Page 15 of Pregnant By the Playboy

“What were you actually doing?” Po Po asks, putting down her chopsticks. “Aiyah, I never know when you are telling the truth and when you are lying.”

“In all honesty”—a lie, of course—“I hadn’t been up for long and was just making some coffee before playing videogames. Solid Saturday morning.”

“Maybe we should start surprising you with visits,” Mom says, “and see what you’re really doing.”

She sure knows how to strike fear into the heart of a man.

“Not a good idea,” Cedric says. “You never know what you could find.”

“Exactly,” Mom says. “That’s why I want to do it.”

“You might wish you hadn’t,” Julian murmurs.

The truth is, most of the time when I’m home, I’m not doing anything too exciting. Videogames are a frequent pastime, yes. Binge-watching shows on Netflix. Keeping tabs on my investments.

The more exciting stuff usually happens away from home, though I do host parties on occasion, and sometimes I have guests like Marissa.

The thought of my family interrupting such encounters is downright terrifying. My dad did that once, and I’m still recovering.

Fortunately, I think this is an empty threat.

My mother doesn’t make any more threats during the rest of dinner and dessert. Courtney feeds Evie, and then I hold my niece for a while.

When I get home, I play videogames before going to bed at midnight.

I can’t sleep, though. I stare at my ceiling and sigh.

How did I get here? What is the point of my life?

Nothing good ever comes from thinking about these questions.

I built a company and sold it for tons of money. I was good at it. I was great at it. But the thought of going back to that world scares the crap out of me. There have been offers from friends to join in their new ventures, and I always listen, then say it’s not quite right for me.

I remember the exhaustion and insomnia. The irritability, the cynicism—which isn’t like me at all. I remember the way I couldn’t focus and was barely functional by the end. Years later, I’m still picking up the pieces.

It destroyed my mental health, something that Courtney has helped me acknowledge.

When my family showed up at Julian’s office and demanded he take two weeks off work, my mother said she was worried about his health and feared he’d burn out, but I didn’t admit that I was worried, too. I mean, it’s Julian, and he’s always been good with hard work and pressure, but still. I couldn’t help thinking of my own experience.

Though I feel rather aimless now, it’s better to be a useless playboy than do something like that again.

I push these thoughts aside and roll over. Marissa isn’t there next to me, like she was the last two nights. She didn’t snore or hog the blankets, but she sprawled out while she was sleeping and nearly hit me in the face at one point.

I miss her.

Well, that’s just because of all the great sex, because she gave me the best weekend I’d had in a long time. Next weekend should be good, too. Brian and I are visiting a friend in NYC, and we always have fun there.

I fall asleep thinking of Marissa.

Chapter 6

Marissa

“How was your weekend?” Mom asks, lifting her chopsticks to her lips.

“It was good,” I say brightly. “Saw some friends and went shopping. Did some chores.”

I give her a big smile, not as an attempt to sell my lie, but because I’m thrilled she’s okay. I’d worried so much about the tumor, even though she kept telling me not to worry.