Twin Babies with the Billionaire for Christmas

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rachel

I roll over and pull the covers over my head.

I’m wallowing, and I know it, but I don’t care. I push my greasy hair away from my face and snuggle down further into the blanket nest that I’ve made in the spare bed at Cara’s house.

Without a publishing house and with an agent who has told me to lie low and “stop fucking up”, I have had little to do except sleep, be sad, and then sleep again.

I press a hand to my belly. This isn’t how I want my child to live their life. I want their life to be full of purpose, joy, and comfort.

I think of all the mornings that I woke up as a young girl, knowing that my mom wasn’t home and that I needed to get up and prepare breakfast for me and for Danny, and get us ready to go to school. I sometimes felt like I had already raised a child because frankly, I had.

However, deep down I knew that raising my own baby without the complications of a dysfunctional family would be so different than how I remembered things for me and Danny when we were kids.

I had to admit that I had learned a lot about kids when I was taking care of Danny as well, and I felt equipped to the task of taking care of a small human, even though I hadn’t had family members with little kids or anything like that.

However, I was a little sad that this baby might not really know what a stable family life was like either. This was not the situation I had expected to find myself in when I discovered that I was pregnant. I had expected to be married, to have a house, to be able to afford daycare.

It felt like setting my child up for a fall from the start and I regretted my lack of common sense from time to time.

I think about Tristan for the umpteenth time. I have been stewing about our relationship ever since I got to Cara’s. I love him, but I don’t even know if that is enough anymore.

The fact remains that, since I met Tristan, I have been accused of being a whore by Denise, and now by the media. I have also lost the contract with my publishing house that I worked so hard to get, and I might have to find another agent as well.

I’m pregnant, alone, and have no money to pay my bills.

Things are not looking up.

And the hell of it all is that none of it is his fault.

The fact remains that I have worked with other famous people who welcomed me into their homes to interview them and learn about them before I wrote their stories. I had not slept with any of them. I hadn’t even been tempted to do so.

Tristan has been like some kind of Achilles’ heel for me. I find it almost impossible to tell him no. He always manages to convince me that my carefully thought-out plans are not as fun as the ones that he has come up with.

It doesn’t help that his ideas really are more fun than mine in most cases. Tristan is funny and he brings me out of my shell. He has allowed me to find out that I really like being in control in my life as well as in the bedroom and that I have been surrendering too much of myself to everyone around me for years.

I miss him terribly, but I also don’t want his plans for me to cloud my judgment. Cara said that his PR team is working on squashing the stories, and I’m grateful for that much, at least.

I really don’t enjoy seeing some of our most intimate, honest moments being paraded around social media like a joke.

How on earth had those images been captured anyway? Who had told the scandal rag press to start paying attention to us? It didn’t make sense. We hadn’t been that public with our connection, and we had both assumed that if the press saw us together, they would know it was just due to the book.

I had figured that I had about two more months before I would start showing and have to come clean to my agent and my publisher. By then, I had been hoping that the book would be poised to be prepped for print, and they would both have simply tutted at me and moved on.

However, as with my luck in all areas of life, I did not have good luck in this case.

I think about the upcoming bill for Danny’s care and feel sick. He has a small fund from our grandfather that we use to pay for his basic care, but it’s never enough to cover all of the bills.

“Maybe I need to find a different job,” I say out loud, my voice muffled by the blankets. If I got something soon, I would be able to get maternity leave with pay probably.

But what kind of job could I get on such short notice during the holidays? Maybe I could find some kind of seasonal work at a clothing store or something.

I used to work at a Starbucks during college, but there’s no way they are hiring right around Christmas when things are crazy busy. Plus, no one would want to take the time to train someone new during the holiday rush.

I flop over onto my side and look at my social media for a few moments before everyone’s Christmas cheer depresses me and I close the app.

I decide to call my brother to ask him what he wants to do for Christmas. It seems only fair to ask him since we will be on our own again now.

“Hey, sis,” he says to me as he picks up the call.

“Hey,” I say back. “What are you up to?”

“Drawing,” he says back.

Danny’s phone skills are often like this. He is just going to answer questions without expanding his ideas, but that’s okay. I don’t honestly feel up for any kind of conversation that is more advanced than that.

“What do you want to do for Christmas this year?” I ask.

Danny is silent for a moment, then he says, “We already have plans. We’re going to Tristan’s house.”

I bite my lip. How to break the news to Danny that we aren’t going to be spending Christmas with Tristan? Frankly, I don’t think we are going to be spending any significant amount of time around Tristan ever again.

“Um,” I say, thinking about my words carefully. “I’m not sure that Tristan can host us now. Will you be upset?”

“He said you might say that,” Danny says matter-of-factly into the phone.

I draw back and pull the phone away from my ear, staring at it like it might be able to give me answers. “He told you what?” I ask, forgetting how Danny communicates.

“I just said that Tristan said…”

“I’m sorry, I heard you,” I cut him off. “Did Tristan call you?”

“Yep,” Danny says. “He called me this morning. He said he would still come and get me for Christmas Eve if I wanted. I can stay with him with a care provider until Christmas morning. He said you might not be there.”

I want to be angry, but instead, I’m sort of hurt. I know that I haven’t answered any of his calls or texts over the past couple of days, but I had good reason to want to hide out.

I wasn’t even that annoyed when he sent me his most recent text, which just said, “Fine. Don’t act like an adult.”

But going behind my back to ask Danny what he wanted to do for Christmas and making plans with him feels like a step too far.

“Thanks for telling me that, Danny,” I tell my brother. “I will support whatever decision you make.”

“Thanks,” he says back. “I’m going to see Tristan. You should come.”

I want to cry and laugh at the same time.

“Look, let me call you back later,” I tell my brother. “I need to go talk to Tristan.”

“Okay,” Danny says, then, “Be nice to him, okay? He likes you.”

This gives me pause and I stare at the phone screen which just shows Danny’s name and number at the moment.

“Sis?” Danny asks when I’ve been quiet for too long.

“I’m here,” I say quickly. “Sorry, you just…surprised me is all.”

“Why?” Danny asks.

I thought about brushing this part of the conversation off but then changed my mind. “I didn’t think Tristan cared about me that much at all, honestly.”

I think that Tristan likes my company, and he likes spoiling me. He also likes fucking me…a lot. But none of that means he actually cares about me .

However, I haven’t seen any indication that I am anymore or less special than anyone else in his life. Tristan is a lone wolf, and he seems to like it that way. It also doesn’t give me confidence knowing that he hasn’t ever had one serious relationship as an adult.

“Oh, he thinks you are the best,” Danny says, sounding happy to impart useful information. “He told me so when we talked. He said that he loved you and that he hoped that you would let him someday. I told him I wasn’t sure what he meant and he just laughed and said that was okay.”

He said he loves me ? I feel like someone has hit me over the head with a piano.

He wouldn’t tell Danny something like that if he didn’t mean it. He might be many things, but Tristan definitely isn’t the kind to manipulate someone like my brother to get into my good graces.

“Thanks for telling me that,” I say to Danny. “I need to go now. Talk soon.”

“Bye, sis,” he says before we hang up.

I lay in my nest of blankets and try to figure out if what my brother had said was right or not. Danny doesn’t lie. He simply isn’t capable. Tristan had to have told him that. Which means that it’s the truth.

I look at my phone. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I can spend it wallowing in bed, greasy and pathetic, or I can put on my big girl panties and figure this mess out.

With that decided, I swing my legs out of bed and hustle to the shower. I look at myself in the mirror and make a face. I look awful.

Time to wash this mopey, greasy version of Rachel Smith down the drain for good.