Page 16 of The Runaway Billionaire's Inconvenient Baby
“That’s great, thank you,” I cut her off, not wanting to listen to any more of this inane rambling.
“Don’t forget, we serve dinner starting at four,” she says with a grin.
“I won’t.” I grimace, with absolutely no intention of ever, ever going to the restaurant here.
Before she can get another word in, I stride out into the day and head down the main street. People are bustling about again, going in and out of shops, chatting with friends and strangers. I suppose, in a town this big, they all know each other. They have that tedious sort of community spirit.
I’m very nearly tempted to go into some of the little stores and see what sort of trinkets and tourist trap junk they have, but that’ll mean being roped into a conversation. I don’t think I can handle having a conversation before midday without a cup of coffee in my hand.
To the cafe it is.
I wander aimlessly down to the beachfront so I can stare out to sea, but to my great dismay, that’s when people start noticing me. A young couple come up to me. They’re clearly expecting a baby.
“Excuse me, sir,” says the young man as he flags me down. “We heard what you said at the town hall last night.” I hum as if to saygo on,and they do. “Well, I just wanted to say…” the man leans in as if he’s about to tell me some great conspiracy. “We would take it.”
“You would?” I say, my eyebrows raised.
They glance around as if they’re afraid of being overheard. “I understand why lots of people wouldn’t,” whispers the woman. “But we’ve got a baby on the way.”
The man nods in agreement. “This town is great, but we want our baby to have all the opportunities possible. We don’t want our child to be held back. And I don’t want other people’s pride to get in the way of a future we could have.”
“Commendable,” I say. “Principles are one thing, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting better for your family.”
“Plenty in this town wouldn’t agree,” the woman says, her voice hushed. “You’ll face resistance, but a lot of people will also go with the easy option. I’m sure you know what people are like.”
I chuckle. “You two seem to not only have brains but also enterprise. What do you do for jobs?”
“I went to school in LA for tech development, actually,” confesses the woman, flushing a little as if she’s embarrassed. “Not that I have a great job in it or anything. I’m nothing special. I do some remote work. But?—”
“Say no more.” I smile. “Here’s my card. I want you to contact me. I’ll see that you’re taken care of. Don’t worry.”
Her mouth drops open, and I have to almost force the card into her hand.
“Thank you so much,” says the man. “They’re going to say nasty things about you, but we know they’re not true. We’ll support you.”
“Thank you.” As they scurry away, I mutter to myself, “But for how long?”
I have the feeling that these people are fine telling me they agree in private, but the second they’re forced to stand up to their neighbors, they won’t say a word. Whatever. Not my problem. If these people can be bought, so can everyone. This has renewed my confidence. A few more days here to charm the people and make sure that I really do want to go through with this, and life will be a dream.
And, as it turns out, this couple are not the only ones who come up to me and say they agree. I get my fair share of people telling me I should go back to the city, that I need to leave them all alone. But I get a few more people who come up to me to tell me they would take the money.
This is a complicated town full of complicated people. I’m starting to see that I was very, very wrong to dismiss them all as simple idiots.
I follow my phone map all the way to the cafe. The landlady was right. It’s absolutely packed in there. People flow in and out like they’re in the busiest rush of their lives. I thought life on an island like this was supposed to be slow, gentle, calm. Not according to these people. They all have places to be.
Who knows where they’re heading and if it really is that important, but that’s none of my business.
Even if it were my business, I don’t think I would care very much.
I saunter into the cafe and grit my teeth against the inevitable way everyone’s going to turn around to look at me. But they don’t. A couple of people glance up. A handful of those glances turn into glares, like I’m some sort of devil incarnate.
But most people don’t even notice someone new has come into the store at all. Great. This was exactly the level of anonymity I was hoping for. And just imagine when all this is mine. I’ll be more anonymous than ever. In fact, it won’t even be anonymity. There won’t be people to annoy me.
Doesn’t that sound blissful?
Before I can get too lost in my fantasy, I force myself to walk up to the counter because I want my coffee. A young, brown-skinned guy is working the coffee machine, slamming his hand on the side of it as if that will get it to work better. He mutters something at it in Spanish, then turns to me, beaming. “Good morning! What can I get for you?”
“The strongest coffee you have. And a big breakfast. The food here is good, right?”
