Pretending I’m Yours (Forbidden Billionaires #3)

Epilogue 2

Elaina Murphy

A woman discovering that being left

behind sucks as much as she expected it would

It’s a gorgeous day.

Just completely fucking gorgeous…

And I’m miserable.

Completely fucking miserable…

It’s the sun’s fault.

Damned sun…

There it is, hovering above the horizon like a huge orange asshole, bathing the ocean in a haze of pink and gold that I know would have made my mother cry. She loved beach weddings. She would have loved this one, even if Sydney is visibly pregnant.

Mom preferred people do things in order—dating, marriage, then babies—but she loved Syd. She would have been so happy to see her saying “I do” to the man of her dreams and Gideon watching her walk down the aisle like she’s the best thing that ever happened to him.

Hell, the best thing that ever happened to the world.

He’s so in love with her, it’s ridiculous.

And beautiful.

And gross.

Love is gross. I hate it. I don’t ever want to be in love again. I’m glad that I haven’t been on a date since I buried Mom four months ago, let alone found anyone to shack up with in my apartment above the cat café. The cats are all I need. Just cats and new scone recipes and a steady stream of nights alone watching reality television, interspersed with the occasional Zoom book club meeting.

Now that all my girlfriends have moved to New York to be with their sexy boyfriends and husbands, we can’t do book club in person at the café anymore. But that’s fine. Who needs hugs or shared food or laughter that isn’t filtered through a screen?

Not me.

This is fine.

Better than fine.

A twisted part of me is even glad that Mom’s gone, and I don’t have weekly dinners at her place on my schedule anymore. I miss her so much but seeing her in pain all the time at the end was killing me. She’d always been so strong, so independent, raising me alone while running her own dry-cleaning business and volunteering at the church every time they opened the doors. Barbara Ellen Murphy was a powerhouse, then she was a desperately sick woman who hated not being able to get out of bed, and now…she’s gone.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I pop the top on my second beer and try to talk myself into joining the dancing. It doesn’t matter that I’ll be the only one dancing alone. Dancing is still fun.

Right?

“Fuck if I know,” I mutter, blaming the aforementioned piece-of-shit sun for the tears that sting into my eyes as I take a pull on my IPA.

“El?” Maya’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You okay?”

I glance over to find my bestie reaching for a lemonade from the ice bucket full of drinks on the refreshment table, and I force a smile. I will not ruin this day for anyone else. I will continue to hide my despair until they’re all gone and I’m alone in my apartment, where I can have a good cry.

Or a primal scream. Or whatever feels most fitting after a day pretending that I’m fine with being the one happily-ever-after forgot.

“Yeah, just zoning out a little. It’s been a long day,” I say, my fake smile stretching wider as Anthony appears behind Maya, touching a gentle hand to her hip as he reaches past her to claim a beer.

She glances at him over her shoulder, just for a second, but that’s all it takes for them to exchange one of their deeply-in-love smiles. They are also grossly in love and so sweet and good to each other it’s honestly a little nauseating. They only got engaged a couple of months ago, but they have the energy of people who have been devoted for ages.

They were just…meant to be, and I’m happy for Maya, I really am.

But I’m also lonely. And sad.

And a little jealous, a shameful feeling I do my best to push aside as Maya says, “It has been a long day. But the ceremony was perfect. You did such a beautiful job. You make public speaking look so easy.”

My smile softens, starting to feel a little more natural on my face. “It’s not public speaking if everyone in the audience is a friend.”

“Oh, yes, it is,” she insists. “If you ask me, that’s even worse. I’d be way more worried about making a mistake in front of friends than strangers. Strangers you never have to see again.”

I cock my head to one side. “Yeah, I guess. I never thought of it that way.”

“But if you had made a mistake, it would have been fine,” Maya hurries to add. “I mean, if it had been my ceremony, I wouldn’t have cared. Right, Anthony? We wouldn’t have cared. I mean, on such a happy day, what’s a little mistake?” She glances back at him again, asking in a softer voice, “I’m doing a great job of convincing her to marry us on Tuesday, aren’t I?”

