Billionaires Dollar Series

“What do you think of Bella?”

“Really nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yes. And good cookies.”

“She makes good cookies, yes, that’s true.” I smooth a honey-brown curl back from her forehead, my mind racing ahead. “What would you think of her coming over more often?”

“Wow,” Wilma breathes. The amazement on her face doesn’t seem fake, either-does she really find this picture as fascinating as I do?

“It’s amazing, right?”

“It really is.” She puts the picture down between us on the floor, as I’m still sans couch, and we both stare at the black-and-white sonogram. “I’m still in shock, Bells.”

“Oh, so am I! I still can’t grasp that that little girl is inside me,” I say. “Or guy, I suppose. And it’s so early still. My OB/GYN told me it’ll look much more like a baby later on.”

“I didn’t even know they did ultrasounds this early,” Wilma says. “Well, to be fair, I don’t know anything at all about pregnancies. I know your belly gets big, and I know they last for nine months, but that’s it.”

“You’re right on all three counts, actually. It’s early for an ultrasound, but I think it’s because of Ethan’s health plan.” His name only burns a little on the way out. “The new clinic I’m at is fantastic.”

“Has he seen the picture?”

“No. I considered sending it to him, but I also asked him to come to the check-up with me, and he didn’t.”

Wilma lies back on the floor with a dramatic sigh. “The man is an idiot.”

I sigh. “The problem is that he isn’t, though. He’s probably been retracing all of our conversations and finding patterns to fit his theory.”

“You can be a clever idiot.”

“Something you know from experience?”

Wilma lifts her head briefly to stick her tongue out at me, before settling back down. “You can’t tell me you aren’t angry with him, Bella. You can’t possibly be handling this as serenely as you seem to be. I know you-and you’re not one to back down from a fight. Wow, this crack in your ceiling is legit.”

I glance up. “I called the landlord about it, but he said it was part of the old building charm.”

“Well, it’s not so charming when old buildings come down around you and you’re buried in rubble.”

“No hating on my home.”

“Calling it a home is a bit of a stretch,” Wilma points out. “And don’t deflect. You’re angry at him?”

I keep my eyes on the wide fissure in the plaster and try to keep my own cracks at bay. “He’s dismissing everything we had because of this pregnancy. It’s like he’s seeing what he wants to see, instead of the truth. Of course I’m angry at him.”

“Good.” Wilma’s voice is determined. “Better angry than sad.”

“I’m both.”

“Both is also good.”Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

“Have you started studying psychology and not told me about it?”

“No, I’m just an armchair expert. Do you have any dreams? I could interpret those.”

“Sadly, I’m all out.”

“Dang.” She looks down at her watch. “Trina should be here soon with the take-out.”

“Awesome.”

“I’ll have to point out the crack in the ceiling to her.”

I groan, because Trina is an architect student. “You know exactly what she’ll say.”

“Oh yes,” Wilma says, relish in her voice. “She’ll say it’s structurally unsound. But look at it this way-she might be able to get your landlord to lower the rent on those grounds.”

“Yippie. Also, what the heck am I going to tell my parents? You’re very welcome to come up with suggestions.”

“They come to town next month, right?”

“Tell them the truth,” Wilma says, grinning at my expression. “Yes, they might have apoplexies, but what else can you do?”

“Conceal it for eighteen years, never visit, become-”

The sound of my phone ringing echoes through the still mostly empty living room. I reach for my bag, thrown by the front door.

“Ten bucks it’s Trina who can’t remember our take-out orders,” Wilma says.

I chuckle, fingers closing around my phone. But the name on my screen isn’t our friend at all.

“It’s Ethan.”

Wilma straightens. “Shit.”

My heart in my throat, I answer. “Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Hi.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” he says. “Are you home? Can I come up?”

“Now? Like, right now?”

Wilma’s eyes widen, and then she’s nodding. Yes, she mouths.

“Yes, now.” Ethan’s voice is the embodiment of polite, cool professionalism. “Unless you’re busy, in which case I can come back later.”