Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Then, I took my child and moved back to my old neighborhood in Minnesota, and into a cottage paid for by Nick, of course. I wasn’t asking for much, but when a wealthy man is your babydaddy, he’ll make sure his child has everything he needs. As a result, the cottage isn’t really a cottage. It’s three bedrooms with a nice-sized living area, a dining room, and a dedicated nursing room which I can later convert into a playroom for Marty. There’s a gorgeous kitchen with top-of-the-line appliances, and of course, a giant yard for my son to play in that I’ve outfitted with a baby slide and rudimentary swing. Everything’s covered in snow right now, but that’s okay. When it warms up again, Marty will be let into the backyard, and I can already anticipate my son’s squeals of joy as he comes down the metal slide, little hands waving.
So this is my life now, and I’m happy being back in Minnesota with my child. Occasionally, there’s a pang of hurt in my heart because it would be so nice to be back with Nick at my side. Sometimes I allow myself to dream that we’re a real couple, and that I have a doting husband looking over my shoulder as we coo down into the happy face of our child together. Sometimes, I pretend that the interlude in New York never happened, and that Nick is just an everyday, ordinary dude, whom I love with all my heart, and with whom I created our wonderful family together.
But that’s about as far from reality as you can get because Nick doesn’t live in the cottage with us, nor am I his girlfriend or wife. Nor is Marty his only child. I read in the papers a while back that Hadassah’s child was born, and there were photos of Nick with her and the new baby. She’s pretty, to be sure, but the papers confirmed everything he told me about their relationship. Hadassah really is Nick’s employee at Rocket X, and the child was conceived via IVF. It was a transaction, albeit a baby transaction, which idea makes me shudder a bit.
But I guess that’s how life is these days. Science is changing everything, and a man can now have a child with a woman he respects, but doesn’t love (Hadassah), while simultaneously expecting a baby with a woman he knocked up accidentally (me). The two children can be born a month apart, and he can father potentially hundreds of babies with willing mothers who agree to undergo IVF. It’s a crazy hypothetical, and I still don’t know how I feel about reproductive technology. It’s as if we could populate the entire planet of Mars with the progeny of just one or two “supermen” and their concubines. Ugh.
But I’m here, and I’m happy and safe with my son. I smile at Marty as he reaches for a pretty red ornament on the tree, and then rush forwards when he begins to steer it to his mouth.
“No Marty,” I say, taking the candy cane from his hands as he stares at me with accusation in his eyes. “This isn’t a real candy cane. Do you want Mama to get you a real one to eat?”
But my baby doesn’t understand my words and bursts into tears because he can’t have the ornament. I swoop him up into my arms, hushing him as he buries his face against my neck.
“Shhh, baby, it’s okay,” I croon while rocking him a little. “You shouldn’t be eating so much candy anyways! I know it’s Christmas but Mama wants you to grow up big and strong, and sugar isn’t going to help you grow.”
Marty’s sobs only become louder, almost drowning out the sound of the doorbell. I squint, still rocking my son, while striding to the front door. Who could it be? It’s Christmas Eve, for crying out loud, so who would stop by? Balancing my bawling child awkwardly in one arm, I reach forward to yank open the door, only to see Nick standing there, with his arms full of presents, as tall and handsome as ever.
“Merry Christmas, Ella,” he growls, his blue eyes flaring as he takes in the sight of me holding his son. “Can I come in?”
The connection between us is as intense as ever, and my knees buckle a bit as my heart goes into overdrive. Oh my god, I must look like such a mess with my blonde hair in an untidy bun and my ugly Christmas sweater on, not to mention my red and green striped knee socks. But it’s snowing outside, and I can’t really slam the door in his face. At least not on Christmas Eve. So I step aside, still clutching my baby son, and allow the huge alpha male to enter our small cottage. But what’s going to happen next? Will Nick deliver his presents and then leave, gone once again? Or does the billionaire have more in mind ... making this the happiest holiday of all?