Anthony exhales a soft laugh as my eyes go wide. “Fabulous job. Keeping it very low stress.”

“Tuesday?” I ask, blinking as I glance between them. “Why the rush? You guys just got engaged. And I thought you were thinking about a winter wedding at that lodge in upstate New York?”

“Well, yes, we were but…” The smile that stretches across Maya’s face could light up the darkening beach. “But I’d rather get married before I start to show, and I’m sure my parents would prefer that too, so…”

“Oh my God!” I blurt out as the meaning of her words hits home. “You’re pregnant? Oh my God, congratulations!” I pull her in for a tight hug, her laughter stirring the hair already falling out of my updo.

“Thanks,” she says, laughing as we part. “We’re only two months along, but I swear I’ve already gained ten pounds. If we don’t do it soon, I won’t be able to fit into the dress I bought last week.”

“And most of the people we would want at the wedding are already here through Wednesday,” Anthony adds. “And my family is going to fly up on Sunday so…”

“So, we’d be honored if you’d officiate,” Maya says, capturing my hands and giving them a squeeze. “We’ve shared so much in our lives so far. It would be so special to share this, too.”

“Of course,” I say, my heart swelling with love and breaking into tiny pieces, all at the same time. I tighten my grip on her fingers. “Of course, honey. It would be an honor. We can talk tomorrow about what you’d like for the ceremony, and I’ll start working on it right away.” I motion to the chairs and refreshment tables and other wedding accoutrement. “And we already have everything you need for a ceremony on the beach, so…”

“I know! It will be perfect.” She leans in to hug me again, gushing, “Oh, thank you, Elaina. Thank you.”

I close my eyes, a wave of bittersweet emotion tightening my chest. “My pleasure, love. Anything for my Maya Moo.”

Only she isn’t mine anymore. I know we’ll always be close, but as I wander away down the beach half an hour later, after forcing myself to hit the dance floor with all the lovebirds, I’m plagued by the certainty that none of my friends will ever be mine the way they once were. Their husbands come first for them now, before their friends. And soon, Sydney and Maya will be starting their families.

I love babies—my own biological clock has been ticking like a time bomb for the past year and a half—but I know they leave very little time for anything else. I’m guessing soon even Zoom book club will be a thing of the past.

Everything is changing so fast.

Everything except my life, which seems to be stuck in a holding pattern, no matter how hard I try to move forward.

I’ve considered selling the café and moving closer to my friends—with Mom gone there’s not much left for me here—but I could never afford to live in New York. I’ve run a successful business for years and am one hell of a baker, but bakers don’t get paid a living wage in the city, and I couldn’t afford to start a new business down there.

And without a college degree or other marketable skills, I’d likely be living close to the poverty line for the rest of my life. That’s the last thing Mom wanted for me, the last thing I want for myself. In Sea Breeze, I earn a comfortable living and have even been able to put money away for retirement someday.

A retirement I will likely spend alone, unless one of the girls loses their husband and decides to come back to Maine to be old ladies together, but I don’t want that for them. Besides, forty or fifty years from now, they’ll probably have children and grandchildren who need them more than their old friend, Elaina.

Hell, we might have even lost touch completely by then.

The thought makes tears sting into my eyes. The darkening beach ahead is still swimming as I approach a bonfire at the edge of the sand, not far from the dock where Weaver and Sully stay on his yacht when they’re in town.

And there, perched on a fancy beach chair in a summer sweater and linen pants, looking like something from an Eddie Bauer catalogue, sits Hunter Mendelssohn.

Hunter Mendelssohn, Anthony and Weaver’s friend, private equity billionaire, and all-around asshole.

Hunter Mendelssohn, who did wicked things to me for three days straight, practically moving into my apartment above the café—the better to be inside me every second he wasn’t closing deals and dismantling illegal fishing monopolies—only to leave without so much as a “see you later.”

And now, here he is, smug as you please, sipping a beer as he watches me approach like he’s been expecting me to wander up to his bonfire.

