Chapter 15: Chapter 15

I've never really paid much attention to the way I dress. Trust me, you wouldn't either if you had bigger problems, like growing a baby for a celebrity to pay for your dad's expenses.

Even though I take my time pulling my clothes from the suitcases and organizing my new closet, I finish quickly. I don't even fill half the stupid thing. I get in the shower after admiring the beautiful bathroom. Everything is so beautiful and white; I'm scared to stain it.

I ignore my growling stomach for as long as I can, but I smell food and I can't help it anymore. I open my door slowly and take a peek. Nobody is in the hall, but someone is definitely cooking in the kitchen. I gulp, forcing myself to walk down the hall. This is so ridiculous. I don't feel comfortable here, but I live here now, so I need to find some common ground with Evan. There’s a whole conversation planned out with Evan in my head, but when I reach the kitchen, he isn’t there. Instead, there’s a woman in her mid-thirties; she has black hair, pulled back with a pin and is wearing a long jean skirt with a pink blouse.

She smiles when she sees me. "You must be Ciara"

"Yes," I say with a frown.

"I’m Bellina—I work for Mr. Leonard. Food is almost ready," she says, her expression warm.

"Where is…Mr. Leonard?"

"He went out."

I nod and take a seat. Does he think I’m too lazy to cook or something? I’m capable of making my own food—I don't need a maid or cook or whatever.

"You like enchiladas, right?" Bellina suddenly asks as she fixes a plate.

"Yes. I eat just about anything, really."

"Good," she says, placing a plate in front of me. Cheese enchiladas, rice and beans—it's like being in a Mexican restaurant. I kind of love this.

"Thank you; it smells delicious."

"My pleasure." She says, going back to the kitchen to clean.

"Do you come here every day?" I ask, my mouth watering as I look at the food.

"Not usually, but Mr. Leonard told me I will from now on." She looks at me and trails her gaze to my stomach. Great—Evan told her. Now she probably thinks I'm some wild college student who got knocked up by the rich man because we forgot protection or something.

Instead of responding, I start eating; I don't want to keep thinking about this. It's already done—too late—and I need to get over it. After I finish my food, I offer to wash my plate, but Bellina takes it from me anyway. Moving back to my room, I try to concentrate on studying, but it’s no use; I end up falling asleep.

When I open my eyes again, there’s light coming through the windows and my eyes widen as I reach for my cell phone.

8:36 a.m.

Crap! I have a class in twenty-four minutes—I'm going to be so late. I leap out of bed, brushing my teeth and washing my face before I change into jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Hurriedly, I throw everything back in my backpack then hurry out of my room. There's no one in the hallway and I don't even bother checking if Evan's home—it's none of my business anyway. It isn't until I’m out the door that I realize I don't have a key.

Screw it. I'll deal with it when I get back.

Since I don’t know my way around this neighborhood, I don’t know what bus route to take; I meant to wake up early and figure all of this out beforehand. I don't know how long I walk before I finally see a bus stop. I'm going to be so late.

When Flora calls me, I answer. "Hello?"

"Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"Class is about to start and you're always here early. I thought something bad happened."

I roll my eyes. "I woke up late and I just got on the stupid bus. Pass me the notes later, please?"

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No. I'll see you after?"

"Okay.”

I hang up and sigh. I hate missing class because it's really like missing three days worth of class. And all because I forgot to set my stupid alarm. Thankfully, I catc the last thirty minutes of caught, then Flora and I headed to Starbucks.

"What are you getting?" she asks.

I shake my head. "A cup of water."

The cashier nods. "It'll be four-fifty-six."

"Queen of caffeine doesn't want caffeine?”  teases as she hands the cashier her credit card.

I roll my eyes. "I'm trying to take it easy—I don't want to be the reason this baby decides it doesn't like my womb."

She nods as we walk to a table. "The first weeks are the most important. Ciara, lucky you’re studying to be a nurse."

"I can't believe we're graduating in a month." I shake my head with a smile.

"I know! I can't believe I'm getting married in six months!"

"Are you getting cold feet

She laughs. "No. It's just nerve wrecking you know.”

"I'm sorry I haven't been helping you with anything."

"Don't worry. You're pregnant now, so you practically have an excuse for everything for the next nine months."

"Good to know," I say with a smile.

"How was your first night living with Evan?”

I shrug. "Like living alone. Apparently he rarely sleeps there—he's always at his club."

She squints, suspicious. "Why do you sound so disappointed.”

"I don't," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Hmm," she says, standing to get our drinks.

"Why are you reading into things? This isn't some magical story where the wealthy, handsome guy falls for his surrogate." Saying the words out loud makes me realize how impossible that is…and how much that disappoints me.

"You said it."

I look away. "I annoy him."

"Why do you think that?”

"I asked him about being left at the altar."

"You did not!" she gasps.

I frown. "Why do you sound so shocked? I was curious—I wanted to know more about him."

"And?”

"He got mad. And he had every right—I was in his business." I narrow my eyes at her. "Because of you!"

She laughs. "I mean, he's kind of dumb, don't you think? He drags you to live with him and…what? He doesn't expect you two to become friends.”

"He says he doesn't need friends."

"Well, he's obviously still hurting."

"Wouldn't you?” I retort defensively.

She frowns. "Can we not talk about being left at the altar when my wedding is coming up

I smile. "See? It's not easy."

"Fine, whatever." She looks at me for a moment. "You know living him is a dream for a lot of people.”

I snort. "Hardly—I'm telling you, I don't think he likes me."

"Oh, he likes you; otherwise, he never would’ve picked you as his surrogate."

I look down. "He's just so difficult." My phone rings, making the table vibrate.

"Speak of the devil," Flora says, looking at the caller ID.

I smile and slide my finger across the screen. "Hello?" I’m suddenly feeling nervous. We haven't spoken since our little fight, and I don't know what mood he's in.

", where are you?" he asks, breathless.

"School?" I say, confused.

"How did you get to school?"

Oh no. I know where this is going, and I don't like it. "Evan, I’m capable of getting myself to school."

He scoffs. "Are you really, Miss Damien"

"I am."

"You are not using public transportation anymore," he says.

"I've taken public transportation my whole life—I can take care of myself," I say, starting to get a little angry. He literally doesn't want me to do anything.

"I wasn't asking," he says curtly. "I'll be picking you up today. We'll talk then."

"But—" He hung up. "I told you he didn't like me," I told you Flora.

"Ciara you are carrying his baby—he's being protective." She beams. "You have to admit it's kind of cute."

"It's annoying," I say, looking away.

"It's cute," she insists.

I sigh, standing. "Let's go to the library—I have some homework."

She's smiling as she stands and follows me. "It's really cute."

I don’t know how much more of Evan's so-called cute protectiveness I can take.