Baby Daddy Next Door

Chapter Three

Ava woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a very big truck.

Her mouth was dry, her head was pounding, and every muscle below her waist—and apparently the rest of her body—had filed a formal complaint about all the decisions she had made in her life, especially the ones she'd made last night.

She stayed perfectly still, hoping that if she didn't move, the headache might somehow get bored and leave.

It didn't.

Ava squeezed her eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep.

Then a thought popped into her head.

Wait.

Her eyes flew open.

The ceiling was wrong.

Very wrong.

There wasn't anything particularly wrong with it. In fact, it was a very nice ceiling. Smooth white surface, recessed lighting, and some expensive-looking light fixture she couldn't identify without getting out of bed and risking her life.

But it wasn't her ceiling.

Ava sat up so quickly that her head immediately punished her for it.

“Ow.”

She pressed a hand to her forehead and looked around.

Heavy grey curtains covered most of the windows, although thin strips of morning sunlight had found their way around the edges. The sheets beneath her were ridiculously soft, the kind that made you wonder if normal people were even supposed to sleep on them. They smelled faintly of clean laundry and something expensive.

Ava frowned.

Then she felt the space beside her shift.

She slowly turned her head.

Oh.

My.

God.

A man.

Not just any man.

A very big man.

The stranger from last night was lying beside her, completely unconscious, his dark hair a mess against the pillow. One arm was stretched above his head while the sheet rested low across his back.

Ava stared at him.

Then last night's activities started flashing through her mind.

The club.

The drinking.

The way he'd looked at her.

The eating out in the car.

The frantic run to the elevator.

The hot kisses.

The Hickeys.

The bite marks.

The size of his—

“Okay.”

Ava squeezed her eyes shut.

Nope.

She was not going there.

Not at eight in the morning.

Not with a hangover.

And definitely not while lying naked beside a man whose last name she didn't know.

“How the f**k did you follow a stranger home?” she screamed inwardly.

Her eyes opened again.

“What if he was a serial killer?”

She looked at the sleeping man.

He certainly had the build for it.

Ava swallowed.

“Julia and Kitler will be all alone.”

Her eyes widened.

“And then Kitler will love Julia and forget me.”

The thought was horrifying.

“Never.”

She almost said it aloud.

Fortunately, she caught herself before waking the potential serial killer.

Well, she hadn't been murdered.

That was a relief.

At least she wouldn't have to explain this to God if there really was an afterlife.

Hi, God. Sorry about the whole dying thing. I followed a stranger home because he had nice eyes.

Yeah.

Not her finest moment.

Ava decided, thinking about it, wasn't going to get her out of the apartment.

She needed to leave.

Immediately.

“Okay, Ava,” she whispered to herself. “First things first. Get off the bed.”

She pushed herself upright and immediately regretted it.

Her entire body protested.

She sucked in a breath and grabbed the edge of the mattress before slowly setting her feet on the cold floor.

“Okay.”

She waited for the discomfort to settle.

“Very okay.”

She nodded to herself.

“Good job, Ava.”

She could practically hear Julia saying it in that annoyingly encouraging voice of hers.

Then she remembered something even more important.

She needed to call Julia.

Her eyes widened.

“Shit.”

She had completely forgotten about her.

The sooner she got out of this apartment, the sooner she could call her best friend and confirm that she was still alive.

Preferably before Julia called the police.

Ava looked down.

She was completely naked.

She glanced at the sleeping man.

Still asleep.

Good.

She stood and began searching for her clothes.

Her dress was lying near the window.

Calling it a dress at this point was generous.

It looked like it had survived a short war.

One heel was beside the bed.

The other was nowhere in sight.

Her bra was hanging from the corner of a chair.

Her underwear was also missing.

Ava stared at the floor.

She had absolutely no idea where to begin looking for it.

She spotted her other heel poking out from underneath the bed.

“Thank you.”

She grabbed it.

The underwear could stay missing.

She had bigger problems.

Ava picked up her dress and tried pulling it on.

Then she froze.

A large tear ran down one side.

She stared at it.

“No.”

She checked again.

Definitely ripped.

“Great. Just great.”

She held the dress against herself and looked toward the sleeping man.

“What am I supposed to do now? Walk outside looking like this?”

She imagined explaining it to a police officer.

No, officer. I wasn't attacked. I just made several questionable decisions.

Ava sighed.

She needed another option.

Her eyes wandered around the bedroom and landed on the stranger's wardrobe.

She crossed the room and opened it carefully.

Suits.

