The Office Rival: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

“Yes, she wants to be involved.”

“But… but how can I allow someone else to be involved in my child’s life? I don’t know her,” I tell him, trying to calm myself down. I hadn’t even thought about that being a possibility, and now the reality of it frightens me to the core.

“You don’t know me either,” he reminds me.

“No, I don’t, but you’re the father.”

“And that’s another thing…” he hesitates, avoiding further eye contact until he has no choice but to look me straight in the eyes. “I’d like to have a paternity test done.”

Deeply staring at me, his facial expressions remain stagnant as he waits for me to rationally respond to his request. Fat fucking chance. He outright called me a whore, again. The anger is bubbling at the surface, and I am gripping my clutch so tightly under the table, I expect the contents to explode. Emotions are difficult to disguise at the best of times, and this moment is far from the best of times.

I stand up, and with shaky hands, give him the reality check he needs. “You know what, Haden? I don’t get you. One minute I think you’re not such a bad guy and may actually have a heart beating somewhere, then the next, you act like the biggest asshole to walk this earth.”

My pride, dignity, and lack of self-control are the reasons I have to walk away.

“I’m leaving. You can have your test. In fact, I’ll be booking it as soon as possible, so maybe then you’ll get it through your thick skull that you are the father.”

Saying goodbye to everyone is difficult in the state of anger I’m in, but I manage to plaster on a fake smile, doing my rounds until I can go home and officially climb into a dark hole.

This isn’t going to work.

This complete stranger walks into my life, and every time we are in the same air space, it ends disastrously.

I blame him—immature and stubborn like the rest of that generation.

Jason, on the other hand, he was mature, polite, respectful. That means crap right now because it isn’t his sperm doing laps in my uterus.

A quick taxi ride home, I strip and get into bed. I don’t attempt reading, hoping the exhaustion will knock me out. Staring at the dark ceiling, my mind is playing tricks on me, and when the light of my phone brightens the room, I welcome the distraction.

Haden: I don’t know what I’m thinking when I’m around you. Seeing your stomach tonight was a reality check. I don’t know how to be a dad.

I quickly type the first thing that comes to mind with no filter from this hormonal pregnant woman.

Me: I’ll book the appointment first thing next week. You’ll get your answers. Then I’m off to visit my family for a few days. You don’t have to see me which is probably for the best.

Just when I place the phone down on my nightstand, there is a knock on my door. Late-night knocks aren’t exactly safe unless, of course, Vicky’s been out on the town. So, armed with my frying pan and baseball bat for safe measures, I walk toward the door and stare through the peephole.

It’s him.

I unlock the deadbolt and pull off the chain to open the door. He is leaning against the door frame with no jacket and his hair a wild mess. I can’t detect any alcohol on his breath, and his eyes appear crystal clear behind his frames.

“You don’t need to do th

e test. I shouldn’t have asked for it.”

“Too late. You did, and well, maybe it’s for the best.” I cross my arms, noticing his stare fixated on my tank top that is semi see-through. He’s a guy, they are like magnets to breasts, and my breasts could qualify to be their own planets right now.

Don’t read anything more into this.

Quick to bring his tortured gaze back up to my face, he carries on. “I want to come with you to visit your family.”

Shocked by the change of subject, I stare back at him oddly. “Why would you want to do that? They know the whole story.”

“Because they need to meet me. I’m going to be around their grandchild every day. Surely, that counts for something.”

Did he just tell me he’s going to be around the baby every day? This is getting more complicated by the minute. I am confused, to say the least, plus it’s after midnight and well past my bedtime. No good can come from this conversation.

“I really don’t think—”