The Billionaire and I (Part Three) (3 page)

The door clicked shut behind Jacob, and I flipped the lights, then turned it down low. It wasn't dark enough that I couldn't see the worry lines that had taken hostage of his usually stoic features. I wasn't sure what was worse, knowing that something was wrong and hearing him say everything was okay, or knowing something was wrong and realizing I was completely helpless to do anything about it. The irony of that wasn’t lost on me: it was the hell that he’d been enduring since Cole and Brittany strolled into our lives.

I'd tried to hold his hand in the car, but he barely gripped my fingers. Anytime he got close to my belly, he'd jerk away like he hit some electric fence. Any conversation that approached what happened at the hospital was met with grunts and succinct answers. And now that we were home and he was barely looking at me, I knew I was in for more of the same.

I kicked off my shoes with a sigh, padding over to the island. I watched Jacob navigate to the wine cabinet, then pull out two glasses. I bit back a smile as he poured one for himself, then dished out a sip in the second one before he squeezed his eyes shut and remembered.

"No wine for me, thanks," I winked. I was just trying to lighten the mood. To be honest, a glass of wine would have been heaven with everything going on.

Jacob's icy exterior didn't melt at all. "I'm sorry. I should have known that."

"It's okay," I assured him, taking the Perrier he handed me instead and making a mental note to get enough ginger ale to last through the apocalypse. I'd thought the nauseous feeling was stress, but now that I knew I was pregnant, I kind of wanted an IV filled with Canada Dry. "It's going to take time to get adjusted."

Jacob just stared at his glass of wine. Mesmerized. "We don't have time to get adjusted, Leila. Less than nine months until the baby, we still haven't figured out how to deal with Rachel, and I just added to the scales with the confrontation back at the hospital." He crossed his arms like he was outside of himself, taking stock of his actions and he came up short. And just to really drill home the fact that he screwed up, he shook his head. "This isn't like anything we've faced. In past situations, there were clear steps that needed to be taken."

He didn't hash out our colored past, but my mind did, if only to distract myself from the nausea. When we first squared off with Rachel, I chose to play her game. She only backed down when Jacob and I were a united, unshakable team. Then there was Cade, and once I let him know that there would be no happily ever after starring us, he let go. My stomach churned when I thought about Brittany and Cole, but we got on the other side. Together.

It seemed so simple. So obvious.

I took a huge gulp of Perrier and circled the counter, stopping beside Jacob. I traced circles on the granite countertop, trying to figure out a way to reach out to him without seeming patronizing or like I was minimizing the pain he was going through.

"I kind of lost it today too,” I said softly.

I could tell from the way his grip on the countertop slackened that he was expecting me to say something else entirely. He didn’t say a word though, so I pressed on.

"I was at lunch with my mom and Megan. Well, I was eating lunch, my mom was nursing a coffee, and Megan was working up the courage to eat the apple pie," I clarified. "Almost as soon as I sat down they practically looked at each other and said, 'now!' and started asking me about baby names and telling me that screwing this up could set our child up for eternal failure."

Jacob looked over at me with a dark brow arched to the ceiling.

"I know," I winced. "Pretty crazy, huh? But that's the lens that I chose to see it out of. I could blame it on exhaustion and stress and fear, but it was really just a choice. I know my mother and Megan weren't trying to tell me that I was incapable of picking a good name for our baby. Or that I wasn't qualified to make such a decision on my own. They were just excited and trying to be helpful." My mom was significantly less helpful than Megan, but that was business as usual. "It's all about perspective, Jacob. And being grateful." He was finally looking at me. Listening. "We have so much to be grateful for."

Any sort of openness in his face hardened to stone. "Cole, Brittany, Rachel...I'm not listing off things I'm grateful for."

I made a sweeping motion around us. "How about this life we get to lead, crazy it is? The opportunities we have, the friends that stand by us, and yes—crazy ass family that makes us want to pull out our hair." I couldn't take the toxic energy that stifled my words. He was pulling me back into those memories, and if I went to that place, neither one of us would climb out of the darkness.

