Baby Matchmakers

The First Night In The Mansion

Amara thought she had seen big houses when she lived in Houston before. She had seen nice houses in Katy.

But she had never seen anything like David Anderson's mansion in River Oaks, Houston.

The gates alone were 12 feet tall with security cameras. Inside, there was a fountain. There was a garage with six cars - Tesla, Range Rover, G-Wagon. There was a swimming pool that looked like a resort in Miami. And the house? 10,000 square feet. All white and glass.

"Good evening, Mr. Anderson. Good evening, Ma'am," three housekeepers said.

Ma'am. Yesterday she was broke single mom Amara sharing a one-bedroom in Alief with a roommate. Today she was Ma'am in River Oaks.

"Ma'am?" she whispered to David.

"Ignore them. I told them my family is coming," David said. David Anderson - 32, Nigerian-American, tech billionaire from Austin who sold his app for $200 million.

Family. The word made her stomach flip.

Mia and Ethan were screaming with joy, crawling on the marble floor. "Etan! Mimi!"

David showed her around fast: "Kitchen - it has everything. Living room - don't worry. My home office - don't enter. This is YOUR room. This is Mia's room next to yours. Ethan's room. My room is upstairs, far from yours. So Rule Two is easy."

Amara opened her door and gasped. King-size bed like in Four Seasons Hotel. AC so cold. A bathroom with a bathtub she only saw on i********:. And a walk-in closet full of clothes?

"David, whose clothes are these?" she shouted.

He came back, Ethan on his hip. "I had my assistant from Nordstrom buy some things for you and Mia. Just basics. Nightgowns, dresses, baby clothes from Target and Zara. Your bag from your apartment... it's not enough."

Amara wanted to be angry. "You cannot buy me clothes! I am not a charity!"

"I know," he said quietly. "But you're living in my house now. I don't want you to feel small. Wear them or don't. Your choice."

Mia already found her pink room and was jumping on the bed shouting "Mine!"

That night, after eating takeout fried rice and peppered chicken, they went to their rooms.

10 PM. House silent. Too silent. Amara was used to noise - neighbors, traffic on Bellaire Blvd.

At 2 AM, Mia woke up crying loud. At the same time, Ethan started crying next door. Like they were connected by Bluetooth.

David appeared at her door wearing only grey sweatpants, no shirt, his chest bare, hair messy, holding crying Ethan. He looked exhausted. Not like a billionaire. Like a tired dad.

"They're doing it again," he said.

Amara was in her old nightgown from Walmart. Faded, with a small hole at the back near her waist she forgot about. Hair scattered, no makeup. Real.

"Come, let's take them to the nursery. If they see each other, they'll stop."

They sat on the floor of the big nursery - two cribs, toys worth thousands from sss, but no love until now.

"Do you remember when they were born?" Amara asked softly.

"Ethan was born in Memorial Hermann Hospital here in Houston," David said, low. "3 AM. His mom was screaming. I held her hand. He came out so small and didn't cry at first. I thought I lost him. Then he cried and I cried too. That was the last time I cried."

"Mia was born in Ben Taub Hospital," Amara whispered. "No husband. No mom. Just me and a kind Nigerian nurse who held my hand. I had no money for epidural. I pushed 6 hours. When she came out, she looked at me and stopped crying. Like she knew I was all she had."

They were quiet. Babies were quiet too, listening.

David looked at Amara - hair messy, eyes tired but beautiful, old nightgown with a small hole showing soft brown skin at her back. So real. So different from the i********: models in Houston who wanted him for money.

His chest cracked. Rule Three breaking.

Rule Three: No falling in love.

He was failing on Night One.

Mia slept on Amara's chest. Ethan slept on David's chest. Shoulders touching. Holding each other's babies.

"Amara," he said seriously, trying to not look.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, we need to buy you new nightgowns. That one has a hole at the back."

Amara FROZE. "You saw the hole! David! You were looking!"

"I saw NOTHING! I swear!" David's face turned red like tomato. Billionaire blushing like a teenage boy. "I just saw small skin! I didn't mean to!"

He almost ran out, tripping over toys with Ethan on his chest.

Amara stood in the dark nursery holding Mia, face hot, but laughing alone.

She whispered to Mia, "Girl, we are in trouble."

Outside in the hallway, David leaned against the wall, heart beating like a drum, whispering to sleeping Ethan,

"Son, don't tell anyone. But I think I like her. Little by little."

Upstairs, his mother - who flew in from Dallas and was watching on the security camera - dropped her wine glass.

"Finally," she whispered, calling her prayer group. "My son finally likes a real woman. And she already has a child. Perfect."

Downstairs, Amara looked in the mirror, touching the hole in her gown, whispering to herself,

"Amara, no. Rule Three. No falling in love. He's a billionaire from River Oaks. You're a junior staff from Alief. Don't be stupid."

But her heart wasn't listening to Rule Three anymore.

Her heart was listening to how he looked at her at 2 AM - like she was beautiful even in a torn gown.

And Mia and Ethan, even in sleep, were holding hands.

The 30-day contract was failing on Night One. 29 more nights to go.

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