My Stepbrother's Secret Baby: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance by Addison Albaugh
Authors: Addison Albaugh
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your house,” the sale associate said as she filled bag after bag with blankets, bottles, bibs, books and baby toys.
I sighed. “Yeah. I think we’re going to have to.”
She rang me up. “$1,578.29.”
I slapped Trenton’s credit card on the table and signed the receipt when it was all over. “I think I’d like to take one bag home right now.”
I grabbed the bag with a fuzzy yellow blanket and stuffed giraffe. I wanted to hold it and cuddle with it and try to imagine how beautiful our little baby was going to be. I wrote down our address on a slip of paper and the associate assured me we’d have everything by that evening.
I carefully stepped back onto the crowded Manhattan street. The sun had begun to shine through the clouds and the snow had stopped. I took a deep breath, allowing the frosty hair to cool my lungs as I thought about what an amazing year we were about to have.
Up a head, a woman in a fuchsia coat with a mink collar walked towards me, her eyes burning into me even from a distance. I stopped to hail a cab and the women kept walking towards me, staring. The closer she got, the more I saw she sort of almost looked like a more exotic version of me.
“Are you Brenna Smith?” she asked.
“Are you with the media?” I replied, looking her up and down.
“Do I look like I’m with the media?” she countered, her big diamond studs catching the sun as she tossed her hair over her shoulder.
I raised my hand in the air to hail a passing cab, but it kept on going.
“You’re with Trenton Ellsworth, aren’t you?” she said, shooting daggers at me as if I’d encroached upon her turf and she wanted him back.
“I don’t know who that is,” I lied, trying to hail another cab. As if the gods were shining upon me in that moment, a cab pulled up. I reached for the handle, trying to get away from that crazy bitch as quickly as possible.
“He still loves me, you know,” she called out. “And I love him. He’s just going to hurt you.”
If she only knew. He couldn’t hurt me because I didn’t love him. Not technically. Not out loud. He couldn’t hurt me if I didn’t allow myself to love him.
Right?
***
“How was shopping?” Trenton asked as he came home from work. His entire foyer was filled with shopping bags from the baby boutique. He cracked an amused smile. “I thought you were going to just get a few things.”
I shrugged. “I saw one thing and then I saw another and another …”
“This baby’s spoiled already,” he said with a smirk, slipping off his suit jacket.
“I hope you don’t mind, I had the chef make some comfort food tonight,” I said. “Fried chicken and macaroni and cheese. It’s so cold out and it just sounded good.”
Trenton stopped in his tracks. Trenton picked dinner. He always had. That’s the way it was. I hoped I wasn’t stepping on his toes.
“That does sound good,” he said, much to my relief, as he walked to his bedroom to change.
“I’m going home this weekend, Trenton,” I said to him over dinner. “I miss my grandmother. I need to go home and check on her.”
“Of course,” he said. “How long you think you’ll be gone?”
“Maybe a week at most? If that’s okay with you.” I wondered why I was seeking his permission all of a sudden, like I was some sort of pet on a leash.
“I leave Friday at noon,” I said.
“My driver will take you to the airport.”
“Oh? Thank you.”
“You never have to worry about those things, Brenna,” he said. “You’re the mother of my child.”
It warmed me over to hear him say those words. We may not have been in love, but he cherished me in his own way. Which was more than any of his many conquests could ever say.
As we munched on fried chicken and devoured the chef’s gourmet, four cheese mac and cheese, the room was silent. And I couldn’t help but
I sighed. “Yeah. I think we’re going to have to.”
She rang me up. “$1,578.29.”
I slapped Trenton’s credit card on the table and signed the receipt when it was all over. “I think I’d like to take one bag home right now.”
I grabbed the bag with a fuzzy yellow blanket and stuffed giraffe. I wanted to hold it and cuddle with it and try to imagine how beautiful our little baby was going to be. I wrote down our address on a slip of paper and the associate assured me we’d have everything by that evening.
I carefully stepped back onto the crowded Manhattan street. The sun had begun to shine through the clouds and the snow had stopped. I took a deep breath, allowing the frosty hair to cool my lungs as I thought about what an amazing year we were about to have.
Up a head, a woman in a fuchsia coat with a mink collar walked towards me, her eyes burning into me even from a distance. I stopped to hail a cab and the women kept walking towards me, staring. The closer she got, the more I saw she sort of almost looked like a more exotic version of me.
“Are you Brenna Smith?” she asked.
“Are you with the media?” I replied, looking her up and down.
“Do I look like I’m with the media?” she countered, her big diamond studs catching the sun as she tossed her hair over her shoulder.
I raised my hand in the air to hail a passing cab, but it kept on going.
“You’re with Trenton Ellsworth, aren’t you?” she said, shooting daggers at me as if I’d encroached upon her turf and she wanted him back.
“I don’t know who that is,” I lied, trying to hail another cab. As if the gods were shining upon me in that moment, a cab pulled up. I reached for the handle, trying to get away from that crazy bitch as quickly as possible.
“He still loves me, you know,” she called out. “And I love him. He’s just going to hurt you.”
If she only knew. He couldn’t hurt me because I didn’t love him. Not technically. Not out loud. He couldn’t hurt me if I didn’t allow myself to love him.
Right?
***
“How was shopping?” Trenton asked as he came home from work. His entire foyer was filled with shopping bags from the baby boutique. He cracked an amused smile. “I thought you were going to just get a few things.”
I shrugged. “I saw one thing and then I saw another and another …”
“This baby’s spoiled already,” he said with a smirk, slipping off his suit jacket.
“I hope you don’t mind, I had the chef make some comfort food tonight,” I said. “Fried chicken and macaroni and cheese. It’s so cold out and it just sounded good.”
Trenton stopped in his tracks. Trenton picked dinner. He always had. That’s the way it was. I hoped I wasn’t stepping on his toes.
“That does sound good,” he said, much to my relief, as he walked to his bedroom to change.
“I’m going home this weekend, Trenton,” I said to him over dinner. “I miss my grandmother. I need to go home and check on her.”
“Of course,” he said. “How long you think you’ll be gone?”
“Maybe a week at most? If that’s okay with you.” I wondered why I was seeking his permission all of a sudden, like I was some sort of pet on a leash.
“I leave Friday at noon,” I said.
“My driver will take you to the airport.”
“Oh? Thank you.”
“You never have to worry about those things, Brenna,” he said. “You’re the mother of my child.”
It warmed me over to hear him say those words. We may not have been in love, but he cherished me in his own way. Which was more than any of his many conquests could ever say.
As we munched on fried chicken and devoured the chef’s gourmet, four cheese mac and cheese, the room was silent. And I couldn’t help but
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