Britney

In Mexico, I’d thought I’d sipped some untreated water without meaning to. Nausea hit me every time I touched my cosmopolitans, but when we returned, I realized my period never had.

I held my head up, avoided the test for another week, and just assumed I was late from travel or recent sex. Every time the fear hit me, I reminded myself that condoms worked, and I stayed late in the office.

However, I stayed home one day to confirm that my questions were unfounded, and my life was staying exactly the same. My heart was racing as I waited for the results after peeing on the stick. Pregnant wasn’t good or planned if the test was positive. Michael wasn’t into me.

No one knew the real me.

No one wanted to know the real me. I glanced at my phone as the minute passed. Michael’s cute British accent had gotten to me as he was my opposite. He was reserved, polite… and the picture-perfect guy I would never really have.

We were fun.

The minute was over. I paced to my bedroom window as waiting had never been my strong suit, and soon, my alarm went off. I squared my shoulders and marched in to my bathroom sink to read the news. Everything was going to be fine.

Fuck. The plus sign meant I was positive.

I froze, unsure whether to believe the results. I headed back to my bedroom and curled my hands at my sides.

The test had to be wrong.

Mistakes happen. We were always safe.

However, I needed to be sure. My entire body grew cold, but I called my doctor’s office and made an appointment for the next day.

Minutes continued to tick forward. Staying at home was tantamount to driving myself crazy, so I dressed and headed to work.

For a few hours, I was focused and not thinking about myself. After lunch, my friends texted about happy hour, but I claimed I was still sick. They were going to come the following day to drag me out if I continued to skip our after-work cocktail hours.

I would’ve gone to find them too.

As work was almost over, Michael texted, Can I come over?

No, I wrote as I rushed out of the office. From then on, I wasn’t a booty call anymore. I needed to be smart.

If I was pregnant, my life wasn’t good except for my portfolio. I had saved enough if I left Manhattan and settled somewhere safe, somewhere no one knew me. I headed to my laptop and looked up real estate. If I went home to North Carolina, I could have a brand-new home with every modern convenience, and maybe my parents had forgiven me for not protecting my older sister.

They’d not been that horrible, but at this point, with my drinking, swearing and desire for money, I was probably a lost cause.

Fuck. If a baby was coming, then I had a chance to do everything right.

The next day, I met with my doctor before heading into the financial company where I was managing director. A meeting was planned for that day, so I was wearing my black Prada business suit with high heels.

If I was fine, I was going to slay at the meeting. And I would move up to vice president.

For the time being, I couldn’t think about that. I checked in, nodded at the nurse, and waited in my seat. She sent me to blood work right away, and I was in a daze.

Chitchat with the phlebotomist wasn’t going to happen. I stared at the wall as they did their test and thought my life in Manhattan was pretty fucking great. My mind was racing with how I spent hours proving I was better than the Ivy League graduates at making money for the company.

The truth was I loved showing those slack-jawed men in suits how a girl from the country with no real background was smarter and faster at everything.

I was directed into a back room and waited. The air was icy, but the door soon opened—time for answers.

I cupped my belly and asked the nurse, “So am I pregnant?”

“I’ll let you talk to the doctor.”

“You read the results. My at-home test said yes.”

“Believe it.”

Fuck me. I was pregnant.

Time to quit. Time to get a new life. Time to tell Michael.

The doctor spoke to me, but I wasn’t sure what was happening. Listening certainly wasn’t happening. Soon, I left and headed home.

Work could get along without me at that meeting.

My life as I knew was done. I’d changed everything about myself to be who I was at present.

The time had come to figure out what would happen if I let the lies I’d been living disappear and changed everything about myself once again.

As I walked, I realized I needed to quit my job first. After I let myself into my apartment, I tossed all my wine bottles and contacted a realtor.

North Carolina was getting a plus two soon.

All that was left was to tell the truth. I picked up my phone, ignoring all the texts from my friends who knew I’d seen a doctor, and texted Michael, Can we meet for coffee? I’ll buy, but we need to talk.

Then I spoke to the realtor again about how I wanted a brand-new home in a cul de sac, with a fence.

