Page 26 of Single Dad’s Fake Bride (Billionaire Baby Daddies #7)

SADIE

T he phone rang at eight thirty on Saturday morning, and I answered it from my bed before the second ring could wake the house.

"Sadie, honey, I hope I'm not calling too early." Mom's voice sounded tired, with that raspy quality that had gotten worse since the home health nurse had moved in three days ago.

I sat up against the headboard, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. The guest bedroom Harrison had given me faced east, and morning light streamed through the gauze curtains. "No, Mom, I was awake. How are you feeling?"

"That's actually why I'm calling." She paused, and I heard her cough—a wet sound that made my chest tighten. "I made an appointment with Dr. White for Monday morning. I've been having some stomach pain, and Martha thinks I should get it checked."

Martha was the home health nurse Harrison had arranged within hours of our marriage becoming official. She had moved into my old bedroom at the apartment and had twenty years of experience with patients recovering from alcohol dependency.

"What kind of pain?" I asked, swinging my legs out of bed. The floor was cold against my bare feet and my bladder screamed to be relieved.

"Nothing too serious, sweetheart. Martha says it could be related to the medication adjustments, but she wants to be safe. You know how nurses are."

I did know. Martha had called me twice this week with updates on Mom's progress, and each conversation had been thorough and professional. If she thought Mom needed to see the doctor, there was probably a good reason.

"Do you want me to come with you to the appointment?"

"Oh, no, honey. Martha's driving me, and you have your new family to think about now." The word "family" came out in almost a slur that made my throat tight. "How are things going with the rich man and his daughter?"

I walked to the window and looked down at the back yard, where Harrison had set up a small garden bed for Eloise to plant whatever she wanted.

She'd chosen mums and marigolds, and the first green shoots were already pushing through the soil.

As late as it was in the year, I was surprised anything could germinate, but the cold-hardy plants surprised me.

"Good," I said, which was mostly true. "We're all figuring out the routine."

"And you're happy?"

Happiness seemed too simple for what I felt. Confused, maybe. Hopeful and terrified at the same time. But Mom sounded tired, and she had enough to worry about without adding my complicated emotions to the list.

"I'm where I need to be," I said, but I had no interest in hearing her lecture me again, so I said, "Mom, I have to use the toilet. Okay? I'll call you back later."

A soft knock at my door made me look up as I hung up the phone. "Come in."

Eloise peeked her head around the doorframe, her dark hair still messy from sleep. She wore purple pajamas covered in tiny cats, and she carried two dolls under her arm.

"Can we play?" she asked.

I smiled and patted the bed beside me. "Of course. What kind of game?"

She climbed up and arranged the dolls between us. One was a brunette in a blue dress, the other a blonde in pink. "This one can be the mom," she said, handing me the brunette, "and this one is the daughter. They live in a big house, and the daughter goes to a really nice school."

My chest warmed as I took the doll. "What's the mom's name?"

"Sarah. And the daughter is Emma. Sarah used to be sad because she lived alone, but now she has Emma and they're a real family."

I moved the Sarah doll closer to Emma. "What does Sarah do all day?"

"She teaches kids at school, and then she comes home and makes dinner. And she reads Emma stories every night before bed." Eloise made the Emma doll jump a little. "Emma loves the stories because Sarah has the best voices for all the characters."

The parallels weren't lost on me. Neither was the way Eloise kept looking at me when she talked about how much Emma loved having a mom who actually wanted to be there.

I tried not to feel conflicted, but I was getting too attached.

I knew it, and I couldn't seem to stop it.

I felt like it didn't matter how careful we were.

Everyone was going to be hurt when this arrangement was over.

The doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts, and I took the opportunity to jump up. "I'll get it," I said, standing up and smoothing my hair back into a ponytail.

"Can we keep playing after?" Eloise asked.

"Absolutely."

I walked downstairs, aware that Harrison had left an hour ago for his weekly sparring session with Juan.

He'd mentioned it the night before over dinner, explaining that he and Juan had been practicing mixed martial arts together since college.

It was one of the few personal details he'd opened up to me about so far, and I didn't mind babysitting while he was out.

When I opened the front door, Kramer stood on the porch with a brown paper bag in his hands and his familiar crooked grin.

"Hope you don't mind my stopping by unannounced," he said. "I brought pastries from that bakery you love."

I hugged him, breathing in his familiar scent of coffee and cedar cologne. "I'm so glad you're here. Come in."

He stepped into the foyer and looked around, taking in the view. It was just a basic apartment, but bigger than the one I'd lived in for the past few years. Nothing compared to what I figured Harrison could afford, but comfortable.

"This is quite a place," he said, and I didn't miss the sarcasm in his tone.

"Eloise, come meet my friend," I called upstairs.

She appeared at the top of the staircase, still carrying both dolls. "Hi," she said, suddenly shy.

"Eloise, this is Kramer. Kramer, this is Eloise."

Kramer gave her a small wave. "Nice to meet you, Eloise. Are those your dolls?"

She nodded. "Mom was playing with me."

"That sounds fun." Kramer's eyebrows went up at the word "Mom" and he glanced at me. "Mind if I steal her for a little while? I brought some chocolate croissants."

Eloise's face brightened. "I love chocolate croissants. But I promised my friend Maya I'd come over when she woke up. She lives next door."

