Billionaire's Baby Contract (Hawthorne Brothers 1)

“Why?” Jess asks me. “Why are you leaving?”

“Because…”

I stop talking because tears sting my eyes again. This time, I can’t stop them. They just fall down my cheeks.

“Oh.” Jess wraps her arms around me and I sob on her shoulder.

I don’t understand. I’ve already cried so much and yet I’m crying again. Even harder this time. I can feel myself trembling. My chest just hurts. And it seems the only way to ease the pain is to let my tears out.

So that’s what I do. I cry until I can’t cry anymore. Afterwards, Randy hands me a box of tissues.

“Thank you,” I tell him before blowing my nose. Then I turn to Jess. “I’m sorry I got your sweater wet.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’m more worried about you.”

“Me too,” Randy says. “Is all this because of Ethan? Did something happen in Switzerland?”

I tell them. I tell them everything. When I’m done, they both give me a hug.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Jess strokes my hair.

“Ethan’s a jerk,” Randy says. “And to think I had a crush on him.”

I grin. “I’m the biggest fool, though.”

Jess squeezes my hand. “I wish I could convince you to stay. I hate to think that you’re leaving just when I’ve started to get to know you.”

“Me too,” I tell her.

“But I know you have to go. I’d do the same thing.”

“Where are you going?” Randy asks me.

I draw a deep breath. “Home.”

~

The fog greets me as soon as I come out of the airport in Seattle. I smile because it feels like a hug from the city, welcoming me back.

I drop my things at a hotel and grab a cup of coffee. I sip it as I reminisce inside the cab headed to the house where my parents and I used to live.

So many memories.

Even more of them come flooding back once I’m standing in front of the two-story house I know so well. It looks the same as when I left it. Dark blue roof. Pale blue walls. White door. White windows. White porch. The sign on the front says it’s still for sale, so I guess no one has lived in it since I last did.

I walk up to the front door. It’s locked, of course. I peek through the window. All I see are pieces of furniture covered in white cloth, which in turn is covered in dust. Even hidden, I can recognize some of them, and I smile.

I go around the house to the backyard. I see the patch of soil where my mother’s garden used to be. Only weeds grow in it now. I also see her box of gardening tools right next to Arthur’s old doghouse. I remember we buried his ashes under it.

I remember something else buried in the backyard, too – an old pink music box which my parents gave me. I cried when it broke but I continued to treasure it. Then one day, I just outgrew it. My mother suggested that I throw it away, but I decided to bury it instead, like a time capsule. I remember I put some other things in it, too.

Why did I forget about it until now?

I dig it up using my mom’s old tools, thinking maybe it will help me rediscover who I am or give me some clue about what I should do next. The task takes me half an hour and tires me out, but all my exhaustion vanishes when I see the box. It’s dirty but still intact.

I decide to bring it with me to the hotel to go through its contents there. After all, it looks like it’s going to rain soon. I start to cover the hole, but an idea occurs to me.

There’s something else I want to bury. My past.

Of course I can’t do that literally, but I can bury my journal, and I realize I want to. I don’t think I can write in it anymore anyway, not after knowing all the trouble it’s caused.

I press it to my chest one last time and then place it in the hole. I cover it with soil. I’ve just finished when it starts to rain.

I savor the shower of rain for a moment, just because I’ve missed it, but when it starts to turn into a downpour, I run to the front of the house. I take shelter on the porch and walk over to the old rocking chair so I can sit in it while I wait for the rain to stop.

At least, that’s my plan. But after taking another step, I suddenly feel dizzy. I hold on to the railing to keep myself from falling, but my knees are too weak. I find myself sinking to the floor anyway.

As my eyes close, I listen to the sound of the rain. It reminds me of the time I shared an umbrella with Ethan in Zurich.