Billionaire Boss (41 page)

D
ays and weeks pass
, and I am still in a confused state. Ryan has continued to call me almost every day, even though I refuse to answer. If he doesn’t call, he sends a text, which I also ignore. On a couple of occasions I block his number from my phone, but then I unblock it again, although I’m not sure why. I think to myself that if he really wanted to see me, he would just come here and show his face.

My thought is answered by one of Ryan’s texts that says:
We are coming to the end of the shoot and they have us on set almost every day. I just want to be with you. I wish I could come and see you. If you could look into my eyes, you would know without question that I love you. The minute they let me go, I am coming to see you.

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I’m sure he has at least a few weeks before they finish shooting the film. The movie won’t be released for another several months, and already Ryan’s name is becoming known. I keep seeing him mentioned more often in the magazines and on television. His popularity is gaining because of his connection to Calista, and more so because of his looks. He is surely handsome enough to become the focus for lusting fans everywhere, and he has the body to match.

Tara keeps trying to convince me that if Ryan doesn’t want to be with me, he wouldn’t be contacting me all the time. I just think he feels bad about how it happened. Maybe he did want to be with me, but he lost that chance by being with someone else. She still wants me to give in and talk to him. Even though she hasn’t told me, I know she has been keeping in touch with him. I trust her enough that I’m sure she hasn’t told him about the baby, though, which is all I care about. She can talk to him as much as she wants, as long as that doesn’t happen.

I’ve noticed over the last week or so that I’m starting to show. Luckily it’s still cold out, so it will be easy to hide for a while longer. My pants are much tighter—actually, they’re barely buttoning—but with a big top on, no one will notice. My butt seems to be growing at the same rate. I’m sure others will think I’m just getting fat.

I haven’t seen my parents in a couple of weeks. I don’t want to lie to them—I actually want to tell them, but not until I have to. They’re not going to take the news well when I say there is no father in the picture. At least they’d never know who the father actually was…

Since that’s my plan right now, I’m just procrastinating until I have no choice. I haven’t seen any of my friends other than Tara for a while. I can’t drink, so I don’t want to go out. I’m not sure if it would raise suspicions or not, but I also don’t want to have to lie to everyone.

I’m still working at the bar, and I think I can handle it for a little while longer. Once I start really showing, though, it’s going to be over. Then I will have no choice but to tell my parents that I’m pregnant. If I don’t have an income, I can’t keep the apartment, which means I’ll also have to ask them to move back into the house. I’m not looking forward to that conversation at all.

I just got home from the bar and I’m putting on my pajamas when the phone rings. It’s Tara, so I pick it up.

“Turn on your television right now,” she says before I have a chance to speak.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Just turn it on to channel seven,” she answers excitedly.

I put my TV on and see the late night talk show host laughing at his desk and almost crap my pants when I see Ryan sitting next to him. “Holy shit,” I say, stunned seeing him on television like this. He looks so handsome. I miss him. I wish he hadn’t screwed things up so bad.

“I know!” Tara replies enthusiastically.

We sit on the phone in silence, watching the interview. Ryan and the host are doing the whole question and answer thing about the movie, adding in their own silly banter. I’ve seen Ryan in some photos and a shot of him here and there on television, but nothing live like this. I don’t know if it’s my hormones, but I’m getting emotional watching him. For the first time since our “breakup,” or whatever you would call it, I find myself longing for him.

The interview goes on for about five minutes. The host asks Ryan about his relationship with Calista James and I stop breathing. I’m pretty sure Tara does on the other end also. We listen together to his answer. He stares into the camera while he replies:
Calista and I are costars, nothing more. I know America wishes we were together, but I only have eyes for one woman. I’ve loved her since the day we met, and I will never stop.

My eyes fill with tears. I want him to be talking about me. I want to believe him. The host makes a joke about who the woman is and where he is hiding her, and then they move on. I forget Tara is on the other line until she speaks.

“Damn girl, what did you do to that man?” she asks. “He just announced on national television that he’s in love with you.”

“He could have been talking about anyone,” I say stubbornly. “Did you know he was going to be on the show?”

“Yeah, he told me to watch, and now I know why,” Tara admits.

“I knew you were still keeping in touch with him,” I reply. I’m more annoyed than angry, “He doesn’t know, Tara, does he?”

“No, Eve. I swore I wouldn’t tell him and I haven’t. You’re running out of time, though. You aren’t going to be able to hide it much longer. Our friends are starting to wonder where you’ve been and why you don’t hang out anymore. What are you going to tell everyone?”

