My eyes are heavily studying the pile in the carpet and slowly but steadily move up and trace his shoes. They are shiny black with a slight point. His pants are navy, tailored to enhance his lean physique. Making sure my eyes avoid his crotch, I slowly scan the buttons on his shirt until I have no choice but to acknowledge his face. My eyes linger on his lips. They are full and deliciously pink, parted slightly to reveal his straight teeth. Just do it, just look at his goddamn eyes because everyone is staring at you.
One, two, three, and there they are. Haden is watching, and his simple stare has shot right through me, sitting in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it’s the four months apart, a new hairstyle, or new clothes, but something about him is different. He looks well, sexy.
He is going to be your baby daddy.
You have to live the rest of your life around this man.
He has no fucking clue I am the devil in disguise right now.
So why is he looking at me with an odd, yet familiar stare?
There is a woman, or rather, a girl beside him. Standing only just to his shoulders, she smiles kindly and introduces herself as Eloise. She has perfect blonde tresses sitting on her couture dress. With her ruby red lipstick and long dark eyelashes, she is quite a stunning girl.
“Eloise is Haden’s fiancée,” Marcus gloat’s.
Vicky moves her head in a not-so-subtle way toward me, watching my reaction and yelling with her eyes, “OMG, what the fuck?”
The shock and enormity of the situation are constricting my vocal cords, forcing me to reach out my hand and congratulate them. I manage to mumble something congratulatory, and when Haden’s hand touches mine, I don’t want to let go.
He watches our hands touch and holds on for a second before I pull away. Behind his glasses, his eyes fall upon me in silence until Vicky opens her mouth, breaking his gaze.
“So, you got engaged in London?”
“Paris, actually. Haden popped the question, and I said yes!” She flashes her ring, which I pretend to be interested in. There is something about princess cuts and Harry Winston in the same sentence. Wow, I had no idea he had money since he bummed around so much. Okay, that is not the issue at hand. What the hell is happening here? I mean, did fate just leave another pile of dog shit on my porch or what.
He. Is. Engaged.
You. Are. Carrying. His. Baby.
Everything that could possibly have gone wrong, has gone wrong.
Words are being exchanged around me, yet I’m
deaf, falling into a dark hole and wishing I could rewind to the days when my biggest problem was Jason putting his white socks in with the pile of black ones.
“So, we should double date sometime,” Marcus insists.
“Triple date. Find me a man, Marcus,” Vicky adds.
“Hard to find you a man when you’ve slept with the whole city.”
A mini argument starts, and I turn to face my computer, fairly certain the contents of my stomach will soon end up all over my keyboard. I have been fortunate enough to avoid morning sickness, but I definitely know things are changing—including my appetite. I excuse myself and rush to the restroom.
Vicky follows straight after me. “You okay? Well, I know you’re not.”
“I can’t do this, Vicky.” I pace up and down the small restroom, then rush to the stall to vomit profusely. Vicky is holding my hair, rubbing my back until I flush the toilet and pull myself up.
Back at the basin, I repeatedly splash my face with cold water.
“You can do it because you have to,” she reminds me, gently.
“Vicky, he’s getting married. Four months is a short time to meet someone and get engaged, but fuck, I can’t ruin his life.”
“You’re not ruining it! You have a baby inside you. That’s a blessing.”
“Then why do I feel like it’s the worst thing that could happen to me?”
“Because you’re scared, Pres. My mom was sixteen when she had me. Then eighteen when she had my brother. That’s scary. You’re thirty-two. You can handle this.”