Read Online To Want A Billionaire (The Billionaire's Baby Series Book 1) by Ava Claire - Free Book Online Page A

me was a huge deal.
    But it’s not just for you , I reminded myself. It was literally the only day my mother and Alicia were both free and they’d made it very clean that neither planned to miss their first grandchild’s baby shower.
    I tugged at my t-shirt, stroking my tummy before I reached for the OJ and ibuprofen. “Is it too late to BFF elope this thing? Because really, I don’t need the pomp and circumstance-”
    “It’s clear that you don’t need very much, Leila,” Megan interrupted gently. I was on the verge of sticking my tongue out at her, so she rubbed my feet as a peace offering. “I’ve been to your place before and I still feel like I’m in an episode of Cribs .” She gave my foot a final squeeze and popped from the bed with an ease that made me a little jealous. “This view is freaking amazing, you know that?”
    I scooted to the edge o the bed, swallowing a mouthful of orange juice before I answered. “I’m pretty lucky.”
    It was the understatement of the century. ‘Lucky’ was dashing out of the house, ten minutes late and a cab’s waiting at the curb. Luck was forgetting your briefcase in said cab and the driver delivering it to your office. Meeting Jacob, falling in lust, then love, and marrying and starting a family with him, was something else entirely. It was a gift that I was grateful for every moment of every day.
    Our home was beautiful: from the view, to the furnishings, to the bits and pieces that were ours; the pictures, the memories on the walls and draped on the couch downstairs and the kitchen, that for Jacob’s sake, I rarely used. But all the bells and whistles, the things that made editors of interior design magazines light up my inbox, dying to feature the modern luxury loft the Whitmores call home’, completely missed the most amazing part of my life. Love was what mattered. Lifting each other up, celebrating each other.
    And letting yourself be celebrated , I thought, conceding my internal war about ‘The Moms’. There were worst problems to have. There were women out there who wished they had overbearing relatives to fight over who would love the baby the most. As crazy as they made me, I didn’t want to ever lose sight of how lucky I truly was.
    I finished my orange juice, took a deep breath or two and eased off the bed. The minute the floor creaked, Megan whirled back to me, hands clasped together in a mixture of relief and glee.
    “Good, you’re up! What can I do to help?” Not even waiting for her marching orders, she flew to the closet, throwing on the light with a gasp of shock and awe. “Jesus Christ. I’m pretty sure your closet is bigger than my entire studio. I should shoot you my GPS coordinates so I don’t get lost.”
    “Very funny,” I called after her, pausing myself to look out at the city. I was getting a later start than I was used to. Even during the vacation I was milling around at 7AM, my body still on mainland time.
    Despite the fact the rest of the world got a head start on me, there was still something so liberating and empowering about looking out at the city. The concrete jungle, filled with dreams and hard work and promises. Like every day was a blank page, just waiting for you to make your mark on the world.
    “How about one of these?” Megan piped behind me.
    I turned and let out a snort as I scanned her outfit possibilities. The first was a white dress that was nearly identical to hers except for the ombre effect at the hemline, the white turning blue and silver. She’d even picked out some cute brown sandals. The second was a black, retro inspired romper. The off the shoulder look and embroidered white flowers would look killer with the wide brim hat she had perched on the hanger.
    Her face fell when I dashed her valiant, but failed hope. “Good ideas, but I’m pretty sure the white dress wouldn’t even make it over my hips and the ladies-” I gripped my robust chest, which I swear was bigger than it was when I went