“I don’t know. Right now, my plan is to say I went on a couple of dates with one of my regulars at the bar. One thing led to another, and here I am.” I’ve honestly been thinking about it a lot. It’s the best I can come up with.

“I still think you’re making a mistake,” Tara says for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I know you do. I have to go to bed. I have to work lunch tomorrow, and it’s getting late. Goodnight,” I say.

“ ‘Night,” she replies, sounding defeated once again.

I lie in bed, replaying Ryan’s interview in my head. He has to be talking about me. I know in my heart he is, but in my head, I don’t want to believe it. Calista is beautiful and famous, and I’m sure she can be seductive and intimidating. I wouldn’t blame Ryan if he fell for her—even just once. But I can’t get past that fact.

Seeing him on the show, though—it reminded me of the old Ryan. He seemed so
real
, so
Ryan.
I hold my belly and think of what Tara says, that I’m making a mistake. She might be right. I feel my emotions starting to shift somewhat for the first time. I did love Ryan, and he loved me too. I should be able to move past what I saw and trust him again like I once did. I’m just not sure yet.

A
fter the interview
I wrestle with myself, trying to decide if I should call Ryan or not. He was so believable and if he
was
talking about me, I should respond. I mean, he did publicly profess his love for me. But then I would have to tell him I’m pregnant. That could ruin everything he has going for him now. I’m not sure I want to do that to him, especially if it’s not me he is in love with.

Two weeks go by with no contact from him at all. I feel deflated. My feelings toward him had just started to turn the corner, and now he is gone. I don’t know why and I’m afraid to find out, I may have lost my chance. Maybe I ignored him for too long and he moved on—who would blame him?

I’m not sure if Tara is still keeping in touch with him. I haven’t asked her yet because I’m kind of scared of what she’ll say. I will be heartbroken if he really has moved on. I thought he did with Calista, but he denied it the whole time. If he admits he’s found someone new, I will go through the same turmoil all over again. I’ll have to ask her the next time we’re together. She doesn’t mention Ryan unless I ask, anyway.

I’ve been back to the doctor for my follow up appointment, alone this time, and everything is going perfect, as far as the baby is concerned. I ask for a referral for one of their affiliate offices on Long Island. Although I haven’t made plans yet, my time in Manhattan is coming to an end soon. My belly has officially “popped” and there is going to be no more hiding behind anything. The nurse says I finally look like I’m carrying. I’ll be lucky if I can get by for another week or two, but that’s pushing it. Tara said my face looks like it changed, too. Winter is pretty much over and I will have to trade my sweaters and cover ups for t-shirts, and then there will be no denying it.

I also have to let them know at work. They won’t want me pregnant behind the bar. It doesn't look good for me or them, and I understand. They may have noticed something is up already. I’ve traded my tight top for more baggy clothing. They haven’t said anything at this point, because they probably just think I’m getting fat and don’t want to insult me. I only have a small amount saved up, which means I’m going to have to move out. Tara mentioned a friend of a friend who would love to sublet the apartment, so that’s probably what I will do until the lease is up.

I send Tara a text while it’s on my mind. I ask her to let her friend know the apartment will be ready in a month. I need to give myself a deadline and stop procrastinating. The time has come to face the truth, and whatever happens, happens. Regardless of my parents’ feelings, I know they will take me in. It may be awkward for a bit, but I’m still their baby and they love me. Once they warm to the idea, I know they’ll get excited about having a grandbaby. I just have to take the first step.

While we’re texting, I ask Tara to come over Sunday and help me start to get some things together. I know myself well enough to know I’m going to wait until the last possible moment to tell my parents and then there won’t be much time to get ready. I might as well start now before I get even bigger. Tara tells me Sunday is
perfect
—apparently, she was hoping to see me then, anyway.

I pick up a couple of extra shifts during this week to try and make some money while I still can. I’m not going to tell my manager until the end of next week. I need all the time I can get right now. I spend another week working and sleeping, thinking and planning. Ryan still doesn’t text or call me. He’s decided to move on, I know it, and it’s my own fault.

I work a double on Saturday and come home totally drained. I pass out shortly after walking in the door and sleep until noon on Sunday. My mom calls to say hello and the phone wakes me up. She wants to come see me, or have me come for dinner, since it’s been so long, and I agree. My time is running out, anyway. We make plans for me to come to see them next Sunday for dinner. I’m nervous already.

