Billionaire's Single Mom

I had loved music since I was a kid. I had put everything I had into Remus, writing my best songs, giving up years of my life just to make sure we got somewhere. But then we did, and what the fuck had it been for? Money?

Remus was supposed to make me happy. Waking up every day to make music was supposed to make me happy, and all it had done was get me on a plane here trying to escape it all. I couldn't believe it, but Keno had been right. I was still trying to plan for something I could take because it was right in front of me.

I loved this place. I loved this tiny island where nobody knew who I was, and I loved this girl who helped me beat my addiction and was more beautiful inside and out than anyone I'd ever met in my life. I lived in a million-dollar condo in downtown LA, and I'd never been happier than I was right now in a beachfront hut with Abby. I'd spend the rest of my life

in this bed with her.

That was it. Why was I still looking? I had found it.

I slid out of the bed and pulled my underwear on before walking out onto the porch. Abby had a hell of a view. The morning was clear and sunny, and the beach had just a few people on it. I checked the time; LA was a couple hours ahead of here, but it was still early, sometime before nine.

Whatever. He was the one who wanted to hear from me, wasn't he? I dialed Wes Barry's number and waited for him to pick up.

"Nate, how are you?" he asked cheerfully. I smiled. I was about to ruin his day if he thought I had good news for him.

"Great. Listen. About that contract?" I said.

"Did you like what you saw?" he asked. Objectively, yeah. It was a good-looking contract. Lots of money, agency, freedom, everything I thought I wanted, which I would take if the trade wasn't so damn shitty.

"It's a pass, Wes. I can't take the deal." He was silent for a beat.

"What's wrong with the contract? We can negotiate if-"

"It's great. Really. I just don't want it."

"You sure, kid? An opportunity like this doesn't come along every day," he warned. A girl like Abby didn't either.

"I'm sure. Thanks again for the offer," I said, hanging up. The door creaked open behind me, and Abby came out to the porch. She was in a tank top and shorts – with no bra underneath, I couldn't help notice.

"Hey," I said holding my arm out. She walked into my embrace, hugging me.

"Hey. Is everything okay?" she asked looking up at me.

"It is now," I said smiling. I sat in one of the chairs and she sat on the other.

"Who was that?"

"Remember the producer who called me offering a contract last week?" I asked.

"I remember."

"I called to tell him I was turning down his offer."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. I told him I didn't want it."

"What are you going to do instead?"

"I guess I'm staying. Know anyone looking for a roommate?" I asked.

She beamed at me, crying and laughing and glowing with joy. In half a second, she was out of her seat and on top of me, and both of us were on the floor. She kissed me, pinning me between her and the floor of the porch. I laughed, stroking her hair. Best decision I had ever made.

"Are you sure?" she asked, sitting up on my lap.

"I'm positive."

"What about your life in LA?"