The Billionaire's Secret Baby(13)

"Well, why not? Don't you care about him? Does he care about you?" Mama asked in a softer tone.



Another sigh. "It's not that, Mama."



"Well what is it? It doesn't sound so complicated to me," Mama said simply.



"He's married,” Cami said quietly.



There was a deafening silence on the other end of the line for nearly a full minute. She could feel the heat radiating through her phone. She waited as long as she could, and then she had to speak up.



"Mama?" she almost whispered.



"Was he married when you two made that baby?" Mama asked, in a low tone.



"Yes, ma'am." Cami spoke quietly again.



There was the briefest of silences, and then Mama was not quiet any longer. "What in the world are you doing, having sex with a married man? What in God's name has gotten into your head, young lady? Did I raise you to act like that? You know better than that!



“What kind of a world have you brought that little girl into? What kind of a future is she going to have now? I can't believe you did that. My own daughter, having an affair with a married man! What is in your head, young lady?" she demanded.



Cami let out a huge breath of air. The worst was over. She had admitted it and Mama had gone through her rant and had finally stopped to listen. There would be more ranting, but the hottest burn of it was over.



"I knew he was married, and it's no excuse, but his wife is a real piece of work and it just kind of happened. We really liked each other, and one night it just... uh... happened. Now he knows about Emma and he wants to take full responsibility for both of us. He is going to take care of all of our expenses; he's getting us a nice place to live, a car, and he's putting Emma on his insurance and paying me a huge amount of child support.



“Mama he's paying me so much that I wouldn't have to work if I don't want to, but I do want to... so I'll still make my art, but, Mama, we're doing so good now that I won't have anything to worry about. It's like I have a good friend to help me through it all." Cami felt good saying all of it out loud, as though his support, responsibility and generosity had offered some semblance of redemption for them falling into each other's arms.



Mama's voice was still loud and higher pitched. "Friends? He's putting you up and doing all of that for you and you think he's just going to be friends with you? Girl, you better wake up and smell the coffee. He's going to want a lot more from you than that. He's looking for a mistress, and my baby girl- both my baby girls, are better than that.



“Don't you dare take him up on any of that nonsense! You take care of yourself and be your own woman; you be independent. I don't want you being some man-whore's kept woman. Don't you dare! That is not the kind of girl I raised!" Mama was starting to rant again.



Cami shook her head. "No Mama, it's really not like that. I promise you, and if it was, I wouldn't do it, because you're right, you didn't raise me like that. Aside from the glaring fact that I have a child with a married man, it's the only time it ever happened and neither of us wants it to happen again. He just wants to step up to his responsibility and he's pretty well off financially, so in his eyes, he isn't buying me, he's just taking care of a situation that he created and feels completely responsible for."



Mama was quiet for a short minute, and then she spoke in a softer voice. "What's his wife like? Does she know about you and Emma?"



"No, Mama, I don't think she knows, and I think we're going to try to keep it that way for now. Maybe someday she will know. I mean, at some point she's bound to find out, don't you think? Who could keep their own child a secret from their family?" Cami hadn't really thought about that aspect of it, but now that she was talking to her Mama about it, she realized that Denise was going to be a step-mother to her daughter, and that put their situation in a whole new light for her.



Mama seemed to think the exact same thing. "Well, when she does find out, you better keep an eye on her. She better be good to my little grandbaby or I'll put the fear of God into her."



Cami laughed a little. "I know, Mama, we both feel that way. You and I are on the same page about that. Listen, I just wanted to let you know what's going on here; you know, that we're moving and why... and to let you know that everything is going to be okay and you don't have to worry about me doing any of this on my own. Everything is going to be okay, and I'm really happy, Mama, I'm not scared or worried anymore."



She could hear her Mama smile through the phone. "Alright, well, I don't like what you told me, but it seems like it's all done now, so we'll look toward the future and we'll take it a bit at a time. That's the only way to do it, and you know that. Day at a time."



"Yes ma'am," Cami answered her. "I love you Mama,” she said gratefully.