Lots of them.

Black.

Navy.

Grey.

More suits.

Ava stared.

She looked back at the sleeping man.

“I wonder what he uses all these suits for.”

She paused.

“Actually, it's none of my business.”

Her eyes moved along the shelves until she spotted a simple dark-grey T-shirt.

Perfect.

She grabbed it.

It was soft and oversized, falling comfortably past her hips when she pulled it over her head.

Ava looked down at herself.

“Borrowing.”

She nodded.

“I'm borrowing it.”

She wasn't stealing.

There was a difference.

Probably.

She gathered her bag and whatever other belongings she could find, then paused.

Something was wrong.

She looked toward the bedroom door.

Then back at the sleeping man.

She didn't know how to get out.

Ava's mouth fell open slightly.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

She had spent half the night following this man around without paying the slightest attention to where they were going.

She'd been too busy looking at his face.

And his body.

Mostly his body.

Now she had to navigate his entire apartment like she was playing a very expensive version of Where's Waldo?

Ava quietly opened the first door.

Bathroom.

Not just a bathroom.

A bathroom bigger than her bedroom.

There was a huge bathtub that looked suspiciously like a jacuzzi.

She stared at it for a second.

That thing could probably fit four people.

She shook her head.

“No.”

She closed the door.

Then she looked at the next one.

Living room, she hoped.

She opened it.

And stopped.

“Oh.”

The room was enormous.

A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, flooding the space with pale morning light. A massive cream-colored sofa curved around a glass coffee table, with sleek furniture arranged so perfectly that Ava felt like breathing too loudly might cost her money.

A chandelier hung from the high ceiling, made up of dozens of delicate glass pieces that caught the sunlight and scattered it across the room.

There was a fireplace along one wall, modern artwork above it, and enough space between the furniture to make Ava wonder if people actually lived here or simply walked around admiring their belongings.

She slowly turned in a circle.

“This man is rich-rich.”

She looked down at her borrowed T-shirt.

More reasons to leave.

Rich men were weird.

She was pretty sure she'd read something about rich people having a high divorce rate.

Or maybe that was celebrities.

Either way, she wasn't sticking around long enough to find out.

Ava started looking for the exit.

She spotted her purse on a chair.

“There you are.”

She hurried over, grabbed it and immediately checked her phone.

Twenty-three missed calls.

All from Julia.

Ava's eyes widened.

“Shit.”

She unlocked the screen.

She had completely forgotten to tell Julia where she was.

That would teach her to have a one-night stand.

Or at least to have one without remembering that other people existed.

Ava shoved her phone into her purse.

She needed to leave before she made things worse.

She walked around the corner, turned left, and—

There it was.

An elevator.

Ava nearly cried.

“Thank you, Jesus.”

She pressed the button.

The doors opened.

She stepped inside and looked back toward the apartment one last time.

Nothing.

No footsteps.

No deep voice asking where she was going.

The stranger was still asleep.

Perfect.

The doors began to close.

Ava smiled.

“Goodbye, stranger.”

She gave a tiny wave at absolutely nobody.

“Peace out.”

The elevator doors shut.

And Ava finally breathed.

She hailed a taxi outside and gave the driver her address.

As the car pulled away, she sank into the back seat and stared out the window.

She decided two things.

One, she was never drinking that much wine again.

Two, she was never following Julia to a club again.

Okay.

Maybe she would break the second rule.

Julia had a way of making terrible ideas sound like excellent ones.

But the first?

Absolutely.

The ride home felt longer than it should have.

Ava sat with her forehead against the window, watching California move past in the morning light. The city was already awake. People were heading to work. Coffee shops were opening. Cars filled the roads.

Normal people were starting normal days.

Ava sighed.

I'm late for work.

The thought came automatically.

She pictured her desk.

Her laptop.

The stack of tasks waiting for her.

The emails she would have to answer.

The meeting she'd probably have at ten.

Then she remembered.

She didn't have a desk anymore.

She didn't have a laptop waiting for her at work.

She didn't have a meeting.

She didn't have a job.

The thought landed so heavily that Ava actually sat up.

“Oh.”

Right.

The job.

The presentation.

The frozen laptop.

The wrong financial figures.

The ruined contract.

Her boss.

Getting fired.

Yesterday hadn't been some horrible dream she could sleep off.

She had actually lost her job.

The hangover suddenly seemed like the least of her problems.

When she reached her apartment, Ava paid the driver, climbed the stairs and unlocked her door.

Everything looked exactly as she'd left it.

