The Boss Baby Daddy (A Secret Baby Romance)

by Claire Adams

  I grabbed the intercom and croaked an order to room service. Getting up, I got my phone again and started searching for Shelby's number.

  Wait a minute; what are you doing, I thought. You can't call her like this. Besides, dumbass, she's at work; she isn't going to pick up. I put it down and walked over to the bathroom instead.

  I stripped and stood under the shower, easing the water from hot to cold to help wake me up. I felt like I had been run over by a truck: not the best thing I could have done after the blow up with Shelby. I'd have to talk to her again, but first, I had to stop doing this shit. Lake was right. I should have said something to her. This was what happened when I made decisions without her; she left my fucking ass.

  Back to square one, I guess. I knew I could do it, take a second before I did things and just think a little about how she would feel. Slow down, treat her like I wanted her around for the long haul. I'd get better. I wanted to. I didn't want another fight like the one we had had last night. I didn't want her walking away from me, again. I hated not knowing whether I'd see her or Damien again.

  I'd get her back. She'd be asking me to come back to her once I was done. It wasn't all for nothing. Coming here had been the right decision. I was getting her back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Shelby

  "Ready to go, bub?" I said to Damien. I picked him up and my purse in the other hand, walking us to the dining room. I put him down briefly in his baby swing and rushed to the kitchen to grab something before I walked out. I opened the fridge and poured myself a glass of orange juice, drinking it down fast. I could have coffee at the office and wasn't that hungry anyway. Skipping breakfast was a bad habit, but I’d survive that. I didn’t want to be late for work. I thought about grabbing an apple or something, but my phone ringing from my purse distracted me. I walked out of the kitchen, back to the living room where Damien sat happily in his swing.

  "Who's calling us, bub?" I asked, getting the phone out of my purse. I frowned, seeing Trisha's number. Really? Right now? She was one of the few people from WRTC who I kept up with since leaving New York. She must have been at work; why was she calling me? We caught up with phone and Skype calls from time to time, but we usually scheduled them for the weekends or evenings when both of us had time. I picked up.

  "Trish?"

  "Oh my god, you're awake," she said, relieved.

  "Yeah, it's a Friday morning. I'm on my way to work. What's up?"

  "I wanted to warn you before you saw it yourself."

  "What? Saw what myself?" I asked, eyebrows raising. Was she giving me the scoop on a news item or something? She sounded frantic, panicky almost.

  "It's about Jason."

  "Trish, slow down," I said.

  "I sent you a link to a story about him. I figured you'd end up seeing it eventually and I wanted to warn you." She knew about the recent drama. The day after the Christmas party, she had called me to ask why I had ended up leaving so early. I had told her what had happened with Jason. She had kept the secret about the two of us without me even having to ask her to do it. I had told her that we were seeing each other again, but she hadn't heard about the incident from last night yet.

  "A link to a story? What the hell are you talking about, Trish?"

  "Jason was out last night. There were some pictures taken and they... they don't look good, Shel. I'm sorry."

  "Out? He was with me last night," I said.

  "Were you at a club together?" she asked. A club? That was where he went after I had left? To drown his sorrows and give himself alcohol poisoning. Typical. Why had I thought that he had changed? How had he gotten this shit past me?

  "No. We just had dinner. He must have gone to the club after. It was... we kind of had a fight. I'll tell you about it later. I have to head out to work right now."

  "It must have been some fight," she said. "I just wanted to warn you. It's not good. I know he's been different lately, but... just watch out."

  "How bad could it be? It's Jason Bowman; the bar is already pretty low.” I appreciated what she was trying to do. If she had gone through the trouble of calling me, it was probably something I wouldn't like. But then, what about last night? We were already on pretty bad terms, Jason and I. What could he have possibly done? Embarrassed himself by getting too drunk? Had he been arrested? DUI or something? Now I was curious. After getting off the phone with Trish, I followed the link that she had sent me on the way out of the house with Damien.

