Page 17 of Need You To Choose Me

The curve of her waist.

The small bump.

Her hand slides to her middle as if she wants to hide it from me.

My stomach sinks as my brain slowly processes every little detail, and my whole world tilts on its axis.

Fuck my life.

My head shoots up, cold sweat washing over me as I meet those panic-filled eyes.

She’s pregnant?

“What—” My voice comes out rough, but before I can ask anything, Levi tugs at my hand, demanding my attention.

I glance at my son, still too stunned to think clearly.

Blondie is here. She’s here, and she’s pregnant. And based on her bump, she’s around four months? Maybe five. Which means…

The bile rises up my throat just when Levi whispers so loudly that the whole classroom can hear him. “She’s not old!”

Fuck.

Blondie lets out a strangled sound that has me looking up. Red floods her cheeks, her teeth biting her lower lip, as she’s trying to hide her smile.

No, she was most definitely not old.

I was screwed.

Completely and utterly screwed.

Her gaze meets mine for a moment before she shifts her attention to my son. “And you must be Levi, right?”

“Yes.” Levi eyes her carefully and tilts his head to the side, a lock of his hair falling into his eyes. “And you’re Miss Parker?”

He tries to blow it out of the way, but it’s useless. I should have probably found time to take him to the hairdresser, but between all the other things and the move, I completely spaced out. Just another reason why I was failing at this whole single dad thing.

“That’s correct. Why do?—”

“You look pretty,” Levi says, flashing her a toothless grin.

She looks stunned for a moment. If the situation were different, I might be embarrassed, but this was the woman I couldn’t take my eyes off of since the first moment I entered the room that night. Levi was most definitely his father’s son in that regard.

“Well, thank you.” She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you go and take your seat, Levi? It’s the one in the last row.”

Levi nods once and hurries to his seat without a backward glance. At least he seemed content.

Blondie straightens to her full height, which is a good foot shorter than my six-five, her hand sliding to the underside of her belly.

“Blondie…”

Her head whips in my direction as if she just realized I’m still here.

I rub my hand over my jaw as I try to come up with the right thing to say, but there is just too much that’s swirling inside of my head. So many questions I want to ask her, starting with the most important one—whose baby is she carrying?

“Miss Parker,” she says sternly, crossing her arms over her chest.

The motion should be defensive, but it only presses her tits closer, giving me a better look at her cleavage. They were nice before, but pregnancy only made them more alluring.

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