Crazy for Loving You A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy - Pippa Grant Page 0,64

He’s a people. He’s just a small people.”

“I cracked my egg baby in health class in high school. Plus, I’m a little inappropriate for the under-twenty-five set, you know? But I feel this…connection with him. Like he needs me, except I’m terrified I’m going to break him and I don’t think a baby can live off hugs for his entire life. Like, I need to feed him and wash him and teach him to talk.”

And not fuck up so badly that my grandmother takes him from me, fires me, and disowns me.

I’m not actually kidding that the thought of losing Remy is more important to me than the thought of being disinherited.

I’m starting to feel like someone to the little guy, but…it could all go away.

In an instant.

“I read somewhere when I was researching the effects of high-speed travel on humans that babies are more durable than we think,” Cam offers. “But you’re still not supposed to drop them on their heads.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s just like taking care of a dog,” Luna says. “Put out food and water, pet them some, toss them a ball, make sure they get plenty of time to do their business in the yard, and they’ll grow to love you unconditionally.”

“So that’s where my parents went wrong.”

Oh, hell.

And now I’m fighting a smile as my three friends crack up at the idea of raising Remy the Dog Man.

Because they’re right.

We’re going to get through this. They have my back, and they will, even after West leaves.

My heart rolls over and pangs, because despite how little I’ve seen him this last week, I like him. And not in a we should have a weekend fling in Bermuda kind of way.

But in a he could be one of my closest friends, if I knew how to be real friends with anyone other than these three, kind of way.

“Maybe you and Beck should wait a few years before kids,” Emily says to Luna, and we all erupt in giggles again.

“Oh! Oh, you guys! I have pictures. Do you want to see pictures?” I dive for my purse, my exhaustion forgotten as I remember the best part of parenting.

The baby smiles.

And Remy has the cutest baby smile.

I’m flashing photos on my phone when Lady Raquel returns with a round of pink drinks in margarita glasses. “Food coloring,” she whispers with a wink. “The name and the disguise make tequila in the morning more acceptable. Oooh! Baby! And who is that handsome hunk of a man?”

“I really need to see Jude holding a baby like that,” Cam sighs dreamily.

“Total ovary-melter,” Emily agrees. “When Derek plays with his nieces and nephews, I can barely stop myself from jumping his bones right there.”

“That’s how I feel about Beck and the dogs.” Luna’s smile is so sappy and sweet that she manages to outshine Cam and Emily together, which is an impressive feat.

It’s not often I feel lonely with my friends, but they all have their someones.

And I have a baby I barely feel competent with, a social worker coming soon to make sure he’s safe since the Rodericks are calling both me and West unfit parents, pressure from my grandmother because Remy is all she has left of Julienne—yes, she’s obnoxious, but she does care in her own way—and a very familiar tingling in my cooch and nips every time West knocks on my door with Remy for a handoff.

“West preps the diaper bag every morning,” I blurt. “And he leaves little notes about milestones and Remy’s mood and how many times he was up overnight on his nights, and I feel like I’m missing half of Remy’s life and I want to ask him if we can do more stuff together, but I don’t know how to be a normal person who has a guy as a friend.” I leave out the part about our agreement that he’s temporary.

“You don’t be friends with men who look like that. Not unless you’re getting benefits,” Lady Raquel says sagely.

All four of the romance authors are leaning toward us.

“Plot twist,” coffee lady whispers.

“Total blow job in waiting,” Blue Glasses says loudly.

Taco author nudges her. “Shh!”

“Thank god I’m not alone,” the unicorn says. “Lady Raquel! We need some of those pink drinks.”

“For inspiration,” the taco author agrees as she pulls out a laptop.

“Maybe you should try the blow job,” Luna tells me. “Could a blow job ever make anything worse?”

“It never has before.” We clink glasses.

And I remember that I’ve promised West I’ll quit hitting