears didn’t come this time, thank god. I’d already come to terms with what’d happened. “The savings account has a limit of six withdrawals a month, and Mike had all the details for the account. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“He stole from you?!”
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s used all six withdrawals. There’s $2,000 left in the account, which is not enough for the insemination.”
“Well, you never know, it might take the first time around, and then you only end up spending $200.” Ron grabbed my knee and squeezed. “It’s going to be all right. And we’ll go to the cops and get Mike arrested. You can change the account details so he won’t be able to access it again.”
“I’ve done all of that already, and the cops can’t do much with him. He just disappeared. He took the money he did get and ran. But there’s more to this than that,” I said, and huffed a sigh to prepare myself for the next part. “The studio is losing money, not making it, and I can’t access any of my money until the end of the month thanks to Mike. I lost my apartment because I couldn’t pay the rent. I have probably $200 to my name right now, and I’ve been sleeping at the studio because of it. I technically own the studio, but I’m still paying the bank the last dregs of cash to settle the loan, so, um, yeah, if I don’t make a payment soon…”
Veronica gasped so sharply her chest shuddered.
Here it comes.
“The studio? Riley, why didn’t you tell me? Why?”
“I didn’t want to burden you. You’ve got a child to care for and a life to live. My problems are my own.”
“That’s not what you said when I found out I was pregnant,” she said and shook her head. She’d teared up a little.
Emotion caught in my throat, but I refused it. I’d cried enough as it was. Cried because I’d realized I couldn’t possibly and responsibly bring a baby into this world when I didn’t have a home and my business was failing.
There were plenty of celebs who’d had babies at thirty-eight or even forty-years-old. This was about independence. The truth was, I was alone in this.
I’d made my own mess when I’d trusted Mike, and I’d be damned if I let anyone else clean it up for me.
Somehow, I’d find a way to make this work, even if it meant staying with a devilishly handsome man, a guy who might crumble all the walls I’d built, to get back on my feet.
“Riley, let me help you,” Veronica said, softly. “Let me help you, please.”
“No, hon. These are my problems. I appreciate your emotional support, but I can’t accept financial or physical support from you, not when you’ve got Nessy in the first grade this year and all the added expenses with the car.”
“Riley—”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. You know, I’ve been through worse than this. I’ll get through. I just have to knuckle under and find a way to make this work. To drum up more excitement for the studio.” Which was tricky. Pole dancing was popular, but the supply more than met the demand in Miami. “This will be the break I need to find a new apartment, get my life in order, and start preparing for the baby.” Which was the opposite of what I wanted.
I’d been ready for a child for the past five years, and it just hadn’t happened. It was stifling having to wait longer, after I’d been so close.
Two months ago, the future had been a bright speck at the end of my dark tunnel. I’d been in the process of getting over Mike, and I’d come up with the plan, and the studio had been breaking even, at least. And now?
Ugh.
That was the best description for it.
Just ugh.
Veronica’s voice cracked. “I want to help you like you helped me.”
“I know,” I said. “Trust me when I say I’m not giving up on my plans. I’m not going to let go of any of my dreams, not the dancing or the baby. I’ll work it out.” Even though I’d have to choose. Paying the loan at the end of the month meant losing all the money I’d saved up for the baby plan. And that meant having to save for longer—but that was like pouring water into a bucket with a hole in the bottom.
I rose, and her hand fell from my knee. I smiled down at her. “Come on, you’ve got a dance class to teach, and so do I.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the women, in all shapes and sizes, who entered the hall chatting to one another, wearing their workout clothes.
“OK,” she said, then caught my hand. “Riley, just promise you won’t do anything you regret. I know what it’s like to be desperate and scared, OK? Promise me you’ll come to me before you make any rash decisions. Please.”
I squeezed her fingers. “I promise, hon. Thank you.” The words came out with strength I didn’t have inside. It cost a lot of energy to keep up the façade of control, of calm, in front of Veronica, but it was worth it.
She was a little sister to me and my sage all wrapped into one.
I grabbed my handbag then headed out of the studio room, down the hall, and into the next one. My students were already waiting—the Monday advanced class was small. Three women and one guy, Trevor, who always wore a magenta headband and a pair of high heels.
I smiled at them all. “Ready, guys?”
“Baby, I was born ready,” Trevor tittered.
I laughed at that and forced myself to feel the levity, then I made for the stereo in the corner. I put on my favorite Christina CD, strapped on my heels, stripped off my sweater, and took my position at the pole, one hand clasping the metal, the other free at my side.
It was time to lose myself again. To forget.
Even if it was just for an hour.
>>>Click here and get the rest of Her Baby Daddy<<<
Also By Emily Bishop
Her Baby Daddy
Redemption
Bad Duke
Taming Cupid
Protecting Rayne
Cuffing Her
Famous
Saving Scarlett
Untouchable
Wet Dreams
Bachelor’s Secret
Mr. Anything
Mr. Everything
A Note from Emily...
This is typically the part where I make up some boring lines about my life and dog and significant other. Let me just cut through the bullshit.
I want to help you by providing the best romance ON PLANET EARTH, Muhuhuhu. Too much? Anyway, I’m serious. My goal is to entertain you. I want to make you cry and laugh every time you read one of my books. I want you to be able to escape all the bullshit you’re dealing with and just relax for a few hours. I also would love to hear what you want me to write about. So, if you want me to write about something, email me and let me see if I can write a story just for you.
I mean this from the bottom of my heart. I hope you have fun today.
Love, Em
Drop me a line!
[email protected]
