Always My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance

“Does she always call at ten o’clock on a Saturday night?”

Wanting to pick up where we left off, I wave my hand in the air, ready to casually dismiss his concern.

Wait. No, she doesn’t. In fact, she and Tom are early risers and I never hear from her past nine at night. And she knows I’m on a date tonight. She wouldn’t call unless…

I shake my head. “She doesn’t.”

“Get it then.”

Why is she calling me? I hop up from the bed, breasts jiggling as I streak naked across the room.

I slip my dress on over my head. Grab my phone from my purse. I’ve missed the call.

I call her back with shaky fingers. She picks up on the first ring. “Miranda.”

“What’s wrong? Are you guys okay?”

Her voice is small, tight. “It’s mom. She just called me from her house. She was asking me what time dad is going to be home.” Ugh. When Lexi called me yesterday, she mentioned she’d been visiting my mom lately, but I was so wound up with everything I forgot to ask more about it.

My heart sinks. Our father passed away years ago. I think what we’re both not saying: early onset Alzheimer's. Her mother, our grandmother had it. We’ve been terrified this day would come.

I’m acutely aware of his gaze. “Lexi. You said you’ve been visiting her a lot lately. Have you been worried? Has this kind of thing been happening a lot?”

“Yes. One night, Marcy from next door called me. Mom was wandering the streets in her nightgown. She was looking for Tabby.”

Tabby. The cat we’d lost ten years ago to a car speeding through our neighborhood. The news is heavy. Weighing me down. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. You work so hard; you help with my wedding bills. I don’t work. I figured this could be my one job. The one way I could do something for both of us, so you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“You know this is bigger than you, Lexi. It’s bigger than us. We’re going to need to get her help. Real help.”

She heaves a choked sigh. I just want to hug her. “I know that now. It really scared me when she called me and I just couldn’t… couldn’t get her to understand…”

“That he’s gone?”

“Yes. It was so painful. It was like losing him all over again. I’m heading over there now. I thought she was asleep, but I think she’s been getting up in the middle of the night and...” A muffled sob comes over the line.

She’s crying.

Lexi never cries. Even when she fell from a tree in our front yard and broke her arm, that little girl never shed a tear. Just turned white as a sheet and pursed her lips together all the way to the hospital.

There’s a gentle pressure on my arm. Gabriel. His eyes are kind, concerned.

I tell him. “She’s crying. And I’m not there with her. I need to go to her.”

Without a second of hesitation, he gives me a nod. “We’ll go. Tonight. I can take you.”

“How?”

“I have my ways. Tell her you’ll be there by midnight.”

Midnight? We have to call the airport, book the ticket, if there even are any flights tonight. “There’s no way.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder. Firm. Warm. Grounding. “Trust me.”

And I do. I have to. I have to get to Lexi.Chapter SevenGabrielI make a few calls while she finishes dressing, my mind focused on getting her to where she needs to go. I suppose a part of her wonders why it matters to me that we take care of her needs right now. And I suppose a part of her will eventually wonder when the other shoe drops, if this is for real.

But this is very real. I’ve wanted Miranda Montague for so long, taking care of her is natural and easy. My only concern is that when she realizes just exactly how committed I am, she’ll fly like a bird with an open cage.

“Get the jet ready,” I tell Shane. “Twenty minutes.”

Miranda listens wordlessly while I order my private jet, have clothes brought for her, and a few other things we’ll need for the trip.

“You have a photo shoot in the morning, Gabe.”

I glance at my watch and do a quick mental calculation. “Cancel it.”

“You sure about that?”

“You’re awfully mouthy for an assistant. Do it.”

He grumbles, but does what I say.

Half an hour later, we’ve boarded the jet, and we’re on our way to her hometown. My staff leaves me and Miranda alone, my bodyguard up front with the flight attendant and pilot.

“Okay, so this jet is a-maz-ing,” she says in a singsong voice. I smile at her as she takes it all in. There’s a small but well-stocked bar, luxuriously comfortable armchairs, and to the left, a desk and charging station. Behind us, the door to my bedroom’s still open, giving us a peek at the bed. It’s meticulously clean and well-appointed.