I laze around the apartment for the afternoon just trying up a bit. I have a fleeting thought of making dinner for me and Tara, but nix that idea. I’m craving Chinese food and I don’t feel like cooking at all. I’m sure she won’t mind. I’ve never cooked for her before, no reason to start now. I’ll still treat her to dinner, regardless.

Tara rings my buzzer later in the afternoon, I let her up and we greet each other. She brought a coffee for herself and some kind of sugary hot concoction for me, which happens to be delicious. We hang out for a bit, enjoying our beverages.

“Are you okay?” I ask Tara, she seems a little antsy.

“Yeah,” she answers quickly, “just had a lot of coffee today. Are we really going to do this?” she asks, looking around at my apartment.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” I reply. “Even if I could manage to stay, the thought of walking up and down those stairs over the next few months makes me cringe.”

“Okay, then,” she says, standing up. “Where do you want to start?”

“I figure we can get the things together that I don’t really use—like some stuff in the kitchen and up high in my closet.” I’m not moving for a few more weeks, but I need the help, and a head start can’t hurt.

“Sure. The kitchen sounds like a good place to begin. It’s not like you cook, or anything,” she says with a snicker.

I laugh. “True. Speaking of which, how do you feel about Chinese food for dinner? I’ve had lo mein on the brain all day.”

“Sounds good,” Tara replies. “Want me to order some?”

“Let’s get at least one box packed, first,” I suggest. “Then at least I’ll feel like we accomplished something.”

“Cool,” Tara says and stands on a chair to reach the top of the cabinets in the tiny kitchen. She hands me the few things that are up there and I wrap them and put them in the box. There’s not much in there, so it doesn’t take long.

“I’m going to miss this place,” I muse, looking around. “It’s crazy everything that’s happened in the short time I’ve been here.”

“I know,” she agrees.

“I really miss Ryan,” I admit. Tara looks surprised at my openness, but doesn’t say anything. “Seeing him on television and hearing what he said, it was like he was saying it only to me.” I stand somberly, recalling the interview.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what he was doing,” Tara replies, getting down from her chair.

“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “He stopped calling after that—like, not one text or call. Nothing.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to bother you anymore,” she reasons. “You never once answered or acknowledged him. Maybe he thought it was best to give you some space.”

“Is that what he said?” I ask anxiously.

“He didn’t say anything to me about it. That’s just my own thoughts,” she answers. “I don’t like being in the middle of you two, that’s why I don’t ask questions. Do you mind if we order dinner? I’m getting pretty hungry.” I think she’s trying to change the subject, but I’m not going to push it right now. She sounds upset.

“Sure. I’ll call the place down the block,” I offer, pulling the menu from the drawer.

“That’s okay. I’ll call, you treat,” Tara says with a big grin, snatching the menu from my hand.

I tell her what I want to eat and continue to wrap and place the things she put on the counter into the box. Tara walks into the living room to place the order.

“Shouldn’t be too long,” she informs me when she comes back into the kitchen.

“Good. I’m starving now,” I say.

She helps me wrap the rest and we successfully fill a second box when we hear the buzzer.

“I’ll let them in,” Tara says, quickly walking to the door. She presses the buzzer to let the delivery guy up.

“I told you, it’s my treat,” I say and blow her a kiss. I grab my purse and start counting out the money when he knocks on the door.

I’m still looking down at the bills in my hand when I open the door. I look up and my mouth drops open. The delivery is here, but it’s not the nice, young Asian boy that usually comes—it’s Ryan.

My mouth drops open and I stand there, speechless. Ryan doesn’t say a word. He looks back at me with tear-filled eyes and shrugs, holding up the bag of food we ordered.

“What? How?” I stammer at a loss for words.

“Well, my work here is done,” Tara says from behind me.

I turn around and she is putting on her coat. She walks over and kisses me on the cheek. She kisses Ryan on his cheek next and then reaches into the bag and pulls out the box of fried noodles.

“I’m done keeping all of your secrets,” she says addressing both of us. “You guys are on your own. I’m going for a drink.” And with that, she leaves the two of us here. There is no sound other than the faint echo of Tara’s footsteps as she makes her way down the stairs.

“Can I come in?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah. Of course,” I answer nervously. I step back from the entrance allowing him space to enter. I wrap my sweater around myself and tie it closed as he enters. He looks around, seemingly recalling his days of living here together for a moment.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him at last.

“I had to talk to you, face to face,” Ryan answers. He places the bag on the coffee table and takes off his coat.

“Ryan,” I start, but he interrupts me.

