All Chapters of My Billionaire Baby Daddy Wants Me Back: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Leo smiles at me, more grace on his lips than I deserve. "Just have Rex come over more and he can play with me. No problem!"Yes, no problem. It would be so easy to have Rex as the live-in playmate for my son. He'd be so willing to, I bet. "Oh... yes, well, when he's in town, I'm sure he'll always be happy to play with you.""Why can't he stay in town?"It must all be so simple in his head. So confusing that we don't follow logic. "Leo, honey, Rex lives in LA. We talked about this.""Yeah, but why can't he live here? Or we live there?"Leo doesn't know who Rex is, which is great for my sanity. He's going to totally flip when he finds out his father is famous. All in due time, though. "You know, mijo, Rex didn't even know about you until recently."Leo's eyes widen. "What?! But I'm his kid!"I laugh. "Yes, I know.""How could he not know?"I sigh. How am I going to make this make sense to a four-year-old? "You know how I grew you in my tummy?""Yeah...?""Well, Rex didn't know you were

Rex"Are you afraid of heights?" Leo asks me.I squeeze his hand tighter as we walk. "Can't be when you're as tall as me."Leo then looks up at Isabella who has him by the other hand. "Will I be that tall?""Maybe, mijo," she says, then gives me a sweet, glimmering look."You want some practice?" I ask.Leo nods excitedly. I scoop him up off the ground and tuck him onto my hip. He gasps with delight, clinging to my neck. "I'm so high up!"Isabella scoots into the spot Leo had beside me and wraps her hand around my bicep. "Careful with your..." Her other hand touches my midsection. It is an intimacy that feels like we've been together for years rather than days."I've done a lot more physical activity than this, Isabella," I say, raising my eyebrows. Because that's the truth. Any moment we get alone, we're usually contorting our bodies for pleasure. If something was going to ruin my recovery, it already would have happened.She bites on her tongue, smiling. "You're bad."Leo shoves his

IsabellaI feel nothing and everything at once.The second I heard the words “world tour” I realized all my dreams would never be a reality.How dare he try to offer me forever when he didn’t have forever to give?It’s not that I expected him to give up his whole life and career for a life in Ocotillo. But we’re older now. Wiser. I thought maybe with his wild oats sowed there was a possibility we could make it work.I excused myself to the bathroom to do a bit of googling and sure enough, the first thing that came up about Rex was an article about the world tour set to kick off in three weeks.Three fucking weeks.How didn’t I know about this? Why didn’t he tell me?A relationship as new as this one (if you can call it a relationship) can’t withstand a massive nine-month world tour.I wasted about ten more minutes in the shiny marble bathroom looking at other search results, including pictures of the accident and a picture of us at the mall. A grainy photo, sure, but it’s us alright.

RexI stare at the party in front of me without seeing. Depravity. What else is new? Nothing I need to see. Not anymore. If I was tired of it before, now I’m downright exhausted by it.I balance my lowball glass of whisky on the arm of my chair, twist it carefully and try to discern if I could sneak out of this godforsaken hotel without anyone noticing me. There are the four of us from the band, a handful of girls, and then some of the crew. Maybe fifteen people in total. It’d be tricky but I could do it.“Lines!” a female voice shrieks in excitement.Across the room, a raven-haired woman with skin so pale I’m surprised I can’t see all her veins holds up a baggie of white stuff. Coke, obviously. I grimace as I watch her go about the business of pouring the powder onto the coffee table and forming the coke into tidy lines.I can thank Holden, our keyboardist, for her appearance tonight. Seraphina’s a groupie, which is surprising in this day and age that anyone takes the time to follow

Isabella “What do you mean I’m not on the schedule?” I gawk at Amina. My resident smiles. “You’re not on the schedule.” I look at the paper scheduler in her hand. Sure enough, I’m not there. “No, I did not come all this way to not be on the schedule,” I grumble, whipping out my phone. I hurriedly navigate to my email where a schedule had been sent last week. I find the attachment and – “Ha!” I hold the phone out. “See? I am on the schedule.” “But you’re not,” Amina says with a shrug. Something is off. She’s got a lilt to her voice that’s playful and strange. “What’s going on?” She shrugs again, biting on her lower lip. She doesn’t even have to say, “I know something you don’t know.” I open my mouth to respond again, but hear my name said by an unfamiliar male voice. “Isabella Delgado?” I turn to find myself face to face with an older gentleman dressed impeccably in a suit and wearing aviators. An LA type through and through. I cross my arms over my chest, my scrubs wrinkling.