Page 27 of Billionaire's Secret Baby

The door opened, and Lola poked her head out.

“Oh,” she said. “Hi sweetie!”

The two of them embraced, while I stood awkwardly in the hall.

“Sara, this is Alex.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Sara, her voice softening now that she knew I was with Lola. “Macy doing okay, Lola?”

“Yeah, she’s out for the count. You’re amazing, Sara. Thanks for putting her to bed.”

“Least I can do,chica. You around tomorrow?”

“Sure. I’ll see you then, okay?”

“Night.” Sara turned and went down the hall of her building.

“Woman was looking at me like I was a crook,” I muttered, as Lola let me in.

“Oh, that’s Sara,” laughed Lola. “She’s always looking out for me.”

The apartment was homely and warm, despite the old furniture and the threadbare cushions on the sofa. The living room and the kitchen were all one. For a moment I thought of Philadelphia again. Lola’s apartment couldn’t have been much bigger than the one I grew up in.

Except, it was completely different. Whereas my childhood home had been empty and desolate, a sad house with little furniture and nothing on the walls, Lola’s apartment was alive and vibrant. On the walls were posters of famous jazz musicians, Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis. And the room's centerpiece was a giant, antique record player, flanked by two bookcases crammed with enormous sleeves.

“I didn’t know anyone still owned one of these,” I said.

“Oh, that,” said Lola. “Yeah, I used to be pretty obsessed. I’ve got all kinds of stuff here.”

“So,” I said.

“So,” said Lola.

For a moment, we were conscious that we were alone again. I hadn’t stopped thinking about what being here would be like. In the place where she lived, where she played with her kid.

“Sit down,” said Lola. “You want something? Tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” I said. “You know, I’m really getting into this special oolong. I get it sent over from China in small batches, comes in a box every month. I—”

I trailed off. Lola was smiling at me.

“You really are cut from a different cloth, aren’t you?” she said, and smiled wistfully as the kettle boiled. “I got peppermint, and I got jasmine.”

“Peppermint would be fine,” I said.

We sat on the couch.

“I was really impressed by how you handled today,” I said.

“I cried for like, two hours, Alex,” she said.

“That’s fine. No one expects you to be invincible.”

“A lot of people expect me to,” she muttered. “You know I got a visit from social services once?”

“What for?”

“When Macy was four, we lived in this nasty building in Brooklyn. Someone heard a lot of banging and shouting in my apartment, so they sent an inspector to see us.”

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