Pregnant by the Playboy (Fong Brothers, #1) Read online

  I swore I’d never go the sperm-donor route because I didn’t want to be a single mom, even though I think I’d be a good mother.

  I would have given anything to spend a little time with my own father. I always dreamed my child would have that connection, the one I didn’t have.

  But although Vince and I aren’t together, that doesn’t mean he can’t be part of the child’s life. I doubt he’d want to be heavily involved—it would cramp his wild bachelor lifestyle—but he’s a decent guy.

  He’s definitely not the worst father I could imagine for my child.

  And he had a picture of his little niece on his phone and seemed rather taken with her. It’s not much to go on, but he loves that child, and he would love ours, wouldn’t he? He’d be the cool father who’d show up a few times a month and spoil the kid rotten. I’d have to be the disciplinarian, but that’s okay.

  I can’t believe I’m having a baby with a man I hardly know.

  Because yes, I think I’m going to have this baby.

  The child will have their cool father, and maybe I’ll be able to give them a stepfather, too.

  The child will also have their grandmother, and they can call Larry “grandpa.” Grandparents, right here in the city! Larry’s daughter and her wife have a kid. A cousin!

  Then I think of Vince’s family, and it’s nearly enough to make me sob. He has a grandmother who calls him on Saturday morning. He has parents and brothers and a niece. All in Toronto, I think.

  My child could be spending holidays with the Fongs. They’re giants in the Chinese community here. Being part of that family would be a huge advantage.

  And then there’s the money.

  It seems wrong to think of it now, but I can’t help it.

  Vince is rich, and his family is rich. I have zero idea how child support works, but surely he could provide one or two thousand a month or pay for childcare. He’d hardly feel that.

  I make decent money and have a comfortable life. I could afford a child, although it would be a bit tough, seeing as Toronto is far from a cheap city. But with a little help from Vince, it would be no problem.

  I take a few deep breaths. I’m starting to feel better. I’ve thought about it logically, haven’t I? Sure, this isn’t what I imagined, but I can make it work.

  Who would have thought that a hot two-night stand would lead to this? My one wild weekend of stress relief?

  Yeah, this child is never, ever going to hear the story of how I met their father. I’ll just say something vague like, “We met through friends.”

  It’s not even a lie.

  After work today, I’ll get some prenatal vitamins and schedule a doctor’s appointment. And then I’ll contact Vince. I don’t want to tell anyone else until I’ve talked to him. There’s a small chance he won’t want to be involved.

  If so, what will I do?

  * * *

  Telling your fling that you’re pregnant seems like something that should be done in private, so I’ve invited Vince to my condo. Fortunately, I already had his phone number. I asked for it before he took me home from the party, then texted it to Carrie, just in case.

  Yesterday, I told him that I wanted to see him again, no more details.

  He agreed.

  And now I’m sitting at my kitchen table, waiting.

  My phone rings. I buzz him up, then start pacing. What if Vince isn’t who I think he is? I only spent one weekend with him. I’m basing some of my assumptions on the two seconds I saw him looking at the picture of his niece.

  Oh, no.

  I feel queasy.

  Is it nerves? Or morning sickness?

  I know morning sickness isn’t necessarily limited to the mornings. Pearl puked all day long. For three months. God, could I handle puking all day for three months?

  There’s a knock on the door. My heart pounding, I open it up.

  As soon as I see Vince, wearing a winter jacket on top of jeans and a sweater, I decide to just get it over with. I was going to make tea, and I’d bought some cookies, hoping that would somehow make the news go down easier.

  But fuck it.

  “I’m pregnant and you’re the father and I’m keeping it,” I say in a rush.

  He looks at me like he didn’t understand a word I said.

  “I’m pregnant,” I repeat.

  He says nothing, just nods.

  “And you’re definitely the father. I haven’t been with anyone else in a long time.”

  He nods again.

  “And I’m planning to keep it.”

  Vince just looks at me for another moment. My heartbeat quickens, and I worry he’s pissed and won’t want anything to do with this child.

  “I’m going to be a dad?” he says, and it sounds...hopeful.

  “Assuming everything goes well, yeah.”

  He grins.

  I did not expect this reaction, but as the seconds tick by, his grin only grows.

  “It’s important to me that you’re involved,” I say.

  “Of course.”

  Vince envelops me in a hug

  And then he does something I really did not expect.

  He drops to one knee, takes my hand, and says, “Will you marry me?”

  Chapter 8

  Vince

  Marissa responds to my proposal by kicking me in the shin.

  “Stop messing with me,” she says.

  “I’m not messing with you,” I insist. “Let’s get married.”

  When Marissa asked me to come over, I figured she wanted to have sex again. Usually, I would have said no, but she’s been haunting my dreams and I crave her touch.

  But that’s not what happened.

  A baby like Evie. But mine.

  As soon as I wrapped my head around the idea, I loved it.

  Now I have a purpose in life, the thing that eluded me for so long.

  The picture in my mind is crystal clear. Me, Marissa, and a cute little bundle that giggles when I press their nose. The three of us.

  It’s not often I set my mind to anything, but once I do, I get it done.

