Page 6 of The Billionaire’s Paradise (My Billionaire #4)

The skyline shimmered beyond the windows, quiet and endless. I stood in the living room with my arms crossed, shifting my weight while trying not to check the time for the sixth time in three minutes.

Cal was late.

Not late late. Just enough to make me wonder if Rashida had told him and he’d decided to make a sprint for Canada.

The lock clicked. I straightened.

The door opened—and there he was. Cal stepped inside, eyes wide, tie crooked, and a strange energy radiating off him as if he’d been trapped in an elevator with a mime for the last two hours.

“Hi,” he said, dropping his keys into the bowl with absolutely none of his usual suave timing. They bounced out and hit the floor.

I stared at them. Then at him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded too fast. “Fine. Yes. Totally fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“You look pale.”

“I’m not pale. I’m just—”

“Nervous? ”

“I’m not nervous,” he said, yanking off his tie. “I’m just… processing.”

“Processing what?”

He hesitated. “You know.”

“Ah. Rashida told you.”

“Yes. She did. About the appointment.” He took a breath. “Tomorrow. How did she even know we were thinking about it?”

I shrugged innocently and mumbled “I don’t know” so incomprehensibly it came out as a single, slurred word.

“Ten a.m. at a place called True Path Family Planning ,” he continued. “It’s not a cult, is it? Do you think it’s a cult?”

“I don’t think so.”

“God, I really don’t want us giving our sperm to a cult,” he muttered absently. “That would really suck.” He opened the kitchen cupboard and searched the shelves. “Do we have any calming tea?”

“You’re drinking calming tea now?”

“Do we own calming tea?”

“No.”

“Can we order some?”

“I don’t think Uber Eats delivers emotional stability.”

He turned, braced both hands on the counter, and looked at me. “This is happening.”

“I know.”

“We’re really doing this.”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow morning.” He stared at me, and for a second I thought he might actually sit down on the floor.

I walked over and rested my hand on his chest. “You’re freaking out.”

“I’m freaking out,” he admitted.

“That makes me feel so much better.”

He smiled and pulled me into a hug. “I thought you’d be the wreck and I’d be the one calmly reminding you to breathe. ”

“You are reminding me to breathe. But you’re doing it while chewing your lip and sweating through your shirt.”

“I am not sweating.”

I reached behind him and touched the back of his shirt. “You’re absolutely sweating.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I won’t be like this tomorrow, I promise. I’m just having a moment. I’ll be fine. You know I want this.”

“I know.”

He looked at me. “Do you?”

“Absolutely.”

Cal wrapped his arms around me again. We stood in the kitchen like that for a while, holding each other, hearts racing in weird harmony.

“Do you think we’re ready?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “But I don’t think anyone ever is.”

“Do you think we’ll be good at it?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “I think we’ll figure it out.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“But I want it.”

“So do I.”

Something shifted in the air. A deeper closeness, threaded with uncertainty and need.

Cal slid his hand under my shirt, fingers warm against my skin. “We should enjoy tonight. Just the two of us.”

“Because soon it won’t be just the two of us anymore.”

He leaned down and kissed me. It was soft at first, then firmer, more determined. I kissed him back, my hands sliding up beneath his shirt, palms pressed to the familiar shape of him.

We moved toward the bedroom together.

Clothes came off slowly. Thoughtfully. His fingers tugged at my shirt. I threaded off his belt and planted kisses down the length of his neck. There was nothing rushed, nothing greedy. Just quiet need.

My hands slid down his back as he nudged me toward the bed, our mouths refusing to part.

When he lay over me, my chest ached from how much love I felt for my husband.

When he pushed into me, it wasn’t just about seeking release. It was about anchoring everything we were feeling in something real… us .

He held my face, eyes locked to mine, like he needed to watch every flicker of emotion as it moved through me.

“I love you,” he whispered against my lips.

I pulled him closer. “I love you too.”

Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets, limbs draped over each other, skin still warm. The city lights blinked softly outside.

“Do you think the surrogate case manager will like us?” I asked.

“She’ll love us,” Cal said. “And if she doesn’t, Rashida will step in and stage a full-scale PR intervention.”

I smiled into his chest. “That actually makes me feel better.”

“She’s already prepared color-coded spreadsheets.”

“Of course she has.”

His fingers threaded through mine under the covers.

“Maybe we’re going to be really good at this,” he said softly.

“Maybe. I hope so. God, I hope so.”

Outside, the night settled around us. Tomorrow, everything would begin.

But tonight, we had each other—and that was already enough.