Page 39 of Pregnant By the Playboy
“If you’re happy,” she says, squeezing my hand, “then I’m happy. Have you told your mother?”
“Yeah. It took her a minute to wrap her mind around it, but it was fine. She’s already sewing baby clothes.”
“If you have any questions about pregnancy, you know you can ask me, anytime. And since I’m officially done having kids, I have lots of things I don’t need anymore that I could give you. Like a baby bouncer.”
“That would be great.”
We talk for a while about pregnancy and her children—and what little adorable devils they are—until she says, “Okay, I have to ask. Who’s the father? You say he’s going to be involved, so I assume this isn’t a big secret. Do I know him?”
“No, but you might know of him. Vince Fong.”
“The name does sound familiar. Oh, is he Charles Fong’s son?”
“Yeah. The youngest one. The tech start-up guy.”
“He’s known for being, uh, quite popular with women, right?”
“Yep, and I fell for his charms.” And then I kissed him again last night. “But he’s really not so bad, and he was pretty excited when I told him about the pregnancy.”
“Marissa,” Pearl says, her voice laced with amusement.
Oh, God, I know that voice.
“Are you falling for him, maybe a little?”
“No,” I scoff.
She gives me a look.
This is the problem with knowing someone for more than two decades. She can read me too well.
“Well, he’s really hot,” I admit.
“I think I need to see what this man looks like.” Pearl pulls out her phone, and not much later, she lets out a low whistle. “He does look quite nice without a shirt.”
“What pictures are you looking at?” I grab the phone from her hand. I only have memories of what he looks like shirtless. Pictures would be nice.
I’m sure he’d take his shirt off for me if I asked, but I wouldn’t be able to stand his infuriating smirk.
The picture Pearl has pulled up is from a calendar, several years old now. I’ll have to tease him about this.
And yeah, he looks good, a cocky smile on his face, but something bothers me about his expression. I zoom in. Maybe if I’d never been up close and personal with him, I wouldn’t be able to tell, but he looks...exhausted. Like he’s barely holding it together.
“You haven’t Googled him before?” Pearl asks. “You would have easily found this photo if you had.”
“No, I was afraid of what I might find.”
“You’re having his kid, though.”
I sip my London fog. “Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t one of the guys I actually dated have gotten me pregnant?”
“Well...” Pearl says.
“Right. One of them did.”
Sanjay went to the clinic with me and held my hand. One day, he said, we’ll have a baby together. When the time is right.
But that didn’t happen. We broke up several months later. The relationship was comfortable and safe, but I didn’t love him enough.
