Page 26 of Pregnant By the Playboy

I turn to the side, and the woman thrusts a garbage can in front of me before I throw up.

Yeah, this is great advertising for the food.

“I’m pregnant,” I explain.

I haven’t told my friends and family that I’m pregnant yet, but now I’ve told a woman at the grocery store.

A bunch of people glance in our direction, concerned looks on their faces.

“It’s not the food!” I say. “The food is lovely, I’m sure.”

Alright. Maybe I’ll get my groceries delivered.

* * *

The next day, I drive to Mom and Larry’s for dinner. When I step into their townhome, a burning smell greets my nose, and Larry is pulling the battery out of the smoke detector.

Fortunately, smoke doesn’t make me as queasy as sautéed mushrooms.

“He burnt dinner,” Mom says. “But do not worry, I have ordered sushi, including spicy tuna. It’s still your favorite, yes?”

I must have a panicked look on my face—I assume that’s why she frowns.

“Hey, Marissa,” Larry says once the smoke detector has stopped beeping. “You want a glass of wine?”

“Umm.” What are they going to offer me next? Soft cheese?

My mother’s mouth falls open.

“Are you pregnant?” she asks, just as Larry’s kids walk into the hallway.

When I continue to stand there, speechless, she pulls me into the front room, separated from the rest of the floor by French doors.

I’d planned to tell my mother today. I thought I’d pull her aside after dinner and explain the situation, and then she could tell Larry, since I wouldn’t expect her to keep secrets from her husband. I certainly hadn’t planned on everyone finding out like this.

Man, I’m going to miss spicy tuna rolls. And wine. I love wine.

“Yes, I’m pregnant,” I tell my mother once we’re seated next to each other on the couch.

She takes my hands in hers. “I had no idea you were trying.”

Hahaha. As if.

“What is it like to go to a sperm bank? Do they give you profiles of the sperm donors and you get to choose?”

Oh, Mom.

“The baby was conceived the old-fashioned way.”

“But you are not seeing anyone.”

“Mom. You know that’s not required.”

She blushes. “Do you know who the father is?” A little worry creeps into her voice.

“I do.”

“And? He is a good man?”