Scoring the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 3)

Oh, no… Another contraction…

“Oh, holy fuck! Holy fuck! Holy fuck! I need to push! I need to push!”

Thatch didn’t hesitate for a second and took each of his wife’s cheeks in his hands and locked his eyes with hers, forcing Cassie’s focus to him. “You got this, honey. You’re the strongest woman I know. You can do it, baby. But you need to wait to push until the doctor gets in the room. Just breathe… There you go… Just breathe… You’re doing so good, honey. I’m so proud of you.” He coached her and encouraged her and just loved her in the softest, most tender voice and then kissed her forehead gently once the contraction had slowly past.

I walked over to a tearful Georgia and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go wait in the waiting room. I think this needs to be their special moment.”

Well, special and very painful for Cassie moment.

Georgia nodded and wiped a rogue tear from her cheek.

A few minutes later, we were sitting in the waiting room, watching the two smartest people in the hospital, Lexi and Kline, play a game of chess on her iPad.

They were both in deep thought regarding their next moves, and I chanced a glance at Georgia. She sat quietly, watching her husband, with nothing but pure love in her eyes. It was obvious that a Brooks baby was going to be the next step for them. They had the suburban home, the SUV, and the dog and cat. Now, they just needed to make their family official with a little baby of their own.

“What?” Georgia asked once her eyes met mine.

I grinned. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but you’re thinking something.”

“I’m only thinking what you’re thinking about, and I’m really happy for you.”

She stared at me for a long moment and then smiled softly. “Thanks, Win.”

“Wes!” Lexi shouted and hopped up from her seat. She skipped toward him and jumped straight into his arms.

He wrapped her up tightly and held her for a whole lot longer than someone who didn’t want a kid should have. I hated that he was so blind to what he really wanted. It was so obvious in every little thing related to Wes and Lexi’s close relationship.

He would lasso the moon for my daughter if she asked him.

He would quite literally do anything for her.

Maybe it’s not Lexi that he doesn’t want; maybe he just doesn’t want me…

The mere thought of that smarted like a son of a bitch. I hated that this man had spurred insecure thoughts like that. After Nick and I had broken up, I’d promised myself I would never let a man make me feel like I wasn’t good enough.

And yet, there I was, letting the insecurities permeate my soul.

Wes set Lexi back on her little feet, and his eyes immediately sought out mine. I had no idea what he was thinking, not a fucking clue, but it looked like he was trying to give me a million words with one single look.

I averted my eyes in an obvious show of refusal. I didn’t want his words.

Fuck his words. His words meant shit to me.

At least, that was what I was going to keep telling myself.

If he wanted something from me, the only way he could prove it was by action. To show me that he was actually the man I had originally thought he was. Not the kind of man who ran when things got too intense, too real.

“What took you so long?” Kline asked Wes with a smirk.

“I was at a charity event, and traffic became a nightmare. You know how New York is, everyone trying to go in the same direction, yet no one really making any progress.”

I winced. I’d been at the same charity event and gotten here just fine. But I had a feeling he hadn’t gotten the news quite as soon as I had—and I hadn’t bothered to share.

Kline chuckled. “That’s exactly why I love living in the suburbs now.”

“Is it why you love driving the minivan, too?” Wes teased. His words sounded good, but his tone was completely off—halfhearted if I’d ever heard it. And I had. I’d been practicing the same goddamn thing all night.

Kline grinned anyway, too high on the happenings to dirty himself with Wes’s details. “Well, that, and the fact that Georgia loves how spacious the backseat is.”

“Kline!” Georgia chimed in.

“What, baby? You said you loved it that night—”

“Kline!” she said again and slashed a supposed-to-be-menacing finger across her throat.

He just laughed, visibly amused by his wife’s embarrassment.

The sound of the automatic doors that led to the labor and delivery ward caught our attention, and Thatch walked out with a giant grin on his face.

“Is he here?” Georgia asked excitedly.

