Page 21 of Accidental Theirs (Alpha Billionaire Daddies #6)

Chapter Eighteen

SEBASTIAN

Today is a bad day.

Every year, the twenty-eighth of March is a bad day.

I take a gulp of my fourth—maybe fifth—drink and press the rewind button on the remote.

The video is old, a VHS, a dinosaur of technology, and the machine screeches as it rewinds.

I don’t know what I’ll do if it ever breaks. I suppose I should put the recording on the cloud, or whatever the kids are doing these days, but it’s a hard watch.

I only allow myself to wallow on this day.

I met Sophie Davis on her birthday, when she came into a bar in my hometown with all her friends. She was bright-eyed, already a bit tipsy, but God, she burned so bright.

I fell in love on the spot.

I swallow hard, and I tell myself it's the burn of the bourbon that makes my eyes water.

Sophie’s looking at me from the television, smiling in that way of hers that shows her canines. They were sharp, too, pierced my shoulder more than a thousand times .

I instinctively rub my fingers against my shoulder, right where she used to leave her mark.

It hurts that my skin is unbroken now.

Everything hurts, if I’m honest, every little thing about her, every second of this video.

On the screen, Sophie throws her veil at me playfully, and I catch it, fumbling, before chasing her to the back of the building.

The wedding cameraman catches the sound of her delighted giggle perfectly.

I take a ragged breath and wipe at the tears already rolling down my face.

They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, but I disagree. Some days, I almost wish I’d never met her.

Almost.

A knock on my door makes me nearly jump out of my skin, and I instantly turn off the television, feeling almost ashamed.

I’m wallowing, and that’s my right, damnit, especially today.

It’s nearly midnight, and I’m not expecting visitors. I would never schedule anything on this day. I always take it off work because I know I’ll get nothing done.

When I stand up, the world spins on its axis, and I brace myself on the couch, taking a few deep breaths to ground myself.

When I look through the peephole, shock rushes through me.

Olivia stands there, her arms crossed over her chest, looking down.

I tug the door open. “Olivia? It’s late, what are you?—”

She pushes past me, and I brace myself against the door so I don’t fall over .

I shut the door behind me, bewildered, and Olivia whirls around to face me after taking in the scene—a half empty bottle of bourbon on the table with one glass.

I wince. It doesn’t look good.

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m in my own house, aren’t I?” I’m getting defensive, even as I try not to slur my words.

She scoffs. “You really are the epitome of the billionaire playboy, aren’t you?”

I shrug. “I don’t have to apologize for that.

I've always been upfront about who I am.” I pause, but the alcohol in my system makes more words fall out of my mouth.

“Besides, I’m old enough to be your father, and it’s not like I invited you here, now is it?

So, what right do you have to question me? ”

She drops her arms from her chest, searching my face.

I don’t know what she finds there, but it makes her soften.

“Are you…are you okay?”

For a split second, I think about being honest.

No.

Then I shake my head to clear it, but it only results in making me dizzy. “I’m fine. What did you need to talk to me about? If it’s work-related, can it wait until tomorrow because?—”

“It’s not about work.” Her voice is flat.

Oh, boy. Here it comes.

Is this the “what are we?” conversation? Because I’m not ready for this. Not yet.

I was hoping to spend a bit more time with Olivia before I had to break things off.

I open my mouth to start the spiel. It’s not you, it’s me. We can still be friends.

But before I can speak, Olivia sits down on my couch.

“I’m pregnant.”

Surely, I didn’t hear her right.

“What?”

I’m drunk. That’s all this is. I’m hearing things. Right?

I sit next to her on the couch, hard, staring at her, trying to make her words make sense.

“I’m pregnant, Sebastian.”

“No, you’re not.”

She chuckles. “Tell that to the morning sickness.”

It’s possible that I may be asleep right now.

What if I passed out on the couch like so many other nights like this, and I’m just having some really detailed nightmare?

“Olivia,” I start, but I have no idea how to finish.

“It might be yours.”

“ Might be?”

She lets out a frustrated breath. “Yes, might be. Don’t you remember the orgy we had a couple of months ago?”

Oh.

It’s not like I’ve forgotten about that night, or the other night it was just me and Olivia, but it seems like it was a long time ago. I’ve barely seen her since.

And now she’s pregnant?