  I’m going to make that image a reality.

  Yes, it’s impulsive. That’s who I am. I walked in here five minutes ago with zero intention of proposing. In fact, I’d never seriously thought of marriage before in my life. My university girlfriend and I may have talked about it vaguely. Later, I had no time for a relationship, and after I sold the company, I just wanted to have fun. I didn’t want commitment.

  When Julian started seeing Courtney, I did think about relationships briefly but figured it just wasn’t me. Secretly, I also wondered if I was unlovable and too broken for a relationship.

  But now, I know what I need in my life. This will make me whole.

  “You can’t propose to me just because we’re having a baby,” Marissa says.

  “Why not?”

  “A baby outside of marriage isn’t some big scandal now. I appreciate your attempt to do the right thing, something I don’t think you’re well acquainted with—”

  I interrupt her words with a peal of laughter.

  Yeah, I like this woman.

  “Darling,” I drawl. “You—”

  “I haven’t agreed to marry you. Don’t calling me ‘darling.’”

  “Fine. Marissa, you are correct. But I want this, I do. You, me, and the baby. I think we can make it work. Why not?”

  “I’m not marrying someone I barely know. It’s ridiculous. If we were together, maybe it would be different, but I can’t even imagine you having a girlfriend, let alone getting married. I’m sure you’ll feel differently tomorrow.”

  I finally get up from the floor and sit on a chair. “I’ll feel the same way, and for your information, I’ve had relationships before.” I’m pleased I can prove her wrong.

  “How long was the longest one? Three weeks?”

  “Try two years.”

  She seems vaguely impressed. Then she narrows her eyes. “When was this?”

 
“Let me think...I believe we broke up when I was twenty-two.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, neither of us has had a kid before.” I pause. “You don’t have a kid, do you?”

  “I do not.”

  “But we’ll figure that out. We can figure out marriage, too.”

  “Vince.” She grits her teeth. “I’m not marrying a man I don’t love.”

  “I’m very lovable.” I bat my eyelashes.

  She snorts out a reluctant laugh.

  The truth, however, is that my words are all false bravado.

  I know I’m likable. Entertaining. The kind of guy people enjoy having around. But lovable? I’m still not sure about that. I fear I’m all flash and no substance, a bit of a mess. If someone really gets to know me, will they want what they see?

  “And you don’t love me,” she says. “We’ve spent all of one weekend together.”

  “Some people fall in love at first sight.”

  “You fell in love when I walked up to you and shoved my tongue down your throat?”

  I pretend to think about this as I look Marissa up and down. Today, she’s wearing jeans and a pink sweater—nothing as glamorous as the night I met her, but she’s a beautiful woman, even if she seems a little annoyed with me.

  “That’s lust,” she says.

  “I know. I don’t love you,” I admit, “but I think I’ll come to love you. I mean, we have great chemistry, and that weekend we spent together was the best time I’d had in months.” I used to be pretty doubtful about my ability to love, but that’s changed in recent months, even if I have doubts that someone could feel that way about me.

  Her face softens. “It was pretty great. And now we have to deal with the consequences.”

  “We used a condom every time, didn’t we?” I ask, but I’m pretty sure of the answer. I’m always careful about condoms.

  “Yeah. Have you ever gotten anyone pregnant before?”

  “Not that I know of.” This birth control failure is a first for me.

  She looks down. “I got pregnant in undergrad. I terminated it right away. There was no way I was prepared to be a parent.”

  I still. “Are you thinking of terminating this one? You said you’re keeping it.”

  It’s her choice, of course, but I’ve already become attached to the idea.

  “I wasn’t completely sure I would if you weren’t onboard, but I’m definitely keeping it now. I’ve always wanted a child, and I’m at a good place in my life.”

  “But you’re not in a good place to get married.”

  “To someone I don’t love? Hell no. That’s not an option for me, ever.” She pauses. “I figure I’ll have custody, and you can visit once or twice a week. When the child gets a little older, you can have one weeknight and one or two weekends a month.”

  “I want to be more involved.”

  “Sure. And you’ll tell your family? You won’t keep this a secret from them?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I didn’t have any extended family in Canada. I want that for my child.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She smiles faintly. “I thought you’d want to be a little involved, but not a lot. I figured it wouldn’t fit with your lifestyle.”

  “I’m not attached to my lifestyle.”

  She shakes her head, not believing me, I expect. “I’m glad you want to be an important part of the child’s life, but I still don’t think you actually want to get married—not that I’d say yes anyway. You’re just overwhelmed by the news and don’t know what to make of it. Besides, you’re not the kind of guy I’d even date.”

  I’m not surprised, but it still stings a little. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re...you. You’ve always got a different woman in your bed. You’re known for partying all night and jetting off to glamorous locations and doing who knows what kind of drugs.”

  “That part is mostly exaggeration.” There was a point when I tried a lot of things, but now, I’m pretty tame.

  Which is probably still wild from Marissa’s point of view. The night at Brian’s was an anomaly for her, whereas it was just business as usual for me.

  But I’m kind of tired of that life, and I’ve been wanting something to do with myself.