I went to the balcony, pulling open the French doors and letting the sunshine in. I stood in the warmth, letting my eyelids flutter shut and I waited.

Jacob was just as stubborn as I was; it would take him a little while longer to let go of his anger. To let go of control and see it from a different perspective. So I just looked out at the city. I left him at the counter and took a stroll down memory lane that wasn't filled with celebrities and his brother and all the negativity. I thought about the stairwell, when I was terrified and so freaking wet with excitement that I knew I'd do anything,
anything
if he would just touch me. Kiss me.

I ran my fingertips along the iron chaise that he'd strapped me to. Exposed me for the whole world to see. But now I understood that it was so much more than that. He wanted me to surrender, to go to a place where I was seen and I saw him.  We built a trust that went far beyond the bedroom. Something more powerful than I even had the words to describe. I felt it all around me, humming in the wind that whipped my T-shirt up and turned my hair into a curly cyclone that I didn't even try to weather.

I heard the chime of a camera snapping and I twisted d my head to the right, catching Jacob holding his phone, a smirk on his lips.

"You looked so beautiful," he explained. "I couldn't resist."

"As long as you give me a cut of the profits, we're good," I joked. I knew the last drama was still fresh, but his smirk became a full on smile instead of disappearing.

"I kind of lost it today too," he sighed. He dropped his phone on the chaise cushion and pulling me into his arms. "I probably should have just let it go. I'm no stranger to paparazzi and the way they pick at the bones." He tensed and I just wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tighter until I felt him relax.

I nuzzled my cheek against his chest. "Everyone has their breaking point. You reached yours. I just want you to know that I'm here." I inhaled his scent deep, breathing him in and exhaling. "I'll help you pick up the pieces."

He held me, and I knew he could feel it too. How the air changed. The love that was flowing all around us. The love that was growing inside me. "The whole ride home I was trying to figure out what happened. I was fine, all things considered, chatting with another dad to be in the hall." Jacob's eyes softened. "His wife had just given labor." He held up two fingers. "Twins. Two boys. And I saw that look on his face; like he would give anything, do anything to make sure they were safe and loved...and we had this instant connection. Because I knew that feeling. That fiercely protective energy. I felt it the minute I heard that you were pregnant." He spun me so my back was to him and I blushed when his hands dropped to my stomach.

I swayed back and forth, tilting my chin up, catching Jacob's eye, then settling on the clouds that floated above our heads. "We're embarking on this journey together and we're both terrified and under qualified...but I know that we're not going to ‘just be okay’. We're going to kick so much butt and be the best parents ever."

Jacob let out a belly laugh that gave me chills. It had been way too long since I heard that laugh.

"If our kid has your hopeless optimism, they'll definitely be set for life."

I twisted around to face him, linking my arms around his neck. "If we have a little girl I think she'll have your eyes, my smile, and so much spunk that she'll walk into a room and everyone will know instantly know not to fuck with her."

He stroked my cheek, resting his knuckles beneath my chin. "And if we have a son, I hope he has your hair, some perfect mixture of our eyes-"

"Your dimples," I added.

He nodded in agreement, his forehead scrunched like he was searching for that final, perfect attribute. "And my ability to glare just about anyone into submission."

"Just about anyone?" I repeated, sure he'd misspoke.

"I tried that with your mom back at the hospital,” he frowned. “Let's just say she's pretty much immune to the glare."

Laughter spilled out of my mouth, remembering the front row seat I had to the GlareDown, Whitmore v. Montgomery. "I saw the tail end of the fight. It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, but if I had to call it, I'd rule in your favor."

"Why's that?" he asked skeptically.

I took a step back and struck a pose, duck lips and all. "'Cuz you get
me
."

"I see my cockiness is rubbing off on you." His smile broadened as he pulled me back to him, his eyes caressing me, then his lips. "I love you."

I perked on my toes and brushed my lips against his. I’d always want, need one more kiss. "I love you too."

I
couldn't stop singing.

