Page 77 of Pregnant By the Playboy

“My father is suspicious of you.”

“I thought you said everyone would love me.”

“I mean, I think so, but he’s the one I’m not sure about. He visited me a couple weeks ago and said he was worried you tampered with our birth control and were after my money or...something like that.” Vince winces. “He also asked if we’d had a paternity test.”

“If you want one,” I say, gripping the strap of my purse, “I’m happy to do so, though I’m not sure when it can be done in vitro.”

“No, you don’t have to. I trust you. I know you never would have done that to me.”

I understand how this must look to his father, but I can’t help feeling annoyed.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I wish I’d been prepared for this, though I appreciate Vince’s faith in me.

“I was hoping Dad would change his mind, but he didn’t, and then I forgot until today. I now think he has to meet you before he’ll change his mind.”

When we get out of the car, Vince squeezes my hand, and we walk up the path to the double front doors. He steps inside without knocking.

“We’re here!” he shouts as he takes off his shoes.

I don’t see anyone, but from somewhere in the house, I hear, “No, Evie!” and laughter.

A minute later, a man walks into the front hall. It must be one of Vince’s brothers, but they don’t look much alike, and this man’s default expression seems more serious than Vince’s.

“You must be Marissa,” he says. “I’m Julian. Nice to meet you.”

We shake hands.

“We’re all in the front room.” He jerks his thumb to the right. “Evie just crawled for the first time, then tried to grab my beer.”

“Oh, did she?” Vince laughs and turns to me. “Julian likes old man beer.”

Julian merely gives him a look.

Vince leads me into a room where several people are seated on couches and on the floor. Everyone is staring at the baby.

“Come on, Evie,” says a young woman. “Show Uncle Vince how you can crawl.”

Evie looks unimpressed.

“I know what she needs,” says a man—Vince’s other brother, I assume. I think his name is Cedric. He places a bottle of Labatt 50 a few feet away from Evie.

Evie crawls toward it.

Everyone laughs.

An elderly woman gets up from an armchair and hobbles toward me. “I am Vince’s po po.” She places her hand on my stomach.

I’m sure this will happen more often as I get bigger, but the idea of people I hardly know touching my stomach is uncomfortable.

“Po Po!” Vince says. “Only I get to touch Marissa like that.”

“Are you together now?” Po Po addresses this question to me.

“Yes,” I say.

“Ah, you are going to get married! I knew it would be this way.”

“We’re not getting married yet,” Vince says.