Tasty Mango: A Billionaire and Single Mom Romantic Comedy Read online

  “Rebel. Rebel.” I hold my arms out for the baby. “Let me have him back.”

  I pull up my feet to make a ramp with my thighs and lay the baby there, jiggling him until his slate-blue eyes open.

  “What do you think of Rebel, little man?”

  He gives a big yawn, then thrusts out a tiny fist.

  “It’s a yes!” I say.

  The whole room whoops.

  “She did it!” Mom says, hugging my father. “And for Dad. It’s perfect.”

  Magnolia nods. “It’s a good choice. And undoubtedly, it’s going to be true as heck.”

  “Give me that form,” I say, passing the baby to Mom. I pull the page to me. “Uh oh.”

  Everyone looks to me. “What?” Dad asks.

  “He needs a middle name, too.”

  When I bring Rebel Zachariah through the door of the two-bedroom apartment I share with my sister, I have to stop three steps in. The living room is an explosion of balloons, gifts, and unopened boxes.

  “Where did all this come from?” Mom asks.

  “It’s been coming in for a while,” I say. “Looks like the landlord stuffed more in while we were gone.”

  Magnolia scoots aside three boxes of diapers so we can walk through. Dad stacks containers of baby wipes and three unopened packages on the floor so he can plunk down on the sofa.

  Mom sets Donovan’s flowers on the coffee table. “You’re going to need more room!”

  I shimmy between the armchair and the TV, the bucket car seat heavy in my arms. When Rebel is safely in the corner, still snoozing, I plop onto the floor beside him. “We’ll get it all put away. It’s fine. I’m not expecting a magazine shoot in here.”

  Dang, I’m tired. With all the noises, beeps, and nurse checks during the nights in the hospital, I haven’t slept more than six hours total since my date with Donovan. I lean my head against the wall. Sleep when the baby sleeps, more than one nurse told me. I could use a nap.

  “I’m going to unpack the kitchen things, bottles, pump parts, brushes, and all that,” Magnolia says.

  I give her a weak thumbs-up.

  “Havannah, why don’t you go rest?” Mom says. “We’ll bring you Rebel if he wakes up hungry. John Paul, you start rearranging the boxes so we have some semblance of a walkway in here.”

  Dad lumbers up from the sofa. For a moment, I’m too tired to even stand. I contemplate crawling to my bed, but Mom leans down and extends a hand. “Come on, baby girl.”

  I stumble to the bedroom. Abandoned dresses are strewn across my bed from my indecisiveness before going out with Donovan. I shove them aside and collapse on the rumpled sheets.

  I swear only seconds have passed when a cry startles me awake. Mom stands in the doorway. “I’ve got him,” she says. “Magnolia assembled the pump so that after this feeding, you can express some, and next time you can sleep a little more.”

  She sits next to me on the bed. Rebel squirms in her arms, his mouth opening and closing like a bird’s.

  I scoot back so I’m sitting up against the wicker headboard. That’s uncomfortable, so I pile the pillows behind me. “Pass him over.”

  Mom hands me the baby and glances around. “Would you like me to pick up in here?” She lifts one of the discarded dresses to reveal a red lace bra and matching thong. She sets the dress down again as if she hasn’t seen.

  I don’t feel a lick of mortification that she saw my sexy undergarments when I just had a baby. That’s who I am.

  I shift Rebel and squeeze my boob in hopes he’ll latch easily. Sometimes he does, and other times, it’s a struggle.

  After some tussling, he’s on, and I let out a sigh. Mom waits at the end of the bed. When I look up, she says, “So, you want to tell me about Donovan? We didn’t expect to see him at the birth.”

  “He’s not the father,” I say quickly.

  “We assumed.” She folds her hands carefully in her lap. The room is dim, the filtered light from the window outlining her mop of light curls. Neither Magnolia nor I got the texture of her hair, only the color. “It appeared as though you two only met when he and Dell came down for the mentoring meetings.”

  “We did. That’s it.”

  “We noticed he was smitten. Everybody did.”