Michael knew nothing about the real me. No one knew Britney Ford was, in truth, Britney Smith from Ayden or that my parents were Betty and Rob and my older sister was Ava. I’d left all of them behind.

Once upon a time, I’d thought older sisters protected little ones, but I turned out to be a failure as a bratty teenager.

Now, I needed to be a mom. And I hoped I would be better at it then I’d been at being a sister.

As I hung up, I read Michael’s text: I can meet at eleven.

That was in twenty minutes. He probably had a lunch break from his butlering.

If I was having a boy and he looked like Michael, he’d get all the girls. If I was having a girl—I winced. I wasn’t ready to even think about that. I couldn’t serve a baby wine to get her to talk.

I changed into a simple smocked Proenza Schouler maxi dress that showed off my boobs and flattered the rest of me as my belly bloat was now cushion for the baby, which was why my snug pants weren’t fitting, and headed out the door.

I needed to be honest though I expected nothing from Michael. He would bail on me. We’d made no promises other than a good time for the past few months.

I rushed and arrived early. My heart was racing as I took a seat. Then I ordered my herbal tea and sat facing the wooden door.

He had twenty minutes in his schedule.

As he walked in, my heart raced. I took a deep breath and realized my child had great genes, at least. His father was tall, muscular, and his thick light-brown, almost blond hair framed his sweet face, and my body purred despite how he was pressing his lips together at the moment.

The second he joined me, I kissed his cheeks like we were friends and said, “Michael, I’m glad you’re meeting me for tea.”

A waiter brought him a black tea with the milk and sugar cubes on the side. He also left a tray of snacks for tea time and left.

Michael tugged his white shirt collar and said, “I was surprised we were going out in public this time. You’ve repeatedly said no when I asked you.”

I didn’t remember that. I sipped my tea and stared at him. He was the only guy I’d wanted to date since the moment we met. As a butler, he wore designer clothes. He’d have fit in at my bank’s functions except for his profession. The promotion I’d thought I wanted, which had been stopping me from ever letting things with Michael get too far, seemed pointless.

I put his clothes back in the file of mysteries I would never ask him about, shrugged, and said, “I never wanted my boss to know, but it’s going to be impossible to hide now, and besides, I’m quitting.”

His blue eyes seemed puzzled as he asked, “Why, what happened? Did you get a better job or get an offer as a partner somewhere else?”

I sat up. We weren’t friends, and his concern about me made me tense. Needing a few seconds, I swirled my herbal tea and added a pinch of lemon. Then I met his blue eyes and said, “I called you here to tell you… This isn’t so easy… But you’re going to be a father.”

His eyes widened. “Say it again.”

My breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t expected him to take the wind out of my sails with those sexy, refined good looks of his and perfect manners. I squared my shoulders and said, “It’s honorable to tell you. I’m pregnant.”

He pressed his hand to his heart. “And it’s mine?”

There it was—the denial, the start of the end. Most people assumed that my mouth and my attitude of taking what I wanted indicated I was easy.

I folded my hands, glared at him, and said, “Despite the rumors, I don’t sleep with just anyone.”

“I believe you…” Michael said in that cute British tone of his that carried both judgment and shame. “But we’re not—“

“I’m not looking for anything from you,” I said and moved my chair back because we were done and the real world was folding in on me. I lifted my chin and assumed I’d never see him again. “I just thought you needed to know that I’m pregnant and I’m keeping it, no matter what.”

He folded his hands on the table and stared at me. “Britney, I can’t talk about it in public, but we need to talk tonight because there are things about me that I’ve not told you.”

My heart needed to not hope for anything. Nothing he could tell me would change my plans. We were done. The next day, I would write my official resignation, put my condo on the market, and be out of Manhattan soon. For the moment, I sipped my water. He was right that I needed to know his medical history and anything relevant that had happened in his family, which he’d never spoken about. I met his gaze and decided he was right—better to end our fling in private.

I moved my chair closer to the table and nodded. “Okay. Come to my apartment at six if you think Charlie will let you out early.”

“Fuck Charlie. I’ll be there.”

My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected that outburst. I’d not known what to expect as Michael had never shared more than his hard body with me. We both stood as I said, “See you tonight, then.”

Then he hugged me and left money for the bill.

