Page 46 of Pregnant By the Playboy
“No, no,” Vince says, “I want to hear the heartbeat. You can do that now, right?”
Yes. I waited for him, not wanting to hear it before he did. The ultrasound technician picks up the Doppler and places it on my stomach.
Soon, we hear it.
“Wow.” Vince is awestruck, and I can’t deny that I’m touched. “We made that.”
I feel a momentary longing to have something more with him, which has happened on occasion since my conversation with Pearl. Like the night I asked Vince to stay for a movie.
I shake my head. No, we’re going to be co-parents, that’s all.
I wouldn’t say I’m falling for Vince Fong, but I’m glad he’s the one in this with me.
* * *
When Vince and I leave the clinic, we head to a nearby Indonesian restaurant that I quite like. We get a table and order satay, nasi goreng, semur daging, and urab. The latter is a vegetable dish with grated fresh coconut, and it’s one of my favorites.
Our chicken satay with peanut sauce arrives, and I eagerly dig in. Though my stomach wasn’t doing so hot earlier, I’m hungry now.
Yep, that “pregnant and hungry” shirt would definitely be appropriate, but I only wear it at home. I found it online several weeks ago and couldn’t help myself from ordering it.
“By the way, I signed our baby up for daycare,” I say.
“Already? You’re planning on taking your full year of maternity leave, aren’t you?”
“I am, but you have to get on the waiting lists early. People often sign up well before the baby arrives.”
“Oh.” He has a bite of chicken. “I was thinking I could be a stay-at-home dad, actually.”
Although Vince said he wanted to be fairly involved, I never imagined him doing something like this.
“How would it work?” I ask tentatively. “Since we won’t be living together.”
“I’m still hoping you’ll change your mind about that. But if not, I can come over to your place every morning and leave when you get home, if that’s okay.” He pauses. “Assuming you would like to keep your job. If you want to stay home for a few years, I can arrange for that, financially. I figured you’d want to work, though.”
He’s right. Maintaining financial independence is important to me, and taking myself out of the workforce for a few years and having a gap in my resume could make things more difficult.
But I like the idea of our child being cared for at home, or maybe going to daycare part-time. It never occurred to me as a possibility, though. I couldn’t expect that much childcare of my mother, but if this is what Vince wants to do...
I just can’t wrap my mind around it. This man is known for going to parties all the damn time. Women. Alcohol. Looking hot in suits.
But the picture of him chasing after a toddler is just as attractive.
Maybe this would make my ovaries twitch if I wasn’t already, you know, pregnant.
The rest of our food arrives. The fried rice is a little greasy and delicious. The semur daging—a tender beef stew with sweet soy sauce and spices—is even better, and I moan in bliss. The urab is just as good as I remember and provides me with important vegetables.
I pop a green bean in my mouth and smile at Vince.
* * *
I haven’t seen Carrie Lo since the night of the party. She wants to meet at one of our usual bars downtown, and I don’t protest.
When she slides into the seat across from me, she asks, “What are you drinking?”
“Orange juice.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