  I stare down at Rebel. He’s already fallen asleep. I shift him, and he resumes sucking. “Me too. But I ended up in the hospital on ribbon-cutting day.”

  “That’s right. And he left town. He came back to see you?”

  Wow, this is the nosiest she’s been in years. Does the baby mean she feels like she needs to know everything about my life?

  “He wanted to go on a date. I thought I had time. Then my water just…broke.”

  She glances back at the dress that covers the lacy underwear. “When your waters ruptured, were you…”

  “What? No! We were at a restaurant. I had been leaking a bit, but thought maybe it was pee.”

  Oh, why am I telling this story?

  She waits for me to keep talking. Ugh. Fine.

  “It all gushed out after a sneeze. The waiters dropped napkins at my feet.” I’m hoping that detail convinces her I was not banging Donovan when my water broke.

  Her eyes meet mine for a moment. “Are you going to continue to see Donovan?” Her gaze drops to the baby’s head. “Even now?”

  “I have no idea.” I don’t even know why Donovan was willing to ask out a massively pregnant woman. A sloppy, milk-dribbling new mother is even less appealing.

  “Maybe he has a pregnancy fetish.”

  “Mom!”

  She shrugs. “It’s a thing.”

  “Mom!”

  She stands up, picks up the dress again, and this time hangs it in the closet. Then another and another. She opens a few drawers, locates the underwear, and tucks the lacy ones inside. “I assume they were clean.”

  “Yes.” This is the absolute worst. It was bad enough I was hanging out for all the world to see in labor and delivery. But this is too, too much.

  “Can you send Magnolia in?” I ask her. “I can talk with her about where to put all the new stuff.”

  She hesitates, clearly knowing I’ve found a tactful way to kick her out. “Sure. Your dad is arranging boxes and assembling a swing that came in. You sure you don’t want to live with us for a while? We have more room.”

  “I’m sure. We’ll come over a few nights a week, especially if I feel Magnolia needs a break from us.”

  She nods. “All right, then.”

  When she’s finally gone, my head falls back against the headboard. That was mortifying. But with Rebel here, there’s probably plenty more prying to come. A single mom with no father in sight is always going to be the source of speculation.

  It’s probably best if I leave Donovan alone.

  I gave it a shot.

  My priorities have to change.

  6

  Donovan

  For the three weeks following the epic date with Havannah, I’m less focused than usual. I attend meetings, consult with lawyers, review business agreements. But my head isn’t in the game.

  Havannah texts me in random spurts, sometimes not responding for days, then writing a string of messages at two in the morning. It’s clear her life is challenging, and she longs to get a sense of normalcy back. I’m not sure what role I can have in that. Between the distance and her new status as a single mother, the gulf feels impossibly wide.

  My niece Grace turns five, so Dell messages me with the date and time of her party. He and Arianna are expecting another baby themselves.

  I enjoy hanging out with them on weekends. It gives me a sense of what ordinary lives are like, when I’m not traveling nonstop.

  The party is at a children’s boutique designed for such occasions. The front is a store filled with all manner of sparkle and bling. When I arrive, I’m ushered to a back room where a dozen little girls are seated at a circular table outfitted with lighted mirrors.

  All are dressed in Disney princess frocks
, and several hair and makeup artists work on them, completing their looks.

  Dell stands in the corner with a high-end camera. I set my gift on the table piled high with boxes and bags and join him. “That looks above your pay grade.”

  He fiddles with several of the buttons. “You say that as if we’re not at the top of all pay grades.” He turns the camera over to peer at the lens. “Arianna insisted I stop using my phone to record Grace’s life. With the new baby on the way, I decided to level up my documentation game.”

  I take the camera from him. “If you leave it on auto settings, you’re better off using your phone. It never picks the right choices. You’re supposed to be the brain.”

  “You know how to work this thing? I didn’t think it would be so challenging.”

  “I took two photography classes in undergrad.” I flip the camera to a program mode. Dell won’t be able to use full manual, but I can improve his likelihood of good shots. “If you’re outdoors and there’s lots of action, like a playground, use this S mode.”

