Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,44

no electronics are allowed.

“Okay, then I don’t know why she’s back in college,” he says in a condescending tone.

“You don’t think she graduated?”

He’s silent and we begin to walk.

“What do you know?” I ask, catching up with him.

“She quit her freshman year of college,” he repeats. “Give me your email, and I’ll send you the entire file I received from my P.I.”

I want to continue fighting him, but my gut says he’s right. Callie is capable of deceiving us, and we’re too busy with our own lives to doubt her.

“No, we… See I can’t be a mother. We supported her for four years while she misled us.”

“She’s not your child, and you can’t compare her with your future children,” he says. “I just met you, but from what I’ve learned so far, I think that baby is lucky, and you’ll do great.”

“Doubtful,” I huff. “I’m unemployed, about to be homeless, and I’ll have to raise this kid on my own.”

“I could use you in my legal department. You can move into the penthouse that I own here, and you have a supportive family that loves you.”

“I need flexible hours.” Plus, my sister lives in his penthouse, and I don’t say that aloud because what if he kicks her out. I’d have to defend her in court and our friendship would be over.

“Well, then we have you in a consulting capacity, and I’ll make sure your insurance covers the maternity. You don’t even have to sell your house,” he insists, and I feel as if we’re trying to prove who is the most stubborn of the two of us.

We could discuss my future for hours, but I decide to be the bigger person or the one who ends this discussion with a good note. “I can use the friend but not the micromanaging,”

He stops walking, turns to look at me, and smiles. “Sorry,” he apologizes and grabs my hand, we resume our walk. “It’s not micromanaging but trying to help you. Like you, I’m a problem solver. The way I look at it, it’s a simple fix. You’re right though, everyone reacts and needs different things. I’m here for you in any capacity. The invitation to go to Seattle is open.”

Eighteen

Nyx

I expected Nate to leave for Seattle after our walk. Instead, he takes off the light jacket he was wearing and sits on the couch.

“Okay, walk me through your options,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you’ve been working on a plan. I just want to listen to what you have in mind and be…” he scratches his chin. “A devil’s advocate.”

“I don’t know if I should laugh or take you seriously with that arrogant smile,” I say, but I grab my stuff and sit right next to him.

While I show him my calendar, the timelines, and the ideas I have to try to make a living, he focuses on my every word, but grabs a pencil to make some notes. More like puts initials in certain places.

“I should have a good nest egg by April twelfth. If I can, I’ll take a month or two of maternity leave. By then I’ll be able to continue what I’ve been doing,” I finish.

“What are you doing with the baby once you’re back to work?”

“I’ll hire a part-time person to help me for a few hours and pray that the baby sleeps,” I say, hopeful. “What are the holes?”

“It’s all based on probabilities, and if one thing goes wrong, we have to have a fallback,” he suggests. “If this Pierce guy has cases, if Persy has work… Those are way too many risks because what if they don’t have anything solid for months. I think you should start a small firm. Brassard & Associates. You hire lawyers that can take the load when you’re on maternity leave.”

“Remember the part where I can’t afford to take that big step,” I remind him and add, “And I refuse to either get a loan or accept loans from friends.”

“How about an investor?”

“It’s a law firm. Things work differently,” I clarify. “Thank you for trying to help though. I’m sure Persy will have something. I mean, she’s been pushing me to be her agent.”

He frowns and nods. “That’s perfect. Sheila could work for Persy, raise her kids, and even plot on how to steal millions of dollars from her. You can do at least the first two things and have the side jobs for a rainy day.”

When he points at September twenty-eighth on the calendar, I stare