Page 104 of Pregnant By the Playboy

But I can’t help wondering if there’s an element of truth to it.

Yes, my dad was a bit of a superhero in my mind. Perhaps, although I didn’t grow up with any important adult men in my life, that’s why I had high expectations of the men I dated.

Except I didn’t really have high expectations, did I? I just expected to be treated decently, and the fact that some people might see that as unrealistic is sad.

I don’t think Vince is right, but it still bothers me.

Sitting across from me is a woman, about my age, who looks very pregnant. She’s here alone, but she’s got a ring on her finger. We smile at each other.

The last time I had an ultrasound, I was suffering from morning sickness and puked in the garbage can when the couple nearby called Everclear “classic rock.”

That was seven weeks ago. A lot has happened in seven weeks.

Just then, I experience a strange fluttery feeling.

I grin. I think I just felt Baby move for the first time!

Oh, I wish Vince was here. I send him a text.

I wait a few minutes, but he doesn’t reply. He’s probably driving. He’ll be here soon.

Baby is apparently now the size of a mango or tomato. Last week, they were the size of a pepper. Honestly, a tomato is a terrible basis for comparison. Tomatoes vary a lot in size, don’t they? And I’m not talking grape or cherry tomatoes—I know that’s not what they mean—but all the others. Aren’t they often smaller than peppers?

Hell, maybe mangoes vary a lot, too. There’s just not a lot of variety in mangoes at my local grocery store.

This reminds me of my conversation with Vince about limes and plums.

God, where is he?

It’s less than five minutes until my appointment time.

A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been surprised. I would have chalked it up to him being Vince Fong, the playboy who somehow managed to knock me up. The guy who’d be the fun father, showing up a couple times a month to take our kid out for ice cream and play catch.

But I know him better now, and this isn’t like him.

I send him another text. Where are you??

Surely he should be out of his car by now, right? Hurrying from his parking spot to the ultrasound clinic?

He’s going to be late. It’s not like Vince to be late and not tell me anything.

In fact, it’s really not like him at all.

Whenever I have an appointment or an unbearable craving for cheesecake, he’s a hundred percent committed. Even when Cheese & Me was sold out of matcha double fromage cheesecake, he didn’t give up. He got me what I wanted.

Sure, things are a little awkward between us now, but he loves me. He loves Baby. He would be here no matter what.

One minute.

He would be here no matter what.

Unless...

My blood runs cold.

I put my hands on my stomach to comfort Baby, even though there’s nothing I can do to comfort myself.

Something terrible must have happened. That’s the only explanation.