Page 57 of Pregnant By the Playboy

I wanted her to fall in love with me because she said love was a requirement for marriage for her. I figured I’d come to love her, but I didn’t think about my feelings too much; I was focused on Marissa.

And now, it’s happened.

I’ve fallen in love.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but sometime between the appointments and running around to get her food and kissing her in her kitchen and bantering and listening and tucking her into bed...

Yes, I’m in love now, and I’m determined that our first date—weird to think of a first date when she’s pregnant with my child—will be wonderful.

It can’t be too showy though, because Marissa wouldn’t like that.

She can’t drink alcohol or eat raw fish...and various other things, so there are some limitations. I also don’t want to go to any of my usual haunts, because I don’t want anyone to recognize me. I don’t think Marissa would enjoy that.

Well, this will be a bit of a challenge, but I’m up for it.

* * *

Friday night finally arrives.

I doubt Marissa wants to be shuttled around by a driver, so I drive myself. I park in the outside visitors’ parking area at her condo and take the elevator up to the third floor, as I’ve done several times before.

When she opens the door, I grin. She’s wearing a red dress that doesn’t show a huge amount of skin, but it clings to her curves. Curves I haven’t gotten a close look at since January.

But I remember every detail.

Her body looks a little different now, thanks to the pregnancy, and I feel a possibly-ridiculous sense of pride.

“Shit.”

That’s the first word she says to me.

“Are we going somewhere really fancy?” she asks, taking in my outfit. “I’m not dressed for that.”

“You look lovely,” I say, “but if you don’t feel like being seen with me in a three-piece suit, perhaps I can take you to the bedroom instead?” I lean casually against the doorframe.

She rolls her eyes.

I don’t know why, but I enjoy her eye rolls.

“No, we’re going out,” she says. “I can get changed if I need to.”

“You look perfect. Honestly, we’re not going anywhere fancy. I just enjoyed the way you threw yourself at me the last time I wore this.”

“I did not throw myself at you.”

I smirk at her expression of outrage. “Fine, fine, you didn’t throw yourself at me. You just said, and I quote, ‘You’re really fucking handsome in that suit,” and kissed me. Now, I have lots of plans for tonight. Let’s head out.”

We go downstairs and I help her into my car. I haven’t seen her in almost a week, not since I realized I love her, and it feels like far too long. I itch to touch her more, but I’ll save that for later.

It takes us close to half an hour to get to our destination. I park on the street and lead her to a bar on Ossington.

She looks at me skeptically. “Is the food really good?”

“No, we’re eating somewhere else.”

“You know I can’t drink.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”