Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

“Because we had unprotected sex and you don’t seem to care.”

I smile and go back to my book. “It will be here early next week.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m on the pill.”

“You’re on the pill?” he gasps.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that? This is need to know information. Why have we been using condoms?”

“Because I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“In condoms, Charlotte

,” he snaps. “In condoms.”

“You can stop stressing.”

“I wasn’t stressing.”

“You were, you’ve been stressing all week over it, I know you have.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m getting to know you, and I know when something is bothering you.”

“Why didn’t you say something to put me out of my misery?”

“Because I wanted you to ask me when my period was due and have this conversation.”

He narrows his eyes and crawls over me, holding himself up on his elbows. “I have a good mind to punish you right now for freaking me out about impending fatherhood. That was evil. I’ve been fucking frantic.”

I laugh out loud. “You idiot. Why didn’t you just ask?”

He kisses me, and that’s his only answer.

“We’re going to Greece tomorrow, remember?”

He smiles broadly. “We are.”

“What are we going to do in Greece?”

“Eat, drink, swim, and fuck.”

I laugh out loud. “You are a born romantic, Spencer Jones.”

My phone dances on the table, the name Dad lighting up the screen. “You need to be quiet.” I jump up and get it.

Spencer rolls his eyes, unimpressed.

“Hello, Dad.” I sit back down beside Spencer.

“Hello, darling.” My father’s kind voice drifts down the phone.

Spencer’s eyes light up with something, and he drops to the floor between my legs. My eyes widen and I shake my head, mouthing the word, “No.”

He smiles mischievously and begins to tug my pyjama pants down. I push his head away. “What’s been happening, Dad?” I ask, trying to sound casual.