  This? It’s perfect.

  I just have to convince her.

  I’ll prove that I can be everything she thinks I’m not. I can’t blame her for the view she has of me. I’ve cultivated that persona.

  But it’s not all I am.

  “I’ll come to your appointments,” I say. “Have you had any yet?”

  “I’m seeing my doctor next week, but there’s no need for you to come to that.”

  “I want to.”

  She sighs. “I don’t feel comfortable discussing my health in front of you.”

  “Let me drive you there and back, then. Sit in the waiting room.”

  “Okay.”

  I refrain from pumping my fist in victory.

  She won’t marry me, but she’ll let me drive her to an appointment! It’s a start.

  “Of course, there’s a chance I might miscarry,” she says. “I haven’t told anyone else about the pregnancy yet, but I plan to tell my mother and a friend. I’d like you to wait until I’ve gotten to twelve weeks before telling your family, though.”

  “No problem.”

  I leave Marissa’s place several minutes later, after she insists on feeding me cookies. She awkwardly gives me a hug and says she’ll text me the details of the appointment.

  I smile as I wait for the elevator. I’m going to be a dad and a husband! Sure, she rejected my proposal, but somehow, I’m going to do it. Marissa...

  Oh, shit, I don’t even know her last name.

  Well, I will learn Marissa’s last name, and then I’ll hopefully get her to fall in love with me and accept my marriage proposal.

  There’s a slight twinge in my chest at the thought.

  I have some serious doubts that this is all possible—will she really be able to love me?—but I’m trying to be optimistic.

  I hope that optimism isn’t misplaced.

  Chapter 9

  Marissa

  Maybe this was a mistake.

  I’m standing in the parking lot at work, bundled up in my winter jacket. It’s freaking cold. I’ve only been outside for a minute, and my teeth are already chattering.

  I look at my watch again. Vince is supposed to pick me up in three minutes.

  When he offered to drive me, I thought I’d give him a chance to prove he’s a little responsible. Besides, my doctor’s office is near Yonge and Eglinton, and the traffic and parking situation is a nightmare around there, thanks to the LRT construction. It would be nice to let someone else deal with that.

  But now I’m convinced he’s going to be late.

  I pull my toque lower over my ears and look at my watch again. It’s eleven thirty-eight, and I’m supposed to be taking a long lunch to have this doctor’s appointment. If he’s not here in five minutes, I’m driving myself.

  Just then, a black sports car screeches into the parking lot and pulls up in front of me. Vince jumps out of the driver’s seat and runs around to open the passenger’s door.

  “That’s really not necessary,” I tell him.

  In response, he smiles.

  He really is a handsome man. Maybe he’ll pass those good looks onto our baby. I still can’t believe I’m having a baby with this guy.

  He gets in the car, and we’re off.

  “You thought I wasn’t going to show up on time, didn’t you?” he says.

  “I, uh...”

  “You have so little faith in me. It hurts.” He doesn’t sound hurt at all, though. He presses his hand to his heart before putting it back on the steering wheel. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you.” He graces me with another winning smile. “By the way, what’s your last name? I realized I’d proposed to a woman without even knowing her last name.”

  “It
’s Chan.”

  “Marissa Chan, you might be skeptical, but my proposal was serious. I’ve had a week to think about it, and I’m not retracting it. The proposal is still on the table, if you ever change your mind. Which I hope you will.”

  I do not understand this man. At all. He’s a legendary playboy, and yet when I told him I was having his baby, he wanted to marry me?

  “As I told you,” I say, “I’m not marrying a man I don’t love. Nor am I marrying a man I don’t believe could be faithful to me.”

  He whips his head toward me before turning back to the road. “I can be faithful.” This time, he does sound a bit hurt. “Actually, I haven’t been with anyone since you, and I promise to be faithful to you from now on.”

  “We’re not in a relationship, Vince.”

  “I’ll do it anyway, just to prove it to you.”

  “I’ll have no way of knowing if you’re telling the truth.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

  I don’t know what to say. Should I trust him? Yes, he has his reputation, but he’s been pretty good to me. He was an attentive lover, and he picked me up exactly when he said he would. I shouldn’t assume his history of casual sex means he couldn’t be faithful if he wanted.

  “I’ll try,” I say.

  “Good. How have you been feeling?”

  “Not too bad.” I don’t feel like telling him about the fatigue and swollen breasts.

  We sit in silence for the rest of the drive. Vince drops me off right out front, then goes to park the car and returns five minutes later.

  When he sits down, he opens up an enormous book on pregnancy. He’s two-thirds of the way through the book.

  I feel like a slouch.

  And I’m the one who’s pregnant.

  I’m touched, although perhaps he’s doing this all for show.

  “Look at this.” He pulls out his phone and opens an app. “It tells you what to expect for each week of pregnancy and how big the fetus is and...lots of other things.”

  Oh. It never even occurred to me to look for a pregnancy app.

  “Can you text me the name of it?” I ask.

  “Sure thing.” A moment later, my phone pings. “I was wondering...do you plan on finding out the sex of the baby? I mean, not now, obviously. It’s too early.”