“Eve, listen, please. I came all the way across the country to talk to you. Just let me speak.” I remain silent while he takes a moment to get his thoughts together.

“I love you. I have
always
loved you. I told you before I left that I would wait for you, and I meant it,” he takes a breath, trying to slow down. “Calista and I were never together—
never.
We were photographed together as a publicity stunt for the movie. I was going to tell you all about it when you got to California. I didn’t realize you would see the photo. I didn’t know you would react to it like that, or I would have told you sooner. There was nothing between us—nothing. That rumor did amazing things for the movie, and more importantly for my career, but if I knew I would lose you because of it…” he trails off.

“Ryan, I…”

“Wait, Eve. Please, let me finish,” he asks kindly.

“I thought the television interview would make you see, but you still didn’t call. I would have come here to make things better—or at least try, but I couldn’t. I haven’t had enough time until now. Even now I only have a few days, but I needed to see you. I can’t lose you, Eve. I love you. I need you. You’re my girl.

With that, Ryan reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a small box and kneels down onto one knee. “Eve, I have always loved you and I always will. My life will not be complete unless you are in it. Would you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Ryan looks up at me, and tears are streaming down my face. With all of my being, I want to say yes, but I can’t. “Tara told you, didn’t she?” is what comes out of my mouth instead.

He stays down on his knee, looking dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Why else would you want to marry me?” I say, breaking into a full cry now.

Ryan still looks clueless as he stares up at me. “I had this ring in my pocket when I was waiting for you at the airport,” he explains. “I had this amazing night planned for us when you arrived in California. I was waiting at the terminal with flowers and a limo. I was going to take you to this restaurant with the most incredible view of the city, but you never got off the plane,” Tears well in his eyes again. “This was my surprise, Eve.”

“Really?” I ask, coming to my senses. “Really?”

“Yes. Tara knew all about it,” he says, then changes his tone to one of suspicion. “What does Tara know about you?”

I have anticipated this moment for so long but I don’t know how to say it. “Ryan, I… I’m…” I stammer while he continues to look at me. “I’m pregnant,” I finally blurt out. Ryan’s mouth drops open and he looks at me, puzzled.

“You’re pregnant?” he says. “Is it…?”

I nod before Ryan finishes his question. He looks at me, silently asking permission, then he unties my sweater and places his hand on my stomach.

Tears are now streaming down his face also. “Eve, we’re having a baby?” he whispers.

“We are,” I say, smiling and full of relief. It feels so good to tell him.

Ryan stands back up. He puts both hands on my belly. One is still holding the ring. “How come you never told me?”

“I don’t know,” I say, starting to sob again, “I wanted to tell you in person. I planned on announcing it when I got to California. Then I saw the magazine photo and I just… I lost it. I let my feelings get in the way—I didn’t know what to believe. Maybe it was my hormones, I don’t know. Then you seemed to be doing so well, I didn’t want to screw it up for you. After the interview, I wasn’t sure if there was someone else. I knew in my heart you were talking about me, I knew it,” I admit, feeling ashamed. “I’m such an idiot, Ryan. I made such a mess of everything.”

“Well, we’re here now—together. We can fix it,” Ryan assures me. He wipes the tears from my cheek with the back of his hand, then places it under my chin, tilting my face up. I look up into his eyes; they are filled with tears, but he’s not crying. Ryan is smiling at me and looks completely content. “We’re going to be together, Eve.”

Ryan kisses me gently on the lips and runs his hand over my stomach. “Forget everything that happened since I left. None of it matters anymore. We were in love when I was leaving, and we are in love now.” He gets back down on one knee. “Eve Thompson, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes, I will,” I reply joyfully. Ryan slips the beautiful ring onto my finger. I hold my hand out and look at it in wonder, grinning from ear to ear. He kisses me softly on my stomach and stands back up. His eyes look bluer than I have ever seen them. His smile is as big as mine as we gaze at each other, letting the pain and hurt and confusion disappear. There is now only joy and happiness, for today and the future.

Ryan presses his lips to mine for the first time in weeks. The warmth of his mouth feels amazing. It’s only a matter of seconds before I slip my tongue into his mouth and we begin to kiss passionately. Our mouths are bound, our tongues twirling together in rhythm once again. Ryan’s hands are still on my face, holding me there gently, like he doesn’t want to let me go. I have my arms around him, pulling him close to me as we maintain our embrace until he gently pulls his tongue from my mouth and kisses me on the lips again thoughtfully.