“Elaina,” he says, his voice as deep and delicious as I remember. “Good to see you. How have you been?”

“Fuck yourself in the face with a hot poker,” I say pleasantly, the first genuine laugh of the day bursting from my chest at his startled expression. “Oh, come on. You didn’t think I’d be glad to see you, did you? You’re a shit, Hunter. A complete shit. What kind of grown man leaves without saying goodbye?”

“I didn’t realize you cared about things like that,” he says, already recovered from his brief moment of surprise. Now, he’s back in bored billionaire mode again, looking utterly relaxed as he sits back in his chair, his bare feet stretched out into the sand. “If I remember correctly, you said you were looking for a good time, not a long time.”

“Bullshit,” I say. “You weren’t raised by wolves. You knew better than to slink out the backdoor while I was busy with the Sunday rush.”

“I had a plane to catch, and you’d warned me not to show my face downstairs.” His lips curve in a patronizing smile. “If I remember correctly, you were concerned the young men in town might see you with me and get the wrong idea.”

I bristle. “It’s a small town. People talk, and I didn’t want to have to answer a bunch of questions about a guy who was leaving in a few days. And still, you could have left a note. That wouldn’t have required you showing your face anywhere.” I shrug and take another pull on my beer. “But whatever. Who cares? It was a moment. It’s over. Just stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

He inclines his head. “Okay.”

I narrow my gaze, studying him in the glow of the fire. “Why are you in Sea Breeze, anyway? I thought your business here was over.”

“I came to see you, actually,” he says, chuckling at the no-doubt stunned expression on my face.

Pulling myself together, I prop a hand on my hip and intensify my glare. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.” He stands with one smooth movement that reminds me how well he uses that athlete’s body of his. Hunter may spend his days dominating the finance world, but he clearly puts in time at the gym. At forty-two, he’s in better shape than most men my age and knows exactly what to do with that big, hard body of his.

Don’t think about his body. Or how hard it is. Or how hard you want him to fuck you against the wall in your apartment.

Lifting my chin and praying my willpower holds as he ambles closer, until the soap and citrus smell of him teases at my nose, reminding me of how good my sheets smelled after he ravaged me in them, I say, “Seriously. What are you doing here?”

“That night we grilled shrimp in your apartment,” he says, now looming over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact with his much-taller self. “Do you remember what we talked about?”

I frown as scenes of that night flit through my head. “We talked about a lot of things. And we had a lot of wine.”

“And two desserts,” he says, moving closer still, until his body heat warms my skin and my traitorous nipples tighten beneath the bodice of my bridesmaid’s dress.

But it’s getting cold on the beach as the sun finishes setting. That’s the only reason I’m having this reaction. It has nothing to do with the man looking at me like he’s imagining what I looked like wearing nothing but a smile as I rode him in a chair by my kitchen table.

We’d been so hot for each other after the second dessert, we couldn’t even make it to the bed…

“And before you took the espresso mousse from the refrigerator,” he continues, “you told me how much you wanted children. How you were dying to have a baby, actually, but hadn’t found the right situation yet.”

I frown harder. “Okay. And?”

“What if I could provide you with the right situation?” he says, making my brows shoot up my forehead.

“What?” I say with a sharp huff of laughter. “What does that even mean?”

“My mother is dying,” he says, sending a flash of pain through my chest. “It’s cancer. Inoperable. She doesn’t have much time.”

“I…” I swallow. “I’m sorry. My mom died a few months ago. Also cancer. It fucking sucks.”

“It does,” he agrees. “So does feeling helpless to comfort the only person who really matters to you in the world. There is literally nothing I or my money or my influence can do for her. There’s only one way I might be able to ease her passing.” He pauses, his already penetrating gaze boring into mine before he adds, “All she’s ever wanted is to see me settled down and starting a family.”

My breath catches and my heart beats faster. But surely, he doesn’t mean what I think he means. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“You want a baby,” he says. “I need a fiancée, preferably one who’s pregnant with my child, ensuring my mother dies believing I’ll have the family she’s always wanted for me and someone who adores me by my side once she’s gone.”

