Page 38 of Pregnant By the Playboy

I’m relieved, aren’t I?

Despite his ridiculous proposal when I told him I was pregnant, Vince has been good at not intruding in my life where I don’t want him, but still being there when I ask.

And he’s a hell of a good kisser and wears that suit so well it would make angels weep.

God, that kiss...

I press my fingertips to my mouth before standing up and walking him to the door.

“See you soon,” I say. “At the ultrasound, if nothing else.”

“If you develop any cravings you want me to satisfy, be sure to let me know.” He winks.

“Vince—”

“Like, say, you really want some har gow. Or aloo gobi. Or Portuguese egg tarts. Anything like that. Why, what were you thinking?”

I fix him with my death glare. “Go, Vince.”

“Alright, I’m going.”

But before he does, he presses a quick kiss to my cheek.

I clean up the kitchen and write out my grocery list for tomorrow—definitely need to stock up on salted caramel ice cream and pretzels—and that kiss lingers.

What will Vince do now? He said his friend was trying to pick up, but surely he has other things to do this Friday night. Parties to attend, exclusive night clubs to check out?

If I’d asked him to stay to watch a movie and snuggle up on the couch...would he have?

Vince and I are now stuck in each other’s lives, but even though I’m attracted to him, I’m not going to make out with him again. We’re going to be co-parents; that’s what is important, and I can’t imagine us actually being together, even if he feels otherwise. At this point, anything physical would just complicate matters.

Next time, I will control my urges. I blame my little slip-up on pregnancy hormones and that mouth-watering suit.

Sure, the man who got me pregnant is hot, but I can resist him.

No problem.

Ha.

* * *

Saturday afternoon, I head to an independent coffee shop on Mount Pleasant and order a London fog. A few minutes later, Pearl Liang orders a latte and sits down across from me.

I’ve known Pearl for years. We used to hang out all the time, but now she has two small children and a full-time job, and it’s hard to coordinate our schedules.

It’s so good to see her for the first time in months. I give her a hug.

She tilts her head. “You look different. New haircut?”

“No.” I pause. “I’m pregnant. Maybe that’s it.”

“You’re pregnant.” Her eyes widen, but when I smile at her, she smiles back. We hug again. “Congratulations. Wow, I really am out of the loop. Who’s the guy you’re seeing?”

“I’m not seeing anyone. Just a guy I spent a night—okay, two nights—with. Apparently, our birth control failed, and here I am. Pregnant.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but I never imagined you having a child outside of a relationship. You used to talk about wanting a two-parent family for your child.”

“The father will still be involved, which is important to me. But I’m getting old, and I’d like a kid. I need to be flexible.”