Possessive Baby Daddy

9KlaraI wake up the morning after the puzzle challenge and don’t feel anything.

It’s strange. I thought I’d be angry. I was angry last night when I drove home from that school. I went to that elementary school, but I don’t bother telling Shaun that. It’s obvious that my father is trying to send me some kind of message through all these challenges, or at least it’s obvious to me now.

But I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know whatever insane message he’s trying to send. Maybe years of drinking and drug use and putting on reality TV shows has finally scrambled his brain beyond all recognition, and the only way he knows how to tell me how he feels is through these insane game show antics.

I’m done with that.

I can’t keep doing this. I know it, deep down inside. I’m afraid of what comes next, afraid of what it’ll mean for me and my future. And I’m tired, so tired, and so angry.

And pregnant.

God, I’m pregnant.

Every day is a new exercise in anxiety and fear. I’m afraid of having the baby, afraid of what’ll come after. I’m afraid I’ll never have the life I’ve always wanted because I got pregnant by a total stranger.

I’m just afraid. Every day, I’m afraid.

And I need to end it now.

I shower and get dressed. When I’m ready, I call Shaun, and he answers right away.

“Hey there,” he says. “Glad you called. I was thinking of you.”

“Can you come into the Truth Hurts office today?”

He hesitates. “I guess this isn’t a social call then.”

“No. Can you come in?”

“When?”

“Now. Whenever.”

“I can leave in ten.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there.”

I hang up the phone and stare at myself in the mirror.

I now this is the right thing, but it hurts, hurts so fucking much.

The drive isn’t too bad. There’s traffic of course, but I’m used to the traffic. I put on a podcast I like and lose myself in the mindless comedy. I pull into the lot just as Shaun’s getting out of his car.

“Hey,” he says, wandering over toward me.

“Hey.” I tilt my head. “Were you waiting?”

“I was,” he admits. “Is that weird?”

“No.” I smile at him. “It’s sweet.”

That makes him frown. “Okay. Are you being nice?”

“I don’t know.” I start walking to the building. “Does it matter? I mean, we don’t have to hate each other.”

“I don’t hate you,” he says, his voice low. “I don’t hate you at all, Klara. You know how I feel.”

I glance at him. “You think you want me. But you don’t really want me at all. You just want the idea of me.”

He laughs. “There’s no idea of you. There’s just you.”

“Come on, Shaun. We don’t know each other!”

“And yet you’re pregnant with my baby.” He stops and grabs my arms. He stares into my eyes, his grip tight, his gorgeous face intense. “Tell me you haven’t felt it,” he says.

“Felt what?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Every time we’re together, it’s all over your face.”

“What is?” I ask, my voice a whisper.

“Lust, but more than that. You like being around me.”

“You’re charming, that’s all.”

“No, I’m not. You just like me. You think I’m funny. We mesh, Klara.”

I stare at him and I know he’s right. I hate him for it a little bit, but I know he’s right. Which is why I have to do what I’m about to do.

“Come on,” I say, pulling away. His grip relaxes and he lets me go. “Let’s head inside.”

He follows me into the offices. We walk past Lucy and I barely even glance at her. I lead him through the cubes until we end up right outside of my father’s door.

I knock once, twice, then head inside.

He’s sitting back in his chair with his feet up on his desk smoking from a bong.

“Oh, god damn it, Dad,” I say.

“Shut the door,” he says, letting smoke curl from his mouth. He coughs and laughs, and the room stinks like weed.

Shaun sighs and shuts the door.

“You want some?” he asks. “Legal weed is the best weed.”

“No, thanks,” I say.

“I’m good,” Shaun adds.

“Suit yourselves.” He takes another huge hit, the water bubbling. He pulls out the stem and breathes in deep before blowing it back out in huge clouds. “God damn, that’s good stuff.”

I make a face and glance at Shaun. He’s shaking his head with a frown on his lips.

“What can I do for you two?” Dad says, putting the bong down.

“I want to talk to you both,” I say.

“Great, because we’re both here. Good morning, by the way.” Dad grins at us.

I move further into the office and lean back against a filing cabinet. Shaun stays near the door, his arms crossed. He glares at my father for a long moment before looking at me. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“This contest,” I say.