Page 194 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

My voice dissolves into sobs.

“Oh, honey. Slow down. Breathe,” Tatiana says, her voice a steady anchor in my storm. “JenTakahashi. What a vindictive little… well, never mind. Not surprising she’d pull something like this.”

“It’s so…graphic, Tati,” I tell her, pacing my tiny living room. “The details. It makes me feel sick. How can I spinthis? How can I work for him, pretend everything’s fine, when I know… when everyone knows…that?”

“Okay, first, the professional Sabrina,” Tatiana says, her tone becoming a little more brisk, the one she uses when she’s shifting into problem-solving mode. “The PR angle. Yes, it’s a shitstorm. But it’s also… old news, in a way. His past. His reputation was already ‘reckless billionaire playboy.’ This just adds… specifics. Ugly ones, sure. But is it fundamentally changing the core narrative you’ve been trying to build? Probably not. Maybe it even reinforces it, if you frame it as the ‘before’ he’s trying to leave behind.”

I sniffle, trying to process. “You think?”

“I think it’s spinnable, Sabrina. Hard. Messy. But not impossible. You’re the best. If anyone can navigate this, you can.” She pauses. “But that’s the professional side. What aboutyou, Sabrina? How areyoufeeling about all this? About Leo?”

“I… I told him I’m not sure I can stay on,” I confess. “I told him I needed to sleep on it, but… I don’t see how I can stay. It’s too much. Too complicated. Too… humiliating.”

“Humiliating how?” Tati asks gently.

“Because I actually… I actually started to believe him, Tati. Started to think maybe… maybe hewasdifferent. That we could be… something. And then this. It just reminds me that he’s… he’s Leo Maxwell. With a past longer and more sordid thana Senate hearing. How can I trust him? How can I build a life on that?”

“Okay,” Tatiana says softly. “So you’re scared. Scared he’s going to hurt you. Scared he’s going to revert. Scared he’s just like your father.”

“Yes!” I almost shout. “Isn’t that reason enough to run?”

“Maybe,” she concedes. “Or maybe… maybe you’re running from the possibility that heisn’tlike your father. That this time, itcouldbe different. And that’s even scarier, isn’t it? Letting yourself be vulnerable. Trusting someone that much, especially someone with Leo’s track record. But you said he just told you he retired from wingsuiting. For Mia. Forthe both of you. That’s what you always wanted, isn’t it?” She pauses again, letting her words sink in. “Listen, is it fear, Sabrina? Fear ofhim?Or fear of…love?Fear of letting yourself be happy, because you’re so braced for it all to fall apart? Sometimes they look a lot alike, you know.”

Her words hit me, hard. Fear versus love. Am I so trapped in my own history, my own abandonment issues, that I can’t see the difference? Am I projecting my father’s sins onto Leo, even when he’s actively trying, in his own flawed, chaotic way, to be better?

My own commitment phobia… is it just as bad as his used to be?

“I… I don’t know, Tati,” I whisper, sinking onto my sofa, the fight draining out of me. “I just… I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Then sleep on it, honey,” Tatiana says gently. “Like you told Leo. Sometimes, a little distance, a little quiet, helps clear the fog. But don’t let fear make all your decisions for you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I agree, though my mind is still a tangled mess.

After we hang up, I find myself staring out at the glittering, indifferent lights of Manhattan from my tiny Brooklyn window.

Tatiana’s words echo in my head.“Is it fear, Sabrina? Or... love? Sometimes they look a lot alike.”

Am I running from Leo because I’m afraid he’ll hurt me and Mia?

Or am I running because I’m terrified of actually loving him?

Of trusting him?

Of letting him in, only to have him disappear, just like my father did?

My own commitment phobia, the one I’ve been projecting onto him, suddenly feels uncomfortably familiar.

The next morning,after I’ve had a good, long sleep, I pick up my phone.

My fingers hover over Leo’s name.

This can’t be resolved over email, over a sterile conference call.

This needs… face to face. Vulnerability. Honesty. The kind that scares the absolute hell out of me.

Somewhere Mom can’t interrupt.

Leo,I type, my thumbs trembling.We need to talk. This evening? Your place. Just us. Mia will be with Mom.

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