“And…you’re…keeping it?” I hate myself for even asking as soon as I see the look on her face.

She keeps her eyes on mine. “Yes.”

I’m reeling, and not because of all the bourbon I’ve poured down my gullet.

“You’re serious.”

“Of course, I’m serious, Sebastian. Why else would I come here?” Her eyes well with sudden tears, and my heart aches.

I hate seeing a woman cry. But her tears hurt me even more for some reason .

“Just…just let me think.” I rub my hands across my face. “You really don’t know which of us is the father?”

“Of course not. How would I know?” She frowns, and tears slip down her cheeks.

I soften and put an arm around her shoulders.

“It’s okay, little girl.” I rub her bare arm.

Her skin is cold, and I pull a throw blanket off the top of the couch and drape it across her shoulders.

She leans into me, pressing her face against my shoulder.

I squeeze her to me. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How?” She trembles in my arms. “Damien hates me, Dominic is going to lose it, and you don’t want anything to do with this.”

“Hey, hey, slow down. I didn’t say that, did I?”

She pulls away enough to look at me.

Maybe it’s the booze or the melancholy or how much I miss Sophie, but having a little Sebastian running around doesn’t sound so bad.

I’m over forty years old, for God’s sake. Isn’t it time I had some kind of legacy? Even if I’m not looking for a relationship, things are different now. A kid is not a marriage sentence.

On the other hand, this is Olivia… Would it really be so bad?

And for a second, I let myself imagine how being a dad would feel like.

A little me or a little Olivia holding my hand. Someone to love, who loves me unconditionally. Someone to live for.

And now I’m a little peeved that there are two other candidates for the daddy spot.

But I made the decision to have that wild night. I threw my hat in the ring knowing the consequences.

“I’ll be here for you and the baby. Anything you need.”

Her lip trembles, and I brush my thumb across it .

“You mean it?”

“Am I in the habit of saying things I don’t mean?”

She smiles weakly. “But what if it’s not yours?”

I shrug. “What if it’s not? You’re still my friend, right? And Richard would want me to take care of you.”

She smiles, shaking her head. “He’s going to kill you.”

I sigh. “I know. But after he calms down, he’ll want someone he trusts in your corner.”

“Bash, you…you don’t know what this means to me.” She hitches in a sobbing breath.

I hug her close, kissing the top of her head before pulling away.

She looks at me, narrowing her eyes. “How drunk are you? Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”

“I feel pretty sober now.”

She barks out a laugh, and I smile, glad that she’s feeling better.

She shifts on the couch, resting her back against the couch arm and draping her legs in my lap.

I put my arms around them instinctively.

“Now, tell me what’s going on with you.”

I stiffen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re sloppy drunk on a Tuesday night, alone. That’s not like you.”

“How would you know?”

She gives me a withering look. “I know you, Bash.”

I groan, settling back against the couch and rubbing my thumb across her ankle. “It’s not your business, Olivia.”

She shrugs. “If we’re going to be co-parents, it’s kind of my business, isn’t it?”

“We’re not co-parents yet.”

She hums in the back of her throat, looking at me curiously. “All right. Keep your secrets. ”

“They’re not secrets. I just... I keep my private life private.”

“As long as you’re okay.”

I hesitate. “I’m okay.”

“I’m not terribly convinced, but I can tell I’m not going to get anywhere with you tonight.”

I’m comfortable despite the shock, and I grumble when she moves her legs out of my lap, standing up.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Let you go back to...” She gestures to my apartment in general. “Whatever this is.”

I almost want to ask her to stay.

Maybe today doesn’t have to be such a bad day. Maybe I can share my feelings with her, have someone to talk to.

But I remember what it was like when I lost Sophie. I remember the yawning void inside me that I have still not been able to fill, even after all these years.

I just nod, looking away. “Call me if you need me to take you to an appointment or rub your feet or something.”

She smiles. “Thank you, Bash. Really.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The door closes behind her, and I let out a long breath.

What the fuck just happened? It doesn’t feel real.

I feel stone-cold sober now despite the alcohol in my system, but instead of drinking more, I head directly to bed where I lie in the dark, looking up sightlessly at the ceiling.

What if it is mine? What if Olivia and I fall in love, have a child, have a family?

My breath catches in my throat.

What if it’s not mine, and it’s all torn away from me all over again?

I don’t know if I’ll survive it.