Thatch nodded. “Ace Tobias Kelly is here.”

I grinned at the mere thought that Cassie had been teasing Thatch for her entire pregnancy with the name game, constantly pranking him with ridiculous names, and in the end, she named her son the one name Thatch had truly wanted from the start.

“Mom and baby doing good?” I asked.

He smiled proudly. “Mom and baby are perfect.”

“Congrats, man. I’m really happy for you.” Kline stood and wrapped Thatch up in a man hug, patting his back a few times.

We all followed suit, hugging Thatch and congratulating him on the birth of his son.

“How much did he weigh?” Georgia asked.

Thatch smiled proudly. “Nine pounds, ten ounces. Twenty-two inches long.”

Georgia’s eyes went wide. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Your wife just had a toddler,” Wes added with a chuckle.

“What can I say? Kelly men are big. Everywhere.” He added a wink to bring his point home.

“Really?” Kline asked with a smirk. “You’re really going there right now?”

“Yep,” Thatch answered without hesitation. “It’s the happiest fucking day of my life. My beautiful wife just gave me the best gift I’ve ever been given, without castrating me in the process, and my baby boy takes after his father.”

I was happy for Thatch and Cassie.

Scared to death of what the combination of the two of them would mean for the world, but happy for them. Really fucking happy for them. They were about the craziest two people ever to procreate, but seeing them with their new son put everything into perspective.

Undeniably, I wanted what they had. The easy affection and trust—the knowledge that one person would put you before nearly everything. And I wanted a family to call my own.

Of course, I’d gone and completely fucked that by thinking I wasn’t worthy of putting in that kind of effort. Like it was the same fate bestowed upon me rather than a conscious choice to do right by them—and by myself.

So here I was—post birth, staring into the window of the nursery at dozens of nameless babies and hoping beyond reason Winnie would stumble over to stare through the same window.

That she would somehow find it in her heart to forgive me all of my stupid choices and let me love her and Lex.

I wanted it so fucking badly I could hardly breathe, hardly think.

The tiniest sensation flared at my hand, warm skin on mine as a delicate, feminine version of it slipped solidly into its embrace.

I looked down my arm, gray suit fabric covering it blandly until the purple polish resting at the back of my hand made it come alive.

“Lex,” I said softly, and she lifted her head to look up at me.

“Babies’ fingernails are formed in the womb starting at week twelve of gestation,” she told me, and I smiled so big my cheeks hurt.

“Oh, yeah?” I asked, trying to steady my voice over the ache born of missing her so much.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a nod.

“I want to know how that’s possible,” I muttered in awe. In awe of the fact she’d shared with me, but even more in awe of her.

“Me too,” she agreed, and I knew she’d find out. Through Google or an encyclopedia—if she could find one—or asking the goddamn doctor herself. Her confidence shone the brightest in her thirst for knowledge. Whatever she needed to do to gain it, she’d do. It was all the other stuff that she struggled with—the interactions and small talk and culturally deigned importance that really wasn’t that important at all. Not if she didn’t need them to be.

“How many babies do you think were born today?” I asked her. I’d missed her brilliance and wanted just a little taste of how superiorly her mind worked.

“There are twenty-five babies in this nursery, a variable of probably ten in their rooms, about five thousand, six hundred hospitals in the US, so given the metropolis of New York versus the populous of small-town America, probably somewhere around eleven thousand. In the US.”

Hot damn. Am I right?

“I bet Thatch and Cassie’s baby is going to cause more trouble than the rest of them combined,” I remarked.

Her eyes held mine, a progression so significant it helped in my effort not to take offense to her looking at me like I was an absolute imbecile.

In her mind, my little statement was so statistically impossible it was laughable. That would be what embarrassed her about her parents—actual stupidity.

God, I had the urge to pick her up and hold her tightly to my chest.

I want to be one of her biggest embarrassments.

I wanted to be everything to this beautifully brilliant little girl. I wanted to be her father figure, one of the two biggest supporters in her life.