Billionaire's Second Chance

“Yeah, and having this connection. I basically sounded like Noah. That’s all shit that Noah has said to me before, and I thought he sounded crazy. That he’s obviously imagining all this stuff, because there’s no connection there. And that’s exactly what I’m doing with Ian!”

It was really rather disconcerting to realize this. But I felt so burned by this thing with Ian because I thought that there was something special between us—that’s what my feelings had been telling me, anyway. Really, though, how did that make me any better than Noah?

“Well,” Caroline said, squinting, “It’s a little different. Not that I’m encouraging you and Ian or anything, but you guys did sleep together. There’s no doubt in my mind that he finds you attractive and enjoyed being with you. Whereas you never slept with Noah.”

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was close enough. Close enough to make me realize how unreliable feelings could be.

“Do you think you’re going to talk to him about it?” Caroline asked.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to talk about it. Really, I’d just like to forget the whole thing.”

“Isn’t that going to be kind of hard if you’re still working for him? Or are you going to quit?”

“I’ve got to keep working there for now. It was hard enough to get this job as it was, and I don’t want to quit until I at least have something else lined up. So maybe I’ll start looking. I don’t know,” I said, putting my elbows on the table and leaning my face into my hands. Maybe I was being a little dramatic, but I just felt so confused by everything. It probably would be impossible for me to find another apartment I could afford, unless I got roommates. What if I just saved up a bunch of money and then moved? Have a fresh start. A new life. There’d be no Noah, no Ian, no hair salon that unjustly fired me. It would be a clean slate, and hopefully things would go better there than they had here.

I could just imagine what my mother would say about all of this.

Chapter Nineteen

Ian

Annie lived near Fenway in a three-bedroom apartment with a couple roommates who I hoped would not be home when I got there. The place seemed quiet enough when Annie met me; she came to the door wearing a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, which was surprising. I had expected her to be in her usual tight top and short skirt, but she seemed subdued, or maybe tired.

“Hey,” she said. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Sure,” I said. I was about to add Let’s get this over as quickly as possible, but stopped myself at the last minute. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

“Come on in,” she said, motioning for me to follow her down the short hallway to the common area, where there were some futons, a flat screen TV, a coffee table with a bong on it. “Don’t worry, I’m not smoking,” she said when she saw me eyeing the thing. “I stopped as soon as I found out.”

“So you probably were smoking then when you were pregnant; you just didn’t realize it yet.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Like I said: I stopped as soon as I found out. It’s still very early. The doctor says I’m six weeks along.”

“You’ve been to the doctor?”

“Of course I have! I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I had this cold that I couldn’t shake, and that’s strange for me, because I’m usually so healthy. I was exhausted and felt like shit. It didn’t seem to get any worse or better though; it just sort of stayed the same. I thought maybe I had mono or Lyme disease. Trust me, Ian, I was just as surprised as you were to find out. This isn’t something I planned.”

“So isn’t that what Planned Parenthood is for? Actually planning for parenthood?”

“You don’t want to sit down?”

“Standing is fine.”

She sat. “Whatever you want. If you’re trying to suggest I get an abortion, I told you—I’m not doing that. Nothing you say is going to change my mind about it. I’d like it if we could be adults, though. I want us to get along, at least for our child’s sake.”

I felt my balls shrink just at the mention of our child. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Maybe I will sit,” I said. I sat down, but immediately started tapping my foot. I tried to stop that, and my fingers started to tingle, like I needed to start gnawing at my cuticles or else. I refrained from doing so, but the exertion made my intestines twist. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead that I hoped wasn’t visible. “What is it that you would like to do? I mean, aside from having the baby.”

“Would you like to hear my ideal situation, or what I know will probably be closer to reality?”

“Let’s stick with reality.”

“Okay. Well, I’d like it if we could get along the best we can. I’d like us to co-parent, not parallel parent.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means that we’re both involved in the child’s life, that we communicate with each other, that we might even do things together, even though we’re living apart. You know, school events, extracurricular activities, birthday parties—”