Page 34 of Pregnant By the Playboy
“And she’ll probably be really disappointed if you don’t bring it home. She might make you sleep in the spare room for the week. You really need this cake, don’t you?”
I roll my eyes.
“Look, Vi,” the guy says. “Thirty bucks is good. Don’t force him to pay a ridiculous sum for a half-eaten cake.”
“Why not? He’s wearing a three-piece suit. I’m sure he can afford it. Who the hell wears a three-piece suit?”
“Most women find it sexy,” I say defensively.
“And why are you even thinking about any woman but your wife?”
I don’t know how a simple conversation got so far off the rails.
“Forty bucks.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Fine,” I say. “Forty it is.”
I take out the box with the matcha cheesecake. I use a knife from their table to cut it 60/40, then switch the larger piece with their matcha double fromage cheesecake. I don’t know what on earth a double fromage cheesecake is, but it’s what Marissa wants, and that’s all that matters. Then I place two twenties on the table.
“Thank you,” I say. “My wife will be very happy.”
“You’re a sucker,” the girl says. “I would have given it to you for thirty.”
I’m tempted to make some asshole comment about how much money I have, but I let it go. As I head to the door, I hear the guy say, “What a weirdo.”
Well, whatever. This weirdo now has sixty percent of a matcha double fromage cheesecake and forty percent of a matcha cheesecake, which will hopefully be enough to make a pregnant woman very happy.
I jump into the car waiting a block away, and I’m about to tell my driver to head to Marissa’s building when I remember the rest of her request.
Beef and celery dumplings. Right.
Hopefully this will be easier than the cheesecake.
Chapter 12
Marissa
Cravings are weird.
Earlier this week, I craved salted caramel ice cream. And pretzels. Every night, as soon as I got home from work, I’d serve myself a small bowl of salted caramel ice cream with crushed pretzels on top. I’d sigh in bliss when I slid the spoon into my mouth.
It was as good as an orgasm.
Then today, I got a sudden craving for matcha cheesecake. But not just any matcha cheesecake. No, the matcha double fromage cheesecake at Cheese & Me.
This presented a problem. Cheese & Me is downtown, and I do not live downtown. And it’s Friday night, and I did not want to head downtown just to eat cheesecake.
But dammit, I really wanted that cheesecake.
Vince said I could text him if I needed anything, so I decided to take him up on that offer. I also asked him to get me some dumplings, which I’m not exactly craving, but they sounded really good to me, and why not? The dumpling place is near Cheese & Me.
I just buzzed him in, so my cheesecake will be here any minute. My mouth is watering.
There’s a knock on the door. I’m standing right next to it—yes, I’m that excited—so I open it right up.
“Did you get everything?” I ask, suddenly worried he failed in his mission.
“Yep.” Vince hands me two bags, then takes off his shoes and coat, and oh my God, he’s wearing a three-piece gray suit underneath.