I shake my head, my stomach churning. “That’s twisted, Hunter. She wouldn’t want you to lie to her.”

“Not if she knew I was lying,” he says. “But she won’t. You’re good with people. Charming. Likeable. I firmly believe you’re capable of convincing her we’re in love and eagerly anticipating the birth of our first child. And, if you succeed in that, once she’s gone, I’ll make sure you and the baby never want for anything.”

I blink faster. This still sounds crazy, but a part of me is also…intrigued. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean ten thousand a month in child support until the child turns eighteen and all other expenses paid.”

I’m grateful I don’t have beer in my mouth because I’m sure I’d be spitting it out. “Ten thousand?”

“Fine, fifteen,” he says, clearly mistaking the shock in my tone. “And I’ll pay off the loan on your building. But that’s all I’m willing to offer.”

I laugh. “You’re crazy.”

“It’s a generous offer.”

“Still crazy,” I say, even as my wheels turn faster. “And what if I would rather move to New York? To be closer to friends?”

He frowns, but after a beat says, “I can get you a place in the city, but not on the Upper West Side. We’ll have to find you a place in Lower Manhattan. Or, better yet, Brooklyn. Once my mother’s gone, I don’t want to see you or the child. A clean break will be best.”

My eyes widen and pain locks around my ribs again, but after rolling his words over in my head for a beat, I realize it’s a good thing he wouldn’t want to be in the picture. After all, I don’t have feelings for Hunter or respect Hunter or want a man like him in my life for the long haul. I turned out just fine without ever knowing my father. I’m sure I can provide the same kind of loving single-parent home my mom gave to me.

Knowing our connection has an expiration date—and that I’ll be able to raise my baby in peace, close to the friends I love, in a place I could never afford to live without a financial boon of some kind—could actually be…pretty amazing.

A dream come true.

Maybe even the miracle I didn’t see coming my way fifteen minutes ago.

It’s still crazy and risky and possibly something I’ll come to regret if something goes awry, but I’m not stupid. If we decide to go through with this, I’ll get all his promises in writing before I take a single step toward the OB-GYN to get rid of my IUD.

“We’d need a contract,” I finally say, fighting to keep the excitement from showing on my face when he says, “I’ve already had one drawn up. It’s at my rental. If you like, we can go take a look at it now.” He glances over my shoulder. “Assuming you’re done at the wedding. I was planning to come by your place in the morning to speak to you about the proposal. I didn’t expect you’d be available tonight. Weaver told me your friend was getting married.”

“She was. She is. Married, that is,” I say. “And she won’t mind if I leave the reception a little early. I’ll text her on the way to your place. I think it’s better I see the contract now, before I have a chance to sleep on this and talk myself out of making a deal with the devil.”

“I’m not the devil,” he murmurs, his hand settling on my hip, setting my skin on fire. “If I remember correctly, you enjoyed the time we spent together. Very much.”

“And I’ll enjoy saying goodbye to you forever even more,” I say with a smile.

It’s true…sort of. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to baby-making with Hunter. The thought of him inside me with nothing between us makes me wet and my nipples are still scandalously hard.

The man knows exactly what to do with his body and with mine.

He’s so good, in fact, that I won’t mind if it takes a few months for us to get pregnant. I haven’t had a reliable lay in my life for way too long. And as much as I loathe Hunter’s smug personality, his skill at delivering earth-shattering orgasms will allow me to overlook that…for a time.

“You will say goodbye this time, right?” I add, as his hand slips down to cup my ass, drawing me against where he’s already hard, proving I’m not the only one vulnerable to the chemistry between us.

“I will,” he says, his voice husky. “And I’ll mean it. For keeps.”

“Good,” I say.

It is good. It’s great.

And pretty soon, I could have everything I want, every dream for my life falling into place, save one…and who needs a husband anyway? As long as I have my girls and my freedom and a precious little one of my very own, I can’t imagine wanting for anything else.

Right?