Pretend mommy for a billionaire's daughter

Alice Blake stood beneath the awning of a downtown hotel, clutching her umbrella and debating whether to actually walk inside. The gala wasn’t hers. She was only here because her roommate bailed, and the organizers needed an extra set of hands for the silent auction table. Easy money.

She wasn't supposed to mingle. She wasn't supposed to drink champagne or slide out from beneath the table. But a glass was replaced with another, and by the time she slid out into the hotel rooftop lounge, she felt braver and more alone than she typically did.

That was when she noticed him.

Tall, broad shoulders, the type of face women talked about. A navy jacket fitted him in ways that screamed money, but his eyes, storm-gray eyes like they were, looked tired. Haunted. He looked familiar. Maybe she saw him over one of the auction tables.

He stood by the railing, tie loosened, staring into the rain-soaked skyline like it would give up secrets.

Alice recalled that she was to turn her face away. But something in her feet rebelled.

"You look like a man considering jumping," she remarked casually, setting her empty glass down next to him.

His head moved. A pale, shocked smile curved his mouth. "And you look like a woman who got into the wrong party."

"Guilty," she admitted, pulling her cardigan closer around herself. "I was standing by the auction table. Turns out I'm miserable at pretending to be charming peddling outrageously expensive wine baskets."

That drew a soft laugh from him. The sound was warm. Human. "Pretending's exhausting."

They stared at each other. Something sparked in the air.

Alice swallowed, suddenly aware of the close proximity, the scent of him like cedar and rain. "So what are you pretending?"

He gazed at her for a moment. Then, quietly said: "I don't like to say. Well, I look happy but I am a bit lonely"

The rawness cut through her. No stranger in a top-floor bar ought to ever say such words. And no sensible woman ought to ever move a step forward. But she did.

"Maybe you don't have to pretend with me," she whispered. The wine had finally affected her thinking.

And then wild and very reckless he bent his head down, and she stood on tiptoe, and their lips met in a kiss that was not polite or reserved. It was wild. Frenzied. Two mouths frantically searching one another as if trying to find something lost. A kiss from two people who didn't expect to find anything tonight but did.

They breathed hard when they broke apart.

"What's your name?" she whispered.

“Call me the kissing doctor,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “And yours?”

“Call me Butterfly.”

They both smiled at each other.

For a heartbeat, it felt like the beginning of something impossible.

Then his phone buzzed. Reality shattered. His face hardened, the haunted look sliding back into place.

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly, stepping away. “I have to go”

But before Alice could reply, he was gone.

------------

The next morning

Rain pounded the windows of Willow Heights Medical Center. Dr. Cole Kingston sat in his office, his gaze resting on the picture on his desk: Sophie, gap-toothed smile and pink glasses surrounding the five-year-old's radiant smile.

"Daddy, why do I not have a mommy like the other children?"

Last night's question burned in his chest.

He loosened his tie, rubbed his temples. Eliana his ex-wife had long since come and gone. She didn't care about Sophie's kindergarten Family Day, not the child she had left behind.

Now Sophie was counting on him to set it right.

His phone buzzed.

"New temp nurse from Pediatrics in the lounge. She brought cookies. May not hate her." ~ Nurse Tasha.".

Cole exhaled, pushing himself to his feet. Cookies were at least easier than heartbreak.

But when he walked into the lounge, everything froze.

She was there.

Butterfly.

The girl on the rooftop. The girl whose lips taste were still in his mouth.

She sat at the table, cardigan wrapped around her in dusty rose, writing in a journal, a cookie next to her coffee. Her hair was tied back in a sloppy bun, curls escaping. And when she raised her eyes, shock burned just as fiercely in her eyes as it did in his.

"You," Alice breathed.

Cole stopped. "Butterfly"

"You work here?"

"Yes." Cole said with a grin on his face.

Her cheeks flushed to her ears. "I didn't realize this was your hospital. I'm temping today. Pediatrics had an immediate need for coverage."

"Wait a minute, you are the Dr. Cole Kingston I am to meet?"

"Yes, If you word it that way" Cole was really enjoying this back and forth.

