Temporary Love: Tucker Billionaires by W. Million

Author:W. Million [Million, W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stomill Books
Published: 2024-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ember

The time Nova normally wakes up passes, and I check the baby monitor, uneasiness nibbling at the edges of my consciousness. I zoom into the crib to make sure her chest is still rising and falling regularly. Nova’s earlier behavior set me on edge, and then Ava’s offer only seemed to push me deeper into a weird sort of worry.

I shake my head to clear the negativity, and I adjust the cloth under the sewing machine and press down on the pedal.

The opportunity Ava dangled in front of me feels like a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and I want it. But I can’t let myself dwell on what could be for me. Athena left Nova in my care, and my niece is the last piece of Athena I have left. Gage is a good dad, but he didn’t know my sister, not in any way that matters. I’m her only chance to know our side of the family—not that there’s much that’s good to know.

Still, I do need a job, and I’m not qualified for any of the ones Gage thinks I can do. But I might actually stand a chance of getting a fashion design visa.

I stop sewing and grab my phone from beside me, firing off a text to Ava to see whether the designer is based in Bellerive.

Within seconds she’s responded that everyone she knows who is any good is American, like me.

Taking Ava up on the opportunity would mean I’d have to leave Bellerive, abandon Nova and Gage.

You in? she texts back.

My fingers hover over the buttons, but I can’t bring myself to make a decision. Slowly, I type out the words, I can’t, but I don’t hit Send. I just stare at them.

Nova stirs, crying and thrashing back and forth on the monitor. I drop my phone beside my sewing machine, and I rush into her bedroom.

At the edge of her crib, I rub her stomach as she stares up at me, tears pooling in her eyes. I lift her gently into my arms, and she burrows into the crook of my neck. I lay her on the changing table, and I’m talking nonsense to her as I unzip her damp onesie. She must have peed through her diaper. But when I go to tug the material off one her of hands, I notice how swollen her hand is.

With a frown, I take her hand between mine and tip it back and forth. It’s not discolored, but it’s huge. So much bigger than it should be. I check her other hand, finding the same thing, then I’m examining her body, checking for other signs of swelling. Her face looks normal, but when I draw the onesie off her legs, I find her feet are also at least twice their normal size.

“Oh my god,” I mutter, and I lay the back of my hand across her forehead. The other times she’s had a fever, I could feel the heat emanating off her, and she’s definitely warmer than usual.

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