Baby Daddy

Chapter Fourteen

Randall lives on the sixth floor of a ten story building that can be easily mistaken for an A-list hotel only meant for celebrities and socialites. The hotel is right in the middle of the city and unlike the bustling street, it is serene and beautiful on the inside. There is a guard stationed in and outside the building, both immaculately dressed in black and green uniforms. A red carpet stretches from the sidewalk straight into the foyer, leading to the elevators.

When I step on the red carpet, I can't help but feel lavish and important - like I actually belong here.

This must be how Maddie feels when walking the runaway. Its exhilarating.

My breath catches in my throat as I tilt my head up, staring at the ceiling. Its beautiful, and dark, with red and white thorn roses pulling out to every corner.

I have been to many places but this certainly makes my head spin. And I'm going to be living here, its almost hard to believe. Surreal, like a dream.

Well, f**k my life.

I stumble around as workers push and weave about, side stepping me. They carry around bags upon bags and boxes. It only takes a second for me to adjust and recall that those are my things that are being moved.

Everyone here knows Randall by name. It's no surprise. After all he is the first born son and heir to the Michaelson empire.

Its hard to recognize him as he smiles and chats with nearly everyone coming his way.

"This is Kira," He'd said to them earlier. He had his left hand on my lower back, eyes filled with laughter as he spoke.

Of course, I would have laughed at their shell shocked expressions. . .if I wasn't too caught up in my head.

I find myself lost after that, chasing my train of thoughts, and hold my breath too long.

My heart drums in my ears. The walls feel like they're closing in on me and when someone nudges me on the shoulder, the ground quakes and sways around me.

This can't be happening.

Pressing my eyes shut, I ground my jaw and take a deep breath.

And as I open my eyes, looking around, everything seems normal.

Living with Randall is not so different from being alone.

He's at work most of the day - wakes up at the c***k of dawn and comes back, well, in the late hours. And since I quite my job, I had nothing more in the world than time for my mind.

Time seems to be in no rush when you have nothing to do. I often wonder how Randall has managed to live alone for this long. In such a big place, mind you.

I tour the house on my second day, after spending the previous day laying in bed, doing absolutely nothing.

I got up a few times, but just couldn't get myself to do anything useful. I'd stand up, get something to chew on and simply get back into bed again.

Out of three bedrooms, Randall designates me the one next to his, opposite the bathroom. Right up a flight of stairs, unfortunately.

Two days later, I finally master enough energy to start unpacking my things. My heart bleeds when I come across something I either wore or touched when I was pregnant.

Pregnant, I laugh, now there's a miracle you don't get everyday.

I cradle the piece of clothing against my chest and cry. I wonder what he would do if he finds me in this fetal position. Probably nothing. Why would he care anyway?

I find pleasure in taking walks to Maddie and I's apartment in the following days. It's refreshing and peaceful.

And whenever I feel weak and things get too hard, I pop a pill or two into my mouth.

Soon enough, it doesn't bother me as much.

A week goes by and one Wednesday morning, I force myself out of bed, acting on behalf of my full bladder.

Crazy enough I hear voices downstairs.

Ignorantly, I tighten the muscles in my abdomen and skid across the room in my socks.

By the time I come out of the bathroom, its silent. Maybe I am losing my mind.

Must be a side effect. I probably shouldn't have drank so much either.

Overwhelmed by nausea, I stumble a little and wound up balancing my weight against the wall as I head downstairs. For the briefest moment, my chest tightens and It feels as though I'm going to explode.

I feel better after taking deep, steady breaths. It's probably just heartburn, I tell myself as I tread down the stairs.

I'm taken aback when I enter the pristine kitchen. A tall, broad shouldered man has his back towards me, a graciously manicured hand moving from his neck and shoulder.

I frown, squinting my eyes, "Randall?"

Even with his head bent down, I can tell who that big head of brown hair belongs to.

But what if it's not him? My eyes widen, a deep, guttural moan telling me otherwise and his muscles tense.

He turns around and I swear he's blushing. He has a girl over.

I want to laugh instantly but when his widen, staring me up and down, I get annoyed.

"Kira," he says, breathlessly, eyes still wide with surprise. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

And you're supposed to be at work. I almost say it but bite my tongue and turn for the fridge instead.

He stops me, arms wide open as he blocks the way.

He's so close, I can smell a tinge of cocoa on him. Randall looks down at the space between us and quickly averts his gaze above my head.

"Get out of my way, Randall."

"You're naked," he breathes, a crease forming between his eyebrows. I want to reach up and fix that for him, but I fist my hand.

"What? This is what I always wear." I joke, posing with my hand on my waist and knee popped out. At least I have underwear on, uncoordinated with a loose bra.

"Hey, Kira." Comes a honeyed voice.

Just like that Fiona steps out of Randall's shadow, beaming.

I don't know whether to be surprised or suspicious.

I think she reads my mind and her beautiful smile couldn't get any bigger. I see her short hair as grown. She's casually dressed in chino shorts and a white blouse, though she looks taller than the last time I'd seen her. I look down and bam, heels. Classy woman.

"I just came to give you this," she says.

She looks up at Randall and takes a step closer holding a creme envelope with a weird crested stamp on it.

Shit.

The last time I got an envelope, I ended up pregnant.

Randall clears his throat.

"I'll leave you two alone." He says glancing at his gold wrist watch. His voice is unusually soft, its uncomfortable. "I have to get to work."

Randall leaves the apartment while I stare at the envelope, skeptical.

My hand freezes, fingers wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle when I open the fridge. Fiona. f**k.

I take the orange juice instead and when I turn around there she is. She rings her hands together.

"The company just scored a major client and I wanted to invite you personally," she says.

My heart aches the longer I ignore her.

"If you don't have anything to wear, we can go shopping," she says, amber eyes glowing with despair.

"It's nothing personal Fiona." I start, "I'm just not in a partying mood."

With that said, I snatch a wine glass from the cabinets and I'm about to leave the kitchen when she says something I have been denying myself.

"I could use a friend."

I tense up and my shoulders are hunched as I turn around in shame and guilt.

Me too, is what I should tell her. Fionna desperately tries to smile through the sadness.

My eyes burn and when I smile, she takes it as an answer and squeals with joy, practically jumping out of her shoes.

"I'd like a friend too." I finally say. "God knows the Michaelson's are a pain in the ass."

She groans, hands clasped and beams. "Oh, tell me about it."

I laugh for the first time in days.

"I'm gonna go change." Or in this case, put some clothes on.

Regardless Fiona's eyes widen and she vigorously nods.

Oddly enough, guilt gnaws at my insides as I race up the stairs to my room, warning me against this but this could turn out really well.

Maybe this is what I need.

A friend.

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