Every love song I'd ever heard played on non stop rotation in my head. Leila Whitmore, front and center, crooning into the microphone about happily ever after, thick and thin, and babies. I was kind enough to not subject anyone but me to my awful voice, since Jacob headed to the office and practically threatened to hire a security guard to keep me from sneaking to work. He sealed the deal by having my favorite breakfast cafe deliver stuffed French toast, fruit salad, and homemade sausage. When the crew member told me it was sugar free my face fell, until I scooped the first bite in my mouth.  I'd polished off the French toast, but I grabbed the bowl of fruit salad in one hand and scooped my laptop in the other. I agreed to take it easy for a few days, but there was no way I wasn't going to work from home.

I got halfway to the couch before I heard the buzz echoing from the entryway. Someone was requesting access to the apartment. I frowned, unloading the bowl on the lap tray and perching the laptop on the couch. Jacob had been joking about the security guard, right?
I swear if I see some burly dude in a suit and black shades, we're headed to Whitmore and Creighton so I can give him a piece of my mind...

I made my way back to the door, aimed toward the security console. I pressed the camera button and the screen switched to the live feed of the garage. I could only make out the top of the visitor's head, but I recognized her stature and the flaxen blonde strands immediately.

Jessa.

Her eyes perked to the camera and she held up a bouquet of multicolored flowers like an offering. Even though there was no audio, I heard her softly apologizing for disturbing me.

I buzzed her in, waiting by the elevator with a smile on my face. I’d sent out an email to the team letting them know I was taking a few days off for health reasons, but would be reachable by phone and email. I'd gotten back a flurry of 'feel better soon', standard replies as I'm sure they all quickly adapted and got back to their day.

When the elevator doors opened, Jessa timidly waited for further instructions, bouquet tucked across her body like a beauty queen.”

"Jessa!” I beamed. “What-"

"I know it's probably really unprofessional to just show up at your home, but it's just...you're the only real friend I have at Whitmore and Creighton and I know flowers make me feel better when I'm sick. Well, chicken noodle soup too, but I'm kind of dangerous in the kitchen. So I thought flowers would be a safer bet." She finally took a breath and thrust the flowers in my direction. She was still in the elevator and the doors were about to shut.

"Jessa, you can come in," I chuckled, beckoning her inside before the doors decapitated the flowers.

She squeezed out, just in the nick of time, practically hiding behind the bouquet until I gently eased it out of her hands.

"I'll put these in water." I started in the direction of the kitchen, but I stopped, not wanting one thing she shared to go unacknowledged. "This job is strange, huh? To be surrounded by so many people and yet..." A flash of sadness cut through me, remembering when I started. ‘Lonely’ didn't properly sum up how separate I felt from my co-workers, and when I started dating Jacob, an invisible line was drawn. It was us versus them, and I was a permanent member of the Them Team. As far as they were concerned, I'd slept my way to the top of the ladder and was married to the boss, so if I wasn't ignored altogether, then they tiptoed around me, worried if they set me off, their job would be on the line.

I shifted my attention back to Jessa, flickering over the lines that creased her forehead and her taut jawline. Natasha never said anything offhand to Jessa in my presence, but I wondered if she heard things when I wasn't around. Her reaction answered my question. "Don't you listen to a word they say."

She pursed her lips in the same defiant way as when she squared off with Rachel. "I don't."

I knew that party line well. I also knew that it was damn near impossible to not hear the whispers of self doubt and insecurity on a good day, and the whispers could become a shout on a bad one.

I knew that Jessa was ready for a subject change from the way she kept wiping her palms on her skirt, so I summed up what I was trying to say. "I'm here. If you ever need anyone to talk to." I lowered the flowers into the vase, grinning at her from behind the stems. "The flowers are beautiful. Thank you so much!"

"I wasn't sure what your favorite flowers were but I-" She caught herself, scrunching her nose in a way that made me picture her at eight, running around in pigtails, causing all kinds of ruckus. There was just something about it that screamed 'oops!' She met my gaze, blushing, but not shying away from me or my gratitude. "You're welcome, Mrs. Whitmore."