Page 96 of Pregnant By the Playboy
“No,” I whisper. “I can’t.”
“Why not? I love you. I want to spend my life with you.” He’s all earnestness now, and I hate it.
“We haven’t been together for long.”
“But I know what I want. And we’re having a baby together.”
“Yes, goddammit, I’m aware of that. Nobody is more aware of that than me.”
“Do you love me?” he asks.
“I’ve loved many men, but I didn’t marry any of them.”
“Do you love me?”
I shut my eyes. I can’t bear to look at him now. “No.”
We’re quiet for one long, horrible moment.
Then I open my eyes, and he says, “You act like you love me.”
“I care for you. I know you’ll be a good dad. But I can’t marry a man I don’t love. Put that goddamn ring away.”
Finally, he snaps the box shut and stows it back in his pocket.
“I’ve never felt this way before, Marissa.”
“I believe you love me, but I still feel like you’re desperate for me to save you. For me to give you this idyllic family life that you think will complete you. But it’s not going to be idyllic.”
“Look, I know there will be sleepless nights and utter exhaustion and piles of poopy diapers, but it will all be wonderful because I’m doing it with you.”
“It’s too much pressure. Being the center of Vince Fong’s universe. Being responsible for your fulfillment. What person could deal with that?”
“You don’t have to do anything special. You just have to be you.”
“It still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t love you.”
He turns away from me. “Dammit.”
I’ve never heard him angry like this before. Anger is just not part of who Vince is, and yet I’m doing this to him.
I wish I could say yes. Oh, I do.
But I can’t.
Something is holding me back from loving him. And besides, there’s the pressure. The whirlwind of this whole thing.
I just cannot. The thought of having that ring on my finger makes me cold. My life has changed so much lately. The baby is enough for now.
“I know why you can’t love me.” His voice has an unfamiliar edge to it. “Why I’ll never be good enough.”
“Vince, you’re—”
“Because I’ll never be as perfect as your father. The version of him that you’ve created in your head. Nobody can compete with that.”
“No! That’s not true.”
His eyes are hard stone. Me, I’m trying not to burst into tears. Stupid hormones.
