Baby Trapped by the Billionaire novel · Chapter 7 of 24
Chapter 7: Morning Sickness
The smell of frying onions hit me at nine on Tuesday morning.
I made it to the kitchen's back sink by about a quarter of an inch.
I threw up everything I'd eaten since Sunday.
Rita's Corner Diner has a tiled prep room with a mop sink.
I ended up there on my knees with my hair in my face, and two cooks pretending not to see.
Then a hand gathered my hair back, gently, and held it.
"Breathe," said Gavin.
I turned my head.
He was crouched beside me in a thousand-dollar suit on the wet floor of a diner kitchen.
"What are you doing here?"
"Your boss called me."
"My boss doesn't have your number."
"Harold gave it to her. He's called her three times this week to ask if you've eaten."
I started to laugh, which was a mistake, and threw up again.
He held my hair through that too.
When it was over, he wet a paper towel under the tap.
He wiped my face slowly and carefully.
"I'm taking you home," he said.
"I have four tables."
"You have a doctor's note I'm about to write myself."
"I'm not letting you buy me out of a job, Gavin."
"I'm not buying anything." He looked at me with those dark eyes. "I'm asking you to let me drive you."
I let him drive me.
Halfway up the long hill to Sewickley, I asked about Spencer.
"He cornered me in the coat closet on Sunday," I said. "He said the baby was promised to somebody else before I walked into that hospital. He said ask you who."
Gavin's hands stayed steady on the wheel.
"Spencer says a lot of things."
"I'm asking you."
"The only person who was promised anything is Harold. A great-grandchild. He's been waiting for years, and Spencer knows I'd give him one over Spencer's dead body."
It sounded true.
It sounded true enough that I let the matter lie on the seat between us, and I watched the trees go by.
That night the house was very quiet.
I lay in bed in the east wing, awake, with the lock on my door turned from habit.
At eleven I got up and turned it back.
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