Page 66
Story: Falling for Mr. Billionaire
I slump back against the couch. “I don’t know, Ness. Maybe I should just… not tell him.”
She whips her head toward me so fast I’m surprised her neck doesn’t snap. “You can’t not tell him. Ivy, this is his baby, too. He deserves to know.”
I know she’s right. I do. But the thought of reaching out and baring myself all over again only to be met with silence—or worse, rejection—makes my chest ache.
“What if I write a letter?” I suggest weakly. “An actual handwritten letter. Very Jane Austen.”
Vanessa gives me a look. “What year do you think this is? He’s a billionaire, not Mr. Darcy. You think he’s going to open snail mail?”
“Good point.” I rub my hands over my face. “God, this is a nightmare.”
She’s quiet for a second, then says, “Okay. What about sending a package? Like… a baby onesie or something.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Right, because nothing says ‘life-altering news’ like tiny laundry.”
“Fair. Still brainstorming.” She taps her fingers against her thigh, thinking. “We need something short. Punchy. Direct. No explanations he can skim over. No excuses he can hide behind.”
I sit up a little straighter. “What if…” I start to say but then I trail off, heart thudding.
Vanessa’s eyes light up. “Go on.”
I swallow hard. “What if I just text him two words? No buildup. No warning. Just… ‘I’m pregnant.’”
No long paragraphs. No room for him to ignore it. Just the truth, dropped right in his lap like a grenade.
Vanessa lifts an eyebrow. “You’re seriously gonna hit him with a ‘You up?’ text but make it ‘I’m pregnant’?”
“Pretty much.”
She laughs, but there’s sadness in it, too. “You’re a savage.”
“Desperate,” I correct.
Vanessa nods slowly. “Honestly? That might be the only way he actually sees it.”
“Yes, because it will show up in the preview, so he won’t even have to click on the text message to see it,” I say, feeling victorious.
I look down at my phone, my hands trembling.
Two words. I can do two words.
“I’ll do it,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.
Vanessa leans over, squeezing my hand. “Whatever happens, you’re not alone in this.”
I nod, blinking fast to clear the sting behind my eyes.
I open the message thread. And, with my heart hammering against my ribs,
I type the two words that will change everything.
I’m pregnant.
I hit send.
And for the first time in months… the message is marked “read.”
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. Vanessa and I sit frozen, eyes locked on the phone screen like it’s a bomb waiting to detonate. Waiting for something. Anything.
She whips her head toward me so fast I’m surprised her neck doesn’t snap. “You can’t not tell him. Ivy, this is his baby, too. He deserves to know.”
I know she’s right. I do. But the thought of reaching out and baring myself all over again only to be met with silence—or worse, rejection—makes my chest ache.
“What if I write a letter?” I suggest weakly. “An actual handwritten letter. Very Jane Austen.”
Vanessa gives me a look. “What year do you think this is? He’s a billionaire, not Mr. Darcy. You think he’s going to open snail mail?”
“Good point.” I rub my hands over my face. “God, this is a nightmare.”
She’s quiet for a second, then says, “Okay. What about sending a package? Like… a baby onesie or something.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Right, because nothing says ‘life-altering news’ like tiny laundry.”
“Fair. Still brainstorming.” She taps her fingers against her thigh, thinking. “We need something short. Punchy. Direct. No explanations he can skim over. No excuses he can hide behind.”
I sit up a little straighter. “What if…” I start to say but then I trail off, heart thudding.
Vanessa’s eyes light up. “Go on.”
I swallow hard. “What if I just text him two words? No buildup. No warning. Just… ‘I’m pregnant.’”
No long paragraphs. No room for him to ignore it. Just the truth, dropped right in his lap like a grenade.
Vanessa lifts an eyebrow. “You’re seriously gonna hit him with a ‘You up?’ text but make it ‘I’m pregnant’?”
“Pretty much.”
She laughs, but there’s sadness in it, too. “You’re a savage.”
“Desperate,” I correct.
Vanessa nods slowly. “Honestly? That might be the only way he actually sees it.”
“Yes, because it will show up in the preview, so he won’t even have to click on the text message to see it,” I say, feeling victorious.
I look down at my phone, my hands trembling.
Two words. I can do two words.
“I’ll do it,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.
Vanessa leans over, squeezing my hand. “Whatever happens, you’re not alone in this.”
I nod, blinking fast to clear the sting behind my eyes.
I open the message thread. And, with my heart hammering against my ribs,
I type the two words that will change everything.
I’m pregnant.
I hit send.
And for the first time in months… the message is marked “read.”
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. Vanessa and I sit frozen, eyes locked on the phone screen like it’s a bomb waiting to detonate. Waiting for something. Anything.
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