Pregnant by the Playboy (Fong Brothers, #1) Page 9

  “No way!” she says. “Vince Fong is the father?”

  “Yep.” And somehow, I can’t help smiling as I say that.

  She stands up and gives me a hug. “OMG, this is so exciting! Are you excited? How are you feeling?”

  “I’m doing well now, actually.”

  “Vince knows you’re pregnant?”

  “Yeah. He’s excited, too. I had my first ultrasound today, and he came.”

  “It’s hard to imagine him as a father,” Carrie says, “but I’m glad. Maybe this is why he’s been acting weird.”

  “He has? You’ve seen him?”

  “Nah, but you know my friend Pru? She was at Brian’s party—although maybe that wasn’t until after you left. But she said something off-hand about Vince acting odd lately. He actually turned her down when she propositioned him!” Carrie says this quietly, confidentially, as though it’s the most shocking thing.

  Vince said he’d be faithful to me, and I’m pleased he seems to be keeping his word.

  It actually makes me a little giddy.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” I say. “Vince’s family doesn’t know yet, but he plans to tell them soon.”

  “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I mean, except for the fact that I yelled, ‘You’re pregnant?’ when you told me. But now, my lips are sealed.” Carrie mimes zipping her lips. “I am going to be the coolest auntie. None of my other friends have children yet, so I’ll have lots of time for yours.”

  “You’ll buy the most impractical baby clothes,” I say. With affection.

  “I will! Your baby is going to be so smart and good-looking, between you and Vince. You’re not together now, are you? It’s Vince Fong, so I wouldn’t assume so, but he did turn down Pru...”

  “He wants us to be a family. In fact, he asked me to marry him as soon as he found out I was pregnant.”

  “He did what?”

  Man, I enjoy the way Carrie gets so excited. Her energy is infectious.

  “He asked me to marry him,” I repeat with a smile. “I said no, of course. I hardly know him. Well, I know him better now than I did back then. The offer’s still on the table, and I’m not thinking of saying yes, not really, but...” I shrug. “Sometimes I think we could be together. Is that foolish of me?”

  There. I admitted it.

  “He is your baby daddy, and he’s pretty hot.”

  “That’s not enough, of course.”

  “No.” She pauses. “I don’t know him well, mostly just by reputation, but people do change. Maybe Vince could be a family man and a good husband.”

  “Whenever I’m craving something, he drops what he’s doing and brings it to me.” I tell her about what happened with the first cheesecake.

  She doubles over in laughter. “He liiiiikes you.”

  “He’s just being nice to the woman he knocked up.”

  “Marissa.” She takes my hands in hers. “I’m sure it’s more than that. You broke Vince Fong. In a good way. And I’m the one who introduced you