  “What does S mean?”

  “Shutter priority. But don’t worry about that. Think of it as S for speed mode, for fast things.”

  “Got it.”

  “If you’re indoors and it’s mostly shots of them posing, use A.”

  “And A is…”

  “Aperture. But think of it as A for alone, a person sitting there ready for a shot.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to put both modes in basic configurations that will cover most things. Don’t mess with them until you know what you’re doing.”

  I shift a few settings and hand the camera back to him.

  He clicks a shot. “Hey, look at that!” He’s chuffed with this image and wanders away to show his wife.

  I lean against the wall and watch the girls giggle and ooh over each other. They ham it up for Dell as he takes each of their pictures. I’m glad I could help.

  Grace spots me and flies out of her chair to run my way. “Uncle Don!” She’s dressed as Moana, her long, dark hair crimped and fluffed, the orange top and textured skirt a perfect fit for a girl who is equal parts princess and wild child.

  I lift her up. “Dang, you’ve gotten heavy now that you’re five!”

  She giggles. “You picked me up last weekend.”

  “And you’re bigger!”

  “You’re so silly.”

  She presses her cheek to mine, and I flash with the image of Havannah in the hospital bed, her baby nestled against her neck. My family was wildly disjointed for most of my life. Dell took off and left me with crazy parents. Then, after I graduated college, he showed up and decided to play big brother.

  I resisted at first, resenting the hell out of his changing his name and acting like none of us existed, but Arianna changed him. They went through a lot after baby Grace was left at his penthouse with the note “Do the DNA, she’s yours.”

  By the time they were engaged, Dell was willing to make amends. And with his time devoted to family, he brought me into his business.

  I do the lion’s share of the traveling, being single and enjoying the hustle. But with my niece so close, smelling of hair spray and childhood, I can see why Dell switched priorities.

  “Time for our fashion show!” a bubbly woman with shining black hair announces, clapping her hands for attention. “Princesses and wildlings, come behind the stage so we can all see your final looks!”

  Grace wiggles down. “Are you going to watch us, Uncle Don?”

  “Of course!”

  She looks up at me. “I sure could use a Maui to go with my Moana!”

  “You mean the big demigod guy?”

  “Yes!” She looks up at me, eyes sparkling.

  I can’t even imagine having to do that. “Too bad I don’t have a costume!”

  The perky young woman who has been managing the party sidles up. “Of course we have a Maui costume!”

  What?

  Grace jumps up and down, clapping. “Yay! Uncle Don is going to be Maui.”

  Arianna catches on and hurries over. “Oh, Grace, you can’t ask Uncle Don to do that in front of everyone!”

  The party handler sizes me up, pausing on my arms and chest in the low-key polo I’m wearing. She’s deadly beautiful with her long, spiraling curls and rich brown skin. “I think he’ll do fine,” she says.

  “Please, please, please, Uncle Don?” Grace beams up at me, her hands clasped.

  And so, I find myself escorted to a changing room bearing only a skirt made of leaves and a bone necklace.

  Thankfully, my boxers are black and fitted. They hide beneath the skirt well enough. The bright overhead light falls on my bare chest. The things we do for kids.

  “Ready?” calls the woman.

  I push back the curtain. “I guess so.”

  Her eyes linger on my skin. “Works for me.” She hands me the tall hook Maui carries. “Break a leg.”

  I pad barefoot across the empty room.

  The parents have settled into rows of chairs set up on either side of a long catwalk on the far side of the room.

  Grace runs up to me. She has a flowered wreath on her hair. “Uncle Don! You’re perfect!” She smacks my belly. “Could use a tan, though.”

  From the mouths of babes.

  Arianna approaches and punches my arm playfully. “Look at you. The young ladies are going to swoon, and probably half the married ones, too.”

  I run my hand around my neck. “Sure.”

  We stand on the side stage as the girls line up. I spot Dell in the front row, fiddling with the camera.

