Page 56 of Damaged Billionaire Daddy
Delard said, “Well, listen to you gettin’ all poetic. Are you writin’ a book or somethin’?”
Caleb grinned. “As a matter of fact, I’ve written several. What do you think I do while I wait for Richie? Read comics?”
“Um...” I said. King of the snappy comebacks, that’s me.Then I added, “Caleb, find out what she needs. Whatever it is, I’ll help her somehow. I owe her that.”
“What do you want, Boss?” Caleb asked, and I knew that we were all right again.
I knew what I wanted, but there was a good possibility that I’d already blown my chances.
“I want to make sure she’s ok,” I said humbly. “Just that.”
“Then we are on the same page,” Caleb said. “You sit tight, and I’ll see what I can find out.”
Delard stared at me for a long moment. “Wow!” he said. “She’s really got to you. You wouldn’t have done that even for Kayla.”
I knew he was right. But Kandis had something that Kayla didn’t. She had me taking her around a common carnival instead of showing her the town like I’d intended. She put snow down my collar. She kissed me like I was her everything.
She hated me. And she was right to do so. I was every bit the asshole she called me. I didn’t even know if she would let me help her.
“Find out,” I told Caleb.
“Yeah, yeah, Captain Smith,” he said, “I’ll be your John Alden, and I won’t steal the girl.”
With that cryptic remark, he let himself out the door.
Delard shook his head. “You had a good run as a rich playboy, but I can see it is all over,” he said. “I’ll do what I can to make sure you don’t wind up begging with a tin cup. Don’t get up, I’ll let myself out.”
Then I was alone in the sterile apartment with a slim file folder that detailed a business life properly lived.
What the heck was I going to do with myself if Kandis Quinn wouldn’t let me back into her life?
Chapter twenty-four
Kandis
UncleGeorge checked me into the hostel for families who had loved ones in the hospital. Mom was better, but she was a long way from well.
I could tell from the way the doctor talked that there could be complications and there would certainly be hospital bills.
One thing at a time. She knew me, and she almost sounded like the mom who used to bake me cookies and take me to cheerleading practice.
“I’d take you home,” Uncle George said, “but Martha won’t hear of it. She figures you are a flake, just like your mom.”
Thinking back on my time in New York, living with Justin, I was not sure I could argue with her assessment. Parties, booze, wild weekends . . . but she wasn’t quite right. I’d always been in school, or had a job, or both. The other was just my way of getting through the times in between my work shifts and class schedules.
But now I am pregnant. A single mom, just like Aunt Martha had predicted time and time again.
Uncle George made a deposit at the front desk, in case I wanted to order room service or something. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Mimi and Pops had paid me for last week’s work and advanced me the next. Who knew what I would need in the coming weeks.
After Uncle George left, I listlessly put the suitcase Mimi had packed for me on the bed. I might as well try to get some rest.
I unlocked the case and lift out the flannel nightgown Mimi had purchased for me. “It’s going to be cold,” she said.
I remembered the satin pajamas and warm, fluffy robe Richard had bought for me. All those things were sitting in the bags I had brought back from the mountains. I couldn’t bear to look at them, but I couldn’t throw them away either.
I’m such a mess. I can’t do anything right.
Under the nightgown was a note from Mimi. “I know you don’t want to think about this, but that man came back to talk with you. And he might have, if I hadn’t called Justin. I’ve put the roses and the package away for you, but here is the card he left with them.”