  It went to a weird gossip site. I didn't recognize the names of a lot of the people who the related articles were talking about. What kind of site was this? Not a very good one, I thought. I looked at the story. Jason Bowman parties in L.A. a week after quitting WRTC. I frowned, buckling my seatbelt. He had gone somewhere after the dinner. Of course, he had, Shelby; what did you think? He'd just go back to his hotel and sulk? I hadn't stayed around to see where he had gone, so I didn't know what to think.

  Have you ever seen someone have this much fun unemployed? If only we could all live like Jason Bowman. Most of us would be making our way to the unemployment line if we quit a job like Jason's, but let's face it: he's Jason Bowman. There you have it, guys; you don't need a job to get girls, you just have to be Jason Bowman, the article said. I rolled my eyes noticing they had a typo on the first line. Journalism be damned. It claimed to have pictures after the break if I expanded the article.

  "Whatever," I muttered, putting my phone and starting my car. Who cares? He can do what he wants. You're supposed to be mad at him anyway. The entire way to work, I tried not to think about Jason, but it didn't work. See, if Trish hadn't told me anything... no, it wasn't her fault. She had nothing to do with this. This wasn't even her problem; she hadn't been the one dumb enough to let Jason Bowman bang her in a control room. Everything led back to that night. I would go back. If I could still somehow have had my baby and made it out here to L.A., I would go back and stop myself from ever letting Jason touch me.

  I did my best to focus at work, writing and through my meetings, but it wasn't enough. Jason had this habit of being at the edge of my thoughts constantly. Trying as hard as I was to keep him away felt like it was just making it worse. By lunch, I was about ready to look at the pictures on the article that Trish had sent me. Did I really want to know, though? I would just end up getting mad for nothing.

  "Hey, not heading out today?"

  I looked up from my computer. Janice was a writer. She and I had gotten to know each other because she dropped her eight-month-old twins at the daycare every day too. We had bonded over the new mom thing and had eaten together a few times, one of us heading out to grab sandwiches or something and the two of us eating with our kids in the daycare. I told her that no, I wasn't heading out that lunch break.

  "Should I bring you something back?" she asked.

  "No, don't. Not really hungry," I said.

  "You sure?" she offered, trying to entice me.

  "Actually, if it's not too much trouble, could you pick a magazine up for me?"

  "Magazine? Sure, which one?"

  "Like a Star... or Enquirer?" I said. She frowned.

  "A tabloid?" she accused.

  "Good journalism can be found anywhere," I said. She looked at me like she wasn't convinced but said she'd grab me something if she found one. Tabloid magazines weren't really authorities on the news, but there was usually some truth in even the most fraudulent article. If there was something about Jason, that was where I believed I would find it. Between the site and a magazine, I was going with the tabloid.

  I spent most of lunch down at the daycare with Damien. Resisting another look at the website Trish had sent me the link to had been difficult. I was being pulled in two different directions; I wanted and didn't want to look at these photographs of Jason apparently living his best life after quitting WRTC. Sitting back at my desk, I braced myself. This is Jason we’re talking about here, I reminded myself; whatever happened, I knew wouldn't make me happy. Janice dropped the
magazine off at my desk when she came back in from lunch.

  "Here you go," she said cheerily, walking away. "You wouldn't believe which A-list male actor has a gambling problem," she teased. I thanked her for getting it for me, settling down to see whether there was anything about Jason in it. I didn't even have to turn the first page.

  Right on the cover was a picture of Jason, sandwiched between two women who looked like they hadn't graduated college yet. He wasn't sandwiched really because one of them was perched on his lap, cheesing for the camera while the other had a possessive grip on his arm. Disgraced News Anchor Drinks His Way to Early Retirement, the headline said. I slammed the magazine onto my desk, releasing the increasingly tight hold my fingers had had on it.