"Perfect timing, then," I said. "Why don't you get dressed and check if Maya's ready to play?"

She nodded and disappeared back upstairs with steps faster than lightning.

I led Kramer to the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. The space was beautiful—white marble countertops, navy cabinets, and windows that looked out onto the back garden. But it felt too clean, too perfect, as if nobody actually lived here.

"So," Kramer said, settling onto one of the barstools. "How's married life?"

I pulled two mugs from the cabinet and tried to figure out how to answer. "Different than I expected."

"Good different or bad different?"

I opened the pastry bag and inhaled the smells of butter and chocolate. "Both, I think."

He studied my face, but I could see his scrutiny in his eyes. Kramer had a gift for seeing through whatever version of myself I was trying to present to the world.

"Talk to me," he said.

I poured hot water over the tea bags and sat down across from him. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this. It's only been seven days, and I already feel like I'm drowning."

"In what way?"

"Harrison is…" I paused, trying to find the right words. "He's not what I expected. And Eloise is incredible, but I'm getting attached to her in a way that's going to destroy me when this all ends."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Instead, he reached across the counter and squeezed my hand.

"Sadie, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, right? If this isn't working, if you're not happy, there are other options."

I felt my eyes start to burn. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I could help you find a more permanent teaching position. There's a school in Boston that's been looking for someone with your experience. And there are programs for people caring for family members with health issues. You don't have to depend on anyone else."

The kindness in his voice broke something open in my chest, and I started crying before I could stop myself. Big, ugly tears that I'd been holding back all week.

Kramer came around the counter and pulled me into a hug, rubbing circles on my back the way he had a dozen times before when life got overwhelming.

"It's okay," he murmured. "Honey, oh… It's going to be alright."

I was still crying into his shoulder when I heard the front door open and close. Heavy footsteps crossed the foyer, and then Harrison appeared in the kitchen doorway.

His gray eyes moved from me to Kramer to our embrace, and his expression went completely blank. It was worse than anger—it was the cold, distant look I'd seen him wear around the school board.

"Eloise," he called upstairs, his voice perfectly controlled, "Maya's mom is here to pick you up."

Eloise's footsteps thundered down the stairs. "Bye, Sadie! Bye, Kramer!"

The front door opened and closed again, and then it was just the three of us in the suddenly too-quiet kitchen.

I stepped back from Kramer and wiped my face with the back of my hand. "Harrison, this is my friend?—"

"I should probably head out," Kramer said quickly, reading the tension in the room. He squeezed my shoulder. "Think about what I said, okay?"

I nodded and walked him to the door, acutely aware of Harrison's presence behind us.

When I came back to the kitchen, Harrison was loading the dishwasher with sharp, precise movements.

"You're upset," I said.

"I'm not upset."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

He closed the dishwasher door and turned around, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. "Who was he?"

"I told you. Kramer. He's a friend from?—"

"How close of a friend?"

The question caught me off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I walked into my kitchen and found my wife crying in another man's arms."

"So?"

"So it's been less than a week, Sadie. If you're already having second thoughts?—"

"This isn't about second thoughts," I snapped. "He was being supportive. Friends do that."

"Right. Friends." He said it with enough skepticism to make my jaw clench.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

But I wasn't going to let it go. "No, I want to know what you're implying."

Harrison ran a hand through his hair that was already mussed from his workout. "I'm not implying anything. I'm stating a fact. You're married now, and there are certain expectations?—"

"Expectations?" My voice rose. "From who? The school board? Your father's ghost? Or are you worried about what people might say about your fake wife having male friends?"

"This has nothing to do with?—"

"Because speaking of rumors," I continued, my anger building momentum, "half the school thinks you're sleeping with another teacher while you're married to me. So maybe you should worry about your own reputation before you police my friendships."

Harrison's face went white. "That's not true."

"Which part? That people are talking, or that you're not sleeping with her?"

"Both." His voice was flat, final. "I haven't touched anyone else since—" He stopped himself, pressing his lips together.

"Since what?"

"Since you."

I felt my anger falter, replaced by confusion and something that felt dangerously close to hope.

"Then what is this really about?" I asked quietly.

Harrison looked at me for a long moment, and I saw something vulnerable flicker across his face before he shut it down.

"I don't want him in this house around my daughter," he said. "I think I should have the right to meet your friends before you expose my daughter to…"

The coldness in his tone hit me harder than a slap. After everything—after the nights we'd spent together, after the way he'd held me, after the careful kindness he'd shown my mother—he was drawing lines around what parts of my life were acceptable.

"Do you have a problem with my friends?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet. "Or is it because he's gay?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Is this about Kramer specifically, or do you just not want any gay men around your precious daughter?"

Harrison stared at me, his mouth slightly open. "That's not—I didn't know he was?—"

But I was already walking away, done with his explanations and his boundaries and his need to control every aspect of our arrangement.

"Sadie, wait."

I turned around at the bottom of the stairs, and all the frustration and fear and loneliness of the past week came pouring out.

"No!" I shouted. "I can't take this. It's too much. I need my life to be normal, and if you can't manage to understand that, then maybe we should call this whole thing off!"

I ran up the stairs, not caring how loud my footsteps were or how childish I probably sounded. When I reached my room, I slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame.

Then I collapsed on my bed and tried to figure out how everything had gone so wrong so fast.