"I love you too, baby girl. You kiss Emma for me and tell her I miss her," Mama said with a smile. She knew Mama must be looking at one of her photos of Emma just then, as her voice got a little high and she sort of cooed.

"I will." She hung up and pulled Emma from the car, heading in to their hotel with a glance around her new city. Things were going to be alright finally, and nothing felt better than that.



***



Roman went home that afternoon with his head and his heart totally focused on the new change in his life. He had a daughter; a beautiful baby girl, and he was never going to be the same again. It seemed like nothing could bring him down, until he walked into the kitchen at home and was surprised to see his mother-in-law sitting at the kitchen table with his wife.



"Uh... Agnes! How... how are you doing?" he asked, trying not to stumble over the words he spoke.



She turned her face to him and narrowed her eyes. "I'd be a hell of a lot better if I wasn't sitting here looking at your rotten face," she snapped at him.



Denise stood up and walked toward the wine cooler, pulled out a bottle of wine and started to decant it. "Mother is going to live with us now. She needed a good place to go, so I told her she could live here! Isn't that wonderful?" Denise giggled, grinning and bouncing as she spoke.



Roman stared at Denise. "I don't know what to say," he said in a quiet tone, but then blinked and turned to look at Agnes who was swilling a tumbler of whiskey.



"Uh... welcome, Agnes. Welcome home. It will be nice to have you here. I'm sure Denise will appreciate your... company." He felt like a rug had been ripped out from under his feet and he'd landed on his back hard enough that the wind was knocked out of him.



He looked at his wife. "Denise, may I please talk with you in the other room?" he asked delicately, with a serious undertone.



She turned and leveled her eyes at him. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Mother. We have no secrets."



Roman looked from Agnes to Denise, and then shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Alright. I think it would have been helpful if you could have mentioned this to me before it changed. Of course, Agnes is welcome here, but you should have talked with me about this first. You could have at least... mentioned it."



Denise gave him a nasty look. "Why would I do that? This is my house too, and if she's welcome, then why would we need to talk about it? She is my mother, and if my mother wants to be here with me, then she's going to be here with me. It has nothing at all to do with you."



Roman pursed his lips. "Thanks for being thoughtful." He looked at Agnes and smiled as best he could. "Agnes, if there's anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please let me know." He nodded and turned to walk out of the kitchen when Agnes stopped him.



"Yeah, there are some things you could do to make this dump more comfortable!" She pulled a cigarette from her little painted leather cigarette case, snapped it shut, and lit her cigarette up, blowing smoke all over the kitchen.



"You don't have any ashtrays around here. I had to use whatever I can find, and I got stuck using this crappy bowl." She nudged a beautiful blue and green hand-blown glass bowl by Dale Chihuly, and then ashed her cigarette in it. There was a thick pile of dead cigarette butts in the bowl.



Roman closed his eyes for a moment and tried to still the clenching of his stomach. He took a deep breath and looked steadily at her. "That is a one-of-a-kind piece of artwork worth over fifteen thousand dollars. It was created especially for me, and signed by the artist. It's not an ashtray."



"You think this ugly thing is artwork? Why am I not surprised,” she said with a nasty sneer. "Well, it's crap, but at least now it's practical, useful crap." She blew cigarette smoke at him and ashed in it again. "Another thing; what the hell is that thing you have me sleeping on up in my room? You are supposed to be so successful; can't you even afford to buy a decent mattress? That thing is hard as a rock! I want a new bed!"



Denise piped up and rested her hand on her mother's arm. "Don't you worry about it, Mother, we'll have a decorator come in and redesign your room, and you and I can go shopping and buy any bed you want. I'll take care of you, and Roman can pay for it." She turned and narrowed her eyes at him again meaningfully.



"Well thank heaven someone around here knows how to treat a guest. I must have raised you right, Denise. I just wish I'd have raised you with enough sense to marry a good man, because you sure got the short end of the stick with this one,” Agnes snapped.