  Oh, so that was where he had gone after dinner. This was what Trish hadn't wanted me to see. My hand shook as I opened the magazine and searched for the story. It was more picture than article, but there it all was. Jason had gone on a bender after I had walked out on dinner. Hadn't that been what he had done after I had left the Christmas party that time? Trish had told me that he had ended up getting trashed, so this was just normal for him. This was him. Most people I afforded the right to be multidimensional, but him? There wasn't a part of him that knew better or wanted to change. There wasn't one that was more mature than going out and getting shit-faced with two women who looked like they had been carded before being allowed into that club.

  We were supposed to be working on things. Was this the way he thought that was going to happen? By throwing his dick out to every willing slut he encountered when the two of us disagreed? I was getting angry. The women weren't at fault here; he was. They had just been available. Fuck, I thought, closing the magazine and putting it face down on my desk so I didn't have to look at him anymore. That was the man you let impregnate you. How was that for a scandal Damien could learn about his dad when he was ten? You just had to believe him, didn't you? Actions speak louder than words though, and he was making the worst moves possible. I couldn't believe I had fallen for his act.

  The rest of the day went by without me; I was too pissed to concentrate, my mind kept wandering to Jason and how the hell I had been so stupid. Leaving at the end of the day and getting Damien from the daycare finally gave me something to focus on. Good thing it was a Friday. I drove us home, changing and feeding him when we got there. I was burping him when my phone rang. It was right on the couch next to me but both my hands were occupied. Finishing with Damien, I reached for it, seeing who I had to call back.

  I laughed reading Jason's name. Picking Damien up, I walked us to his nursery, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder while I used my free hand to open his dresser drawers.

  "Hello?" I finally heard down the line.

  "Hey, Mom?"

  "Shelby, it's been so long since you called. How are you?"

  "Mom, we talked just last week."

  "But you didn't come home for Christmas. How am I supposed to know how you're doing?" she complained. My mother and I had gotten closer since I had moved to L.A. It didn't matter how often I called her; she always made it a point to tell me how long it had been since the last time.

  "You're right," I said giving in, pulling a couple onesies out of a drawer. "You and Frank aren't busy this weekend, are you?"

  "Frank's on a trip but no, not really. Why?"

  "Can we come stay for the weekend? Me and Damien? Just till Sunday afternoon?" I asked.

  "Is something wrong, Shelby?" she asked. Nothing that I wanted to tell her now over the phone. I knew that if we were together at her place then she would probably get it out of me somehow but I'd wait till that happened. I was just angry. I wanted to get away from the place where I knew Jason also was. There was only so far I could travel to get away from him but everything inside me was begging me to run. I just needed a couple days. After that, I felt like I'd be able to face him again. I knew he wouldn't let me get away, not really. Not without a fight. I'd be ready for it if I got these couple days to feel completely free of him.

  "I didn't make it over Christmas," I tried to say lightly. "I want to see you guys." My mother threw me a bone and acted like that explanation was enough for her. I knew I wasn't coming back to L.A. without spilling my guts first. Once I got out of L.A., I'd be happy to do it, as long as I wasn't dealing directly or indirectly with Jason till I was ready.

  My mom and Frank's place in Napa was right on the water because Frank fished. I hadn't spent much time there, just a few days to a week for Christmas, Fourth of July, or Thanksgiving, but when I would, Frank would let me go out on the water with him. They had an incredible view of the lake from their backyard and deck. I walked outside with two drinks, seeing my mom and Damien out on the grass. He was sitting, splashing happily in a little paddling pool my mom had gotten him when he had been born. She had kept it since I had nowhere to use it back at my apartment in L.A. I smiled watching them.

  "Do you think it's getting too hot?" I called to my mom. Damien had a hat on his head, and we'd basted him in sunscreen. He had been out for about twenty minutes though so it was better to be safe than risk anything. It was late afternoon, the sun was still up but not as hot or high as it had been earlier in the day. Napa didn’t get as hot as L.A., but I didn’t want to take chances. Together, we moved the pool under the shade of a tree. I handed her her drink and sat with her on the grass, by the pool.