His arms around me were warm and safe and, for a moment, nice in that fleeting moment. Michael was gorgeous, neat, and always put together. If he’d not been a butler when I was focused on my corporate job plans, I’d have considered dating him, but that was impossible. I’d been stupid to ignore my heart’s desire to learn more about him.

And I hated regrets. Soon, I would have to face what life was going to be like as a single mom and merge the old me with the new no-nonsense me. I walked out of the restaurant, keeping my head high.

On my way out, my phone beeped. Since I’d told Michael, I texted my friends in the chat, I can’t meet for drinks anymore. I’m pregnant.

Hope wrote back first: WTF. Who’s the father?

I clutched the phone and stepped backward. I didn’t want to get him fired as he’d sneaked out of the house during work hours whenever I’d called for him to come meet me. I shook my head and replied, Doesn’t matter. I’m going to put my condo up for sale soon, but first let’s all meet.

As I stepped into my one-bedroom condo, I gazed around. Everything was marble and hard edges, which was exactly what I’d thought I was.

Since I knew I had a baby though, I cringed. None of my life was good.

My phone beeped, and my downstairs doorbell rang. I read a message from Kelly: Let me in.

I laughed. School must have been a half day at her place. I hit the button to buzz her in then took off my shoes and placed them in my closet, which was based on a life I’d decided to get for myself from watching too much TV as a kid. Except for the closet, I needed to stop pretending to be Samantha from Sex in the City and maybe become more like a Charlotte.

Kelly knocked on the door, and I let her in. She bounced in with her straight brown hair in a ponytail and her sharp hazel eyes, clearly not caring about the paint stains on her bargain jeans.

She said, “So you’re pregnant, which means I get my new goddaughter at my school.”

I laughed and waved for her to come in. In another life, maybe I would’ve stayed in Manhattan and pretended I was someone in society, not the nobody from nowhere that I was. As we sat, my feet uncurled, and I said, “I’m going to leave Manhattan.”

“Why would you do that? You have a life here. You have friends.”

“My work isn’t going to let up because I need time off.” I rubbed my eyes. “The rat race never ends, if I’m honest, and I need to be done.”

The twenty-one-year-olds with something to prove were finally going to stop my upward motion to vice president. From then on, I couldn’t go twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week anymore, being available for client calls all the time.

“And I’ve been working and saving for this religiously as I knew not many people make it past thirty-five in my job.”

“You’re not religious about anything except cosmopolitans. So who’s the guy?”

“I can never talk about that,” I said quickly. Wanting to protect him if I could, I changed the topic back to myself. “I’m honestly in a state of shock.”

“Well, you have cash, and I’m sure you can move your job to the Norouzi finance world as they’ve repeatedly offered you a position.”

“I’m not using Hope and Avril’s new fiancés to land a job I can get on my own.”

Kelly pointed and smiled. “That’s my girl, but that’s also why they want you.”

“Fuck.” I closed my eyes. “Honestly, I’d rather stay here and somehow make it work with friends than go home, but I feel this need in my soul to see my family. If they want nothing to do with me, it’s fine. I handle rejection well.”

“Maybe it’s not that bad.” Kelly patted my arm like I was a child as she asked, “And there’s no hope with the father of this child, who could help?”

He was penniless and poor, just like I’d been when I was Britney Smith. I doubted he would want to take a job as a full-time father. We certainly didn’t know each other well.

I shook my head and said, “I’m hopeless, Kelly.”

When someone knocked on the door, Kelly bounced up. “The others are here.”

We went to let Hope, Miley, Avril, and Isabel in, but then my heart beat faster when I met the blue-eyed gaze of the man of the hour instead. I clutched my belly and said, “Michael, you’re early.”

Kelly tapped on her lips and said, “Michael Fuller… Hope’s butler.”

She knew. That was fine. Maybe she could help me explain it to our friends so that he wouldn’t be fired or anything.

I took her hand and said, “Kelly, you need to keep this quiet.”

She gazed at both of us and said, “Well I’ll head off the rest of them downstairs, but you need to join us in the bar in an hour. Miley won’t let us stay away that long.”

Miley was usually the silent, analytical one who figured everything out.

