Page 75 of Pregnant By the Playboy
She laughs. “I was a bit worried, I won’t lie. Marissa has good taste in men, though. If she wants you to be in her life and the baby’s life, I’m sure you deserve it. But I like the idea of you being married—better for everyone, I think.” She takes a mobile out of the box. It appears to be Winnie-the-Pooh and his friends. “Her father made this for her. She told you about him?”
“She did.”
Bev nods but doesn’t say anything for a moment.
“You will have to pick up the box later,” she says, “to keep it a secret from Marissa. Then you can give it to her when the time is right. Can you visit on Wednesday?”
* * *
That night, I stay at Marissa’s again. I’ll leave in the morning when she goes to work, but for now, we’re here together for the third night in a row, and I can’t help smiling.
We had sex when we got home from visiting her mother, and now we’re lying in bed, our legs entwined.
“I still don’t get why you proposed as soon as I told you about the baby,” she says. “You barely knew me then. Why did you do it?”
“I wanted—still want—us all to be a family together.” I lace my fingers through hers.
“I know. It just seems out of character for you. Less so now that I know you better, but you know what your reputation is, and to propose to me right away...”
“The truth,” I tell her, “is that I’ve been pretty unfulfilled lately.”
“The parties, the drinking, the women, the special gummies—that’s not a fulfilling life?”
“After I burnt out and sold the company, that’s all I wanted to do. But with every passing year, my life started to feel more and more pointless. In some ways, I became less of a mess, but I still wasn’t doing anything of meaning. It felt like I had no value.”
“Vince,” she says, “your life has value.”
She strokes my face. I want to look her in the eyes, but it’s too much right now.
“And then you told me you were pregnant,” I say, my voice a little hoarse, “and it was like everything just fell into my lap. I hadn’t known exactly what I wanted before, but suddenly I knew, and I can be a little impulsive.”
“I’m glad you want to be a big part of our child’s life. I thought you’d be the fun dad who’d come around a few times a month, and I was okay with that, because it was more than I had. I would have loved to have that much. This is better, though. And you and me...”
My heart is thumping wildly. What she says next seems of vital importance.
“I’m glad we’re seeing each other, and not just because my hormones are out of control and you’re providing me with sex. Though you do a pretty bang-up job of that.” She absently runs her hand over my chest. “I know I was doubtful at the beginning, but I believe in your commitment now. I trust you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice a bit rough.
Several months ago, I never would have imagined that a woman saying I trust you would mean so much to me, but it does.
“And I can see you devote yourself to one thing at a time. You did nothing but work for years, and then you did nothing but cultivate your playboy image. Now, I worry you’re counting on me and the baby to be your whole life. Like we’re supposed to save you and define who you are. Which is not what I worried about before, but I do now. Yes, I know this baby is going to consume my life for a while, but other things are important to me, too. Like my job. Like watching The Great British Bake Off while enjoying a glass of wine and a slice of cheesecake.”
“And I will take Baby for a nice long walk so you can have your time alone. I know that’s important.”
“Yeah, and I believe you.” She pauses. “I’m not going to tell you to do the kind of work you used to do, but I just feel like you need more.”
“I’ll still see my friends on occasion, and I have the rest of my family.”
“But from what I know of you, you need something else. Are you involved in your father’s Toronto Chinese Canadian Center?”
“I give some money, but that’s all. It’s important work, but it’s not really my thing. As you might have been able to tell, I have a rather uncomfortable relationship with the Chinese community here. I feel a little removed from it.”
“Does that bother you?”
“On occasion.”
It’s strange to have a serious talk about my life with someone. Most of the conversations I have are not at all serious. Kidding around. I can do that with Marissa, too, but I appreciate this.