  "Feeling better?" she asked me. I had been napping for the past hour, something I never had the luxury to do anymore. I nodded, grateful that she had been okay with watching Damien as I took a break. My phone vibrated in the pocket of the shorts I was wearing. I took it out and silenced it. First one of the day from Jason. I had hoped that after I had ignored every single one of them yesterday that he'd get the clue and stop trying, but he had just sent text messages instead. I'd probably have more the rest of the weekend.

  "You're still not talking to him?" she asked.

  "No."

  "That's not a call you should make when you're upset," she said gently. Great, so how about he left me alone so I could stop being upset? With a cooler head, maybe I would want to talk to him. Right then, I was in Napa with my mother and baby, watching the sun go down over a fucking lake. The pictures of him and those women were burned permanently in my memory. I had been second guessing every time that I had looked at him and felt admiration, even affection. I wasn’t ready yet. Talking to him was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jason

  Her phone was ringing; I could hear it. She just wasn't picking up. I sighed, tossing my phone on the bed next to me. I got up, kicking a balled up wad of paper on my way to the chair that sat near the windows. The room looked like I had been living in it for months, not just the past few days. I hadn't had housekeeping come through, and it was getting out of hand. The floor was covered in crumpled copies of magazines. Tabloids. I hadn't even known that there were so many different tabloid publications. The pictures had spread like wildfire, and it looked like everyone had published them.

  It wasn't just in print; they were all over the internet too. I ran my own social media, and it had been a total shit show. The women, I had had to learn their names from the stories because I hadn't remembered them from that night, Gabby and Chelsea, they had been milking the fuck out of their fifteen minutes. They were both aspiring models or something so, great for them. At least someone was getting something out of this.

  She had seen them; there was no way at this point that she hadn't. Once something was on the internet, there was no way of getting it off. None. And the magazines? I knew that Shelby didn't read that trash, but she did go to the store. All she would have had to do was leave the house, and she would have seen one. It was like they were everywhere, I didn't even know how the hell they were in production at all since so many blogs ran the same content.

  It didn't matter; the damage was already done. I had had shit written about me in the past but nothing like this. I had bee
n smart enough not to get caught in the past. Lake had been using the connections he had to try to get different places to print follow-ups saying I didn't know who the girls were. The stories had said all sorts of shit. Since there hadn't been much story to the pictures, people had taken the liberty of making up their own. All it had been was me and the two girls. They had seen me earlier with Lake, and they had been hard to get rid of. That had been it. After getting trashed, I had gotten back to the hotel, and I had woken up in that bed, alone. I had been drunk, but not drunk enough to bang those women.

  Yeah, where the hell was Shelby so I could tell her that? Right, she wasn't picking her motherfucking phone up. I had gone to her apartment and rang the bell for five minutes straight; she hadn't been home. She had fucking disappeared. I knew that I had fucked up and that she had been mad when she had walked out of dinner, but she hadn't been this level mad. Not ignore-me-for-an-entire-weekend mad. I didn't get it. How the hell could she walk out on me like she did and not even let me explain myself? You know what? If she hadn't done that, then I never would have ended up at that club with Lake. I wouldn't have met Gabby and Chelsea, and we wouldn't be in this mess right now. None of it.

  I was fucking furious. Why wasn't I getting anything from her? If she wanted to ignore me, whatever, a lot of women did that shit, but like this? She wasn't even at her house; she had left her place to get away from me. That fucking stung. I wanted her to do something, call me just so she could call me a son of a bitch to my face. I didn't want this. This shit meant she didn't give a fuck. Instead of talking to me first, she had skipped that step and decided to dump me.

  Shit, why not? Everyone else had. I had tried to talk to Victoria on Friday to ask for a recommendation. The bitch laughed. She had laughed and hung up. Apparently, she had seen the pictures; she was how I had found out that they were out there. I had my computer on my lap; I hadn't shut it down since I had last sat down to use it. There were several browser tabs open, most of them showing apartments for rent in the area. I had started my search in New York, and I don't know, maybe it had been the optimism everyone tended to have at the beginning of things before shit started getting hard. I had thought that New York was overpopulated, but L.A. was a damn close second.