Page 20 of Pregnant By the Playboy

As soon as I wrapped my head around the idea, I loved it.

Now I have a purpose in life, the thing that eluded me for so long.

The picture in my mind is crystal clear. Me, Marissa, and a cute little bundle that giggles when I press their nose. The three of us.

It’s not often I set my mind to anything, but once I do, I get it done.

I’m going to make that image a reality.

Yes, it’s impulsive. That’s who I am. I walked in here five minutes ago with zero intention of proposing. In fact, I’d never seriously thought of marriage before in my life. My university girlfriend and I may have talked about it vaguely. Later, I had no time for a relationship, and after I sold the company, I just wanted to have fun. I didn’t want commitment.

When Julian started seeing Courtney, I did think about relationships briefly but figured it just wasn’t me. Secretly, I also wondered if I was unlovable and too broken for a relationship.

But now, I know what I need in my life. This will make me whole.

“You can’t propose to me just because we’re having a baby,” Marissa says.

“Why not?”

“A baby outside of marriage isn’t some big scandal now. I appreciate your attempt to do the right thing, something I don’t think you’re well acquainted with—”

I interrupt her words with a peal of laughter.

Yeah, I like this woman.

“Darling,” I drawl. “You—”

“I haven’t agreed to marry you. Don’t calling me ‘darling.’”

“Fine. Marissa, you are correct. But I want this, I do. You, me, and the baby. I think we can make it work. Why not?”

“I’m not marrying someone I barely know. It’s ridiculous. If we were together, maybe it would be different, but I can’t even imagine you having a girlfriend, let alone getting married. I’m sure you’ll feel differently tomorrow.”

I finally get up from the floor and sit on a chair. “I’ll feel the same way, and for your information, I’ve had relationships before.” I’m pleased I can prove her wrong.

“How long was the longest one? Three weeks?”

“Try two years.”

She seems vaguely impressed. Then she narrows her eyes. “When was this?”

“Let me think...I believe we broke up when I was twenty-two.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, neither of us has had a kid before.” I pause. “You don’t have a kid, do you?”

“I do not.”

“But we’ll figure that out. We can figure out marriage, too.”

“Vince.” She grits her teeth. “I’m not marrying a man I don’t love.”

“I’m very lovable.” I bat my eyelashes.

She snorts out a reluctant laugh.

The truth, however, is that my words are all false bravado.