Page 31 of Pregnant By the Playboy

Instead of suddenly figuring out how to answer yes or no questions, Evie shoves her whole hand in my mouth, and this is a little weird, but if she’s having fun—

“Oh my fucking God!”

That shriek is me.

Holy shit. That hurt.

I pull Evie’s hand out of my mouth and pass her over to Cedric so I can curl up in a ball and whimper.

Okay, that’s not quite what I do, but it’s easier to nurse my pain without a baby in my arms. Especially a bloodthirsty baby like Evie.

“What happened?” Cedric asks, and I can tell he’s holding back laughter. The bastard.

“She scratched the roof of my mouth with all five of those sharp little claws.”

Evie smiles, as though pleased with her accomplishment.

“Don’t worry, I still love you,” I say.

She lets out a whopper of a fart in response, and given how Cedric is holding her, the smell goes directly into his nose. He makes a disgusted face. Before he can put her down, she farts again, extra moist.

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Yeah, I really love you, Evie. I forgive you for all the stitches I’m going to need. Always fart in Uncle Cedric’s face, okay?”

“Do you think she pooped?” Cedric asks. “We should find Courtney.”

“Nah, I can change a diaper.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“A few times, yes.”

Soon, this will be a regular occurrence in my life.

I’m okay with that.

* * *

That evening, rather than changing poopy diapers, I’m living the Vince Fong lifestyle.

I’m wearing a three-piece suit—I think I look particularly fine in a three-piece suit, if I do say so myself—and sitting in the lounge of a fancy Financial District restaurant with Brian Poon. The restaurant is on the forty-second floor, so we have a nice view of the city at night.

I met Brian when I came back to Toronto after selling my company. He was also young and rich and not terribly busy, plus he hosted great parties. We started hanging out regularly.

Brian takes a sip of his very expensive whiskey—he has ridiculously posh tastes, whereas I’m not quite as picky—and glances again at the trim white guy in the corner. The man is casually dressed for a venue like this, though I bet that sweater wasn’t cheap.

“Just go talk to him already,” I say. “You’re undressing him with your eyes.”

“We need to find a lady for you first.”

“Nah, I’ve had enough sex lately.” A lie, but I will not be picking up a woman tonight.

“Not interested at all?” Brian frowns. “Is something wrong with your dick?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just don’t feel like picking up tonight.”

My friend looks at me like I have three heads. “What about that lady in the red-sequined dress by the window?” He tilts his head toward a South Asian woman.

I picture Marissa wearing the same dress.