  Arianna leans in. “Thank you for helping him. I would have hired a photographer, but I made such a fuss about Dell learning how to take a real picture, I got trapped.”

  “No problem. It’s kind of nice knowing something he doesn’t.”

  “Oh, you should have been there when Grace first arrived. He didn’t know squat.”

  “I bet.”

  The music begins pulsing, and the first girl, dressed as Lilo in her floral recital dress, holding a stuffed blue Stitch, walks shyly down the walkway.

  Her feet shuffle until the cheers erupt from the parents. “Go, Shila!” someone yells.

  She warms up to the attention, and by the time she arrives at the end of the walk, she’s doing a hula dance and tossing Stitch in the air. A million cell phones lift, documenting every moment.

  I tug on my grass skirt. What have I done?

  The next girl takes off down the runway. She’s Tiana in the full-skirted green dress and carries a stuffed frog. Every girl is seriously decked out.

  Each one takes her turn to great cheers. Grace is last in her Moana outfit.

  She takes my arm. “You ready, Maui?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” God, I’m about to be on every one of these parents’ social media feeds. I draw in a breath. Good thing she’s so cute.

  The announcer’s deep voice comes over the speaker system. “And now, the star of the day, our birthday princess, Grace Brant as Moana with her uncle Maui!”

  We head out onto the stage to an incredible eruption of cheers.

  “Let’s show ’em!” Grace says.

  Why not?

  I lift Grace onto my shoulder and slam the hook onto the ground. Above us, confetti canons pop, and the birthday girl is showered in bits of color.

  Yeah, that’s going to go viral.

  “I know the Rock,” one woman says. “I’m going to tag him.”

  Great.

  But I smile, turning left and right so everyone can get a good angle on Grace. I’m here. Might as well own it.

  The woman in charge comes out again. “Parents, I encourage you to come up on stage with your princesses. I’m happy to take your picture with your phones.”

  Cool, my duty is over. I set Grace back on the ground to be surrounded by her friends.

  “Oh no, Maui, you have to stay!” one girl says.

  “Stay, Maui!” they chorus.


  I guess I’m still on.

  I tower behind the line of girls. Then I’m asked to lift each one on my shoulders for individual shots.

  Finally, someone announces cake, and the party moves back to the main room. I rotate my aching shoulder. I think I’ve completed arm day.

  The party planner approaches, her eyes on me, and I see the spark of interest. “Mom, Dad, the caterer is all ready with cake and treats.” She hesitates. “Does the cool uncle want to change?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’ll take you back.”

  I follow her through the door to the changing rooms. She turns in front of the curtain. “The kids will have some finger foods, so don’t worry about missing the cake.”

  “Thanks.”

  She hesitates. “Need any help getting out of that grass skirt?”

  Now that’s a proposition if I’ve ever heard one.

  But first I think of Grace. Uncle Don doesn’t need to be getting action at her party.

  And second, I think of Havannah, home with her baby.

  So, yeah. That’s a double no.

  “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

  She smiles. “See you out there.” And then she’s gone.

  I refocus my brain. I have about an hour before I need to call my assistant to review the flight plans. I have a meeting in Milan on Monday, so I’ll be flying out later tonight, prepping for a round of meetings over a fraught takeover.

  I quickly step out of the skirt and place it with the necklace on a hook. Maybe if I’m far, far away, I won’t see any of the pictures of me dressed as a Disney character.

  When I get back out to the party, Dell claps me on the back. “You’re a real champ, Donovan. I wouldn’t have thought you had a costume walk in you.”

  “Anything for Grace.” I lift her up in the air until she lets out a squeal.

  “I’m taller than everyone!” she cries.

  “Tell them all to come over here so we can eat cake,” I say.

  She stretches out her arms, her flower wreath tilting on her head. “Cake! Cake! Cake!”

  The other girls take up the chant, and I set Grace back on the ground to be surrounded by her friends.

  I swipe the camera from Dell and take some shots of her blowing out the candles so he can focus on his daughter.