Page 23 of Pregnant By the Playboy
“That’s really not necessary,” I tell him.
In response, he smiles.
He really is a handsome man. Maybe he’ll pass those good looks onto our baby. I still can’t believe I’m having a baby with this guy.
He gets in the car, and we’re off.
“You thought I wasn’t going to show up on time, didn’t you?” he says.
“I, uh...”
“You have so little faith in me. It hurts.” He doesn’t sound hurt at all, though. He presses his hand to his heart before putting it back on the steering wheel. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you.” He graces me with another winning smile. “By the way, what’s your last name? I realized I’d proposed to a woman without even knowing her last name.”
“It’s Chan.”
“Marissa Chan, you might be skeptical, but my proposal was serious. I’ve had a week to think about it, and I’m not retracting it. The proposal is still on the table, if you ever change your mind. Which I hope you will.”
I do not understand this man. At all. He’s a legendary playboy, and yet when I told him I was having his baby, he wanted to marry me?
“As I told you,” I say, “I’m not marrying a man I don’t love. Nor am I marrying a man I don’t believe could be faithful to me.”
He whips his head toward me before turning back to the road. “I can be faithful.” This time, he does sound a bit hurt. “Actually, I haven’t been with anyone since you, and I promise to be faithful to you from now on.”
“We’re not in a relationship, Vince.”
“I’ll do it anyway, just to prove it to you.”
“I’ll have no way of knowing if you’re telling the truth.”
“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
I don’t know what to say. Should I trust him? Yes, he has his reputation, but he’s been pretty good to me. He was an attentive lover, and he picked me up exactly when he said he would. I shouldn’t assume his history of casual sex means he couldn’t be faithful if he wanted.
“I’ll try,” I say.
“Good. How have you been feeling?”
“Not too bad.” I don’t feel like telling him about the fatigue and swollen breasts.
We sit in silence for the rest of the drive. Vince drops me off right out front, then goes to park the car and returns five minutes later.
When he sits down, he opens up an enormous book on pregnancy. He’s two-thirds of the way through the book.
I feel like a slouch.
And I’m the one who’s pregnant.
I’m touched, although perhaps he’s doing this all for show.
“Look at this.” He pulls out his phone and opens an app. “It tells you what to expect for each week of pregnancy and how big the fetus is and...lots of other things.”
Oh. It never even occurred to me to look for a pregnancy app.
“Can you text me the name of it?” I ask.
“Sure thing.” A moment later, my phone pings. “I was wondering...do you plan on finding out the sex of the baby? I mean, not now, obviously. It’s too early.”
“I’m not sure.”
