My Ex Boyfriend's Secret Baby - His Secret Baby

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I can see why you look forward to work,” Lila said.

“It is the best.”

“So, I’ve heard. I was here to hire you guys after all.”

I nodded, remembering her fainting. “Yeah, I figured. Are you still interested in that?” I asked.

“Um, yeah, I suppose. I kind of forgot about it.”

“There has been a lot going on,” I said.

“I suppose you would be the person to talk to?” Lila asked.

“To begin with, yeah. We try to keep our clients well informed at every step. You are going to need text first, and for that, I’m your guy.”

“Okay.”

“Great, what are you looking for?” I asked, getting out my Moleskine and pen.

“Well, it’s for the NGO,” Lila said, putting the empty bowl that had the mac and cheese down by her feet.

“Right, makes sense. What sort of thing are you looking for?”

We spent the next hour going over her ideas as I worked around with various ideas on how best to present them. We were close. Both physically and intellectually, everything we said instantly understood. Our odd sort of telepathy, developed over the years together, still holding after two years apart. It was almost a sensual experience, and I had to fight the urge to kiss her. I kept my hands to myself, and we came up with some excellent ideas for the ad copy.

“How did you come to be a copywriter?” she asked, leaning back into the couch.

“It was kind of roundabout actually. I was desperate for a job at the time and had an answered an ad looking for someone to work at the front desk. I got it and would write in my notebook when I got the chance. Nothing too fancy. Just concepts for projects I wanted to get going.”

“What kind of projects?”

“Film scripts mostly. A lot of them are sold by what is called an elevator pitch. Basically, a description of an idea that can be presented in the time it takes for an elevator to go up one floor.”

“Interesting.”

“Beau, who was the owner at the time, caught me at it and discovered, at about the same time I did, that I had a talent for breaking a concept down into it’s most vital elements and presenting them the most effective way. He helped me get through a certificate course to refine my presentation and technique and gave me a job as the junior copywriter. The head copywriter quit about six months ago, and I became the copywriter.”

As the ping-pong tournament geared up, we made our excuses and slipped out, heading down to my car. It was still early, and I remembered that there was a petting zoo nearby. Billy seemed to really like animals, so it seemed like a good idea.

“Are you sure you have the time?” Lila asked.

“Oh, sure, I’m well ahead of Lucky’s schedule. I’m all yours.”

“Okay.”

Bundling Billy into the car seat I had bought especially so he could come with us, heavy metal on the stereo, we drove to a park that had a by-donation petting zoo. The place was surprisingly crowded. There was actually a line to get in. I dropped a fifty into the donation bucket as we shuffled past, getting closer to the cute and cuddlies with every step.

I had called it right. Billy loved the place. Contenting himself with chasing baby goats, first by crawling, then on foot, before feeding them with pellets from the dispenser. The toddler was so excited that it wasn’t too long before he started yawning. This also happened to be bout the time that the sunlight began to wane on the horizon.

“How about dinner at my place?” I asked, the filter between my brain and my mouth shorting out for a moment.

“Sure,” Lila said.

Surprised but far too pleased to say anything that might make her change her mind, we headed straight for my car and drove back to my apartment. The goats not being the last rambunctious animals Billy would encounter that day.

Leaving Lucky chasing his tail around the living room, we went to the kitchen to start dinner. Lila even let Billy break the snap peas, something that amused him no end — particularly the sound. Lucky soon found his way into the kitchen, and the majority of the peas went to him rather than in the bowl.

The food done; we all went to the oversized dining room table, putting a cushion on the chair in place of a booster seat. It worked pretty well until about half-way through dinner when Billy started to nod off. I made a lucky catch and took him into the bedroom, laying him gently on the bed. No sooner did I get him down that Lucky jumped up beside him onto the bed, curling up beside Billy.

“He’s in good hands,” I said to Lila as we left the room.