The air vibrated, tense, electric again. Remembrances of last night collided around them. The kiss. The tug. The way she'd made him feel human, not a machine.

Cole swallowed hard, fighting to rebuild composure. "Right. Well. Welcome aboard."

Alice fidgeted with her pen, her gaze flicking around the room but not at him. "Thanks."

They both remained still. The silence yawned.

Eventually, Cole's desperation Sophie's question's pain pierced his pride.

"Listen," he growled, "I need to ask you something. And it's not really normal."

Alice blinked warily. "Okay."

"There's an event at my daughter's school. Family Day. She asked why she doesn't have a mom like everyone else. And." He hesitated, then dove in. "I want you to pretend. Just for the day. Be her mom."

Alice stared at him, mouth open with astonishment. "What?"

“I’ll pay you,” he said quickly. “Generously. It’s only for Sophie’s sake. No strings, no expectations.”

Her heart hammered. “You want me to… pretend to be your wife?”

“No. Just Sophie’s mother. For one day.” His voice cracked, a hint of rawness bleeding through. “She deserves that.”

She wasn’t anyone’s mother. She wasn’t even sure she was anyone’s anything.

Her brow furrowed. “I’m not exactly mother material.”

"Neither did the woman who went away," Cole whispered, startling himself at the nakedness of it.

Alice stared at her cookie. Then up. "One day. Just Family Day."

Relief crept through him. "Yes. One day."

"And Sophie will know it's make-believe?"

"She'll know you're helping," he said. "But for those hours, she'll feel a sense of belonging. That's all I want for her.".

Something flickered in Alice's eyes, as if he had touched something she still held. A ghost she had not meant to show him. She shot a glance at the window afterwards, so quick he almost didn't catch it, her shoulders tensing, eyes hardening as if she'd caught movement outside. Cole cast an eye after her by the time it arrived, there was nothing. Just rain streaming down glass.

"Sorry," she whispered, attempting a smile. "Thought I saw someone I knew."

He didn't press the issue. But she gripped her coffee cup as a lifeline until her knuckles were white.

But when she glanced back at him, the pain in his eyes and the memory of the way he had kissed her like a man drowning and grabbing for air caused her to say softly, "Okay. One day."

Cole's shoulders eased back in relief. "Thank you."

She poked a small smile. "But you're owing me more kisses."

For the first time in days, his lips curved into something close to a laugh.

And so began the lie.

—---------------------

Three days later, Alice stood outside the glass doors of Sophie's kindergarten classroom, clutching a bouquet of daisies in her hand and butterflies of nerves fluttering on espresso.

Outside, kids were swarming around rainbow-colored tables. Paper hearts, glitter glue, and markers filled every available space. The sound of laughter filled the air.

Cole crouched down next to Sophie, lacing her sneaker. Dark hair dipped forward, and Sophie, who was wearing a lilac tutu, reached up and stroked it back softly. He smiled at her, and the gentleness in his eyes lodged in Alice’s throat.

This man was not what she had pictured, a successful doctor with a name posted on hospital wings.

"Alice!" Sophie screamed as she spotted her, sprinting across the room.

Alice dived to the floor just in time to grab the bundle of joy who crashed into her arms.

"You came!" Sophie grinned. "Daddy said maybe, but I hoped."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Alice whispered, holding her tight. She breathed in bubblegum shampoo and cinnamon, and her heart altered.

It wasn't pretend.

Not at this moment.

Cole hovered a few feet away, watching them.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, all melted away; the din, the crayons, the pretending and what remained was a man who had begged a stranger to make his daughter feel loved.

And a woman who never realized she needed to be needed until now.

The table of cupcakes was scattered, and frosting covered Cole's cheek. Alice laughed, reaching up to wipe it with a napkin. Her hand skittered across his skin, and their gazes met once again.

Sophie, standing between them, looked up.

"I wish this were real," she said simply. "I wish we were an actual family."

Neither of the grown-ups spoke.

Alice swallowed. She saw Cole looking at her, which he already was the rider of that question in his eyes he hadn't dared to ask yet.

But something was beginning.

And not even pretending could hide it much longer.