Kelly was the kind one with a good heart and sometimes dirty mouth. I waited for her to leave.

Michael put his hands in his pockets and said, “So your friends now know.”

I’d wanted to include him in my life and it seemed he was indeed included.

I crossed my arms and said, “You’re never early.”

I let him unfold my hands, and a spark still rushed through me at the fact that he was mine, even for the fleeting time we had.

Then he said, “I need you to sit down.”

I winked at him and sashayed back to my couch, saying, “With our clothes on. New experiences every time with you.”

He joined me and gently pressed my wrist. “Very funny.”

When he opened up, he was less stiff and much sexier than he was being then. “I wasn’t joking.” He lifted his chin and said, “Are you intending to have my heir?”

That British accent of his still sent a thrill down me, but I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Heir? I don’t want my baby to inherit a vacuum.”

He froze like the truth had slapped him, and I cringed inwardly. I had no right to hurt him, and honestly, he was the only guy I thought was sexy as fuck. I was a bad person all around. Then he took my hand, and I honestly thought that if he kissed me, the usual steam would come right back.

Then he said, “He won’t. Charlie knows… all the Norouzi family are in on my secret, but it’s time you understand too.”

I narrowed my gaze. It wasn’t like anyone ever pulled anything over me as I asked, “What are you saying?”

As he spoke, every sound was crisp. “That I’m Michael Fuller, the heir to the Duke of Fairdall.”

My hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I took my hand back. Honestly, I preferred he be poor and cute, with that accent. I would’ve hated to lump him into “Eurotrash,” as my parents would say, which was basically the Europeans who come to America, use our system to their own benefit, not contribute to society at all, then ditch while looking down their noses at America and all Americans. I quickly shook the thought away. His having money didn’t change his character.

I choked out, “Heir?”

He was unreadable as he said, “Yes. I’m currently the Marquis of Barkley until my father leaves this world.”

I stood and paced. Normally, when I needed to deal with a problem, I figured out what the client needed, listen to objections, and when they were ready, we discussed the financials to serve their desires. Michael’s announcement threw everything out of whack.

“I thought you were a butler,” I said.

“I am a butler.”

Okay. I nodded. Maybe I was wrong, but maybe I wasn’t.

I said, “So you’re bankrupt.”

He shook his head and watched me like I was amusing him so I stopped moving.

He said, “No. I now have a trillion in my accounts from investing with the Norouzi family for a decade now. My accounts were in the billions, but I have earned more since leaving England.”

My head spun, so I retook my seat. I needed to process but while I focused on my white ceiling, I asked, “Why the fuck are you living as a butler, making my best friend toast?”

“Until a month ago, living there wasn’t an issue. Charlie was never home, and I enjoyed college with Kir and Charlie years ago. They let me crash there as they understood I wasn’t going home.”

That explained nothing. I rubbed my forehead and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He let out a sigh and said, “You weren’t interested in dating me, and we never ended up talking when I came over.”

I laughed. I was always the one with the fun plans, who took charge. Staring at him, I asked, “So since we’re not married or anything, we’re off the hook of the whole heir thing?”

“No. You came into my life at the perfect time, and I need a new plan.”

That started with how I was going to choose to live my life next. Maybe I didn’t need to sell. I could redecorate and stay in the city. My life as one of those Real Housewives flashed in front of me. If I binged, maybe I could find a new character to model the next chapter of my life after. One of them had been a countess for a while, if I remembered correctly, though I hadn’t watched enough to form a new life for myself to start living.

No. I wasn’t there for his money. I would get another job. However, since all the Norouzis knew about Michael and since Kelly was terrible with secrets, we needed to come clean. I hated lying. I met his gaze and wondered if he would be with me on this one.

“Let’s start with you coming downstairs to tell everyone you’re the father,” I said.

He stood. “Done. Take my arm.”

For the moment, I was still the Samantha that everyone thought I was, with my pseudonym, Britney Carlyle. I met his gaze and said, “This whole ordering-me-around thing you just did is weird.”

He held the door for me and said, “We’ll switch places again when you’re ready.”

Nothing was ever going to be the same. I hadn’t, in fact, screwed the help, and for once in my life, I had no picture in my head of who to be and how to act. I was lost.