Her little living room.

Her slightly crooked picture frame.

The mug she'd fought to keep.

Kitler was probably outside doing whatever mysterious things cats did when they weren't busy judging their owners.

And sitting near the sofa was the cardboard box containing what was left of her professional life.

Ava stared at it.

She dropped her bag beside the box.

Then she headed straight for her bedroom, changed out of the stranger's shirt and her ruined clothes, and went into the shower.

The hot water helped.

A little.

Ava stood beneath it longer than necessary, letting the water run over her face while she thought about everything.

She had screwed up.

She had lost her job.

She'd embarrassed herself in front of executives.

And last night, she'd gone home with a stranger whose name she could barely remember.

But she wasn't going to sit around feeling sorry for herself.

She was going to get another job.

Simple.

People get fired every day.

People lost jobs and found better ones.

People made mistakes.

People recovered.

She could recover.

Ava stepped out of the shower feeling slightly more determined.

She made coffee.

Made two pieces of toast.

Took a couple of painkillers for the headache she'd forgotten about while escaping the stranger's apartment.

Then she changed into something comfortable, pulled her laptop toward her and opened it.

The blank job-search page stared back at her.

Ava stared back.

“Okay.”

She cracked her knuckles.

Then her neck.

“This is fine.”

It was not fine.

But she wasn't going to tell the laptop that.

She opened her résumé.

She immediately regretted it.

The confident woman described on the screen sounded nothing like the woman sitting at her kitchen table in an oversized T-shirt, nursing a headache and trying to figure out how long her savings could keep her alive.

Results-driven media professional with proven expertise in—

Ava highlighted the sentence.

Delete.

Exceptional leadership and strategic communication skills—

Delete.

She stared at the blinking cursor.

“Maybe I don't need to sound like a corporate robot.”

She rewrote it.

Then deleted that too.

For the next several hours, Ava applied everywhere.

Media companies.

Advertising agencies.

Publishing firms.

Marketing department.

Places she'd heard of.

Places she'd never heard of.

One position wanted five years of experience for a salary that was barely enough to cover her rent.

Another wanted someone who could be a writer, editor, social media manager, graphic designer, photographer, marketing strategist and apparently the entire company.

Ava applied anyway.

She sent an application to a company whose website looked like it had been designed in 2007.

She sent another to a company that wanted a cover letter, portfolio, references, salary expectations and what felt suspiciously close to her entire life story.

By three in the afternoon, she'd sent twelve applications.

By four, she'd started checking her email every five minutes.

By four-thirty, she was dangerously close to having a nervous breakdown.

Her phone buzzed.

Julia.

Ava looked at the screen.

Damn.

She'd forgotten to call her.

The message read:

Status. Alive or did the hot stranger finish the job the presentation started? Because why the f**k aren't you picking my calls? I'm gonna file a missing person's report if you don't reply me.

Two minutes later, another message came in.

You don't just snub your best friend after a one-night stand.

Ava stared at the messages.

Despite herself, she smiled.

She typed:

Alive. Sore. Possibly a thief. I stole a T-shirt. No further questions at this time and I have been busy. I'll call you later, okay? Love you.

The reply came almost immediately.

Busy doing what? And wait, b***h! YOU STOLE HIS SHIRT???

Ava laughed.

Another message appeared.

I knew you had it in you. Proud of you, Bennett. And I love you too.

Ava shook her head.

She tossed the phone onto the table and looked at her laptop again.

The screen was painfully empty.

No new emails.

No interview invitations.

Nothing.

Ava leaned back in her chair.

She had no job.

No interview.

No plan beyond finding a job before the money runs out.

And that last part suddenly didn't sound as easy as she'd hoped.

She opened her banking app.

The number on the screen made her sit up straighter.

She checked it again.

Then opened her rent payment.

Electricity.

Credit card.

Student loan.

Phone bill.

Insurance.

Ava pulled out a calculator.

She started adding.

Her forehead slowly creased.

She added everything again.

Same result.

She leaned back.

Three months.

That was roughly how long she could keep everything running if she was careful.

Three months.

Ava stared at the ceiling.

“No.”

She shook her head.

“Nope.”

She closed the banking app.

She wasn't doing this.

She was going to get a job.

Soon.

She'd send more applications .

Ava picked up her laptop again.

She opened another job listing.

Then another.

She kept applying.

Because what else could she do?

She didn't know it yet, but losing her job hadn't just ruined one very bad week.

It had quietly pushed her life onto a completely different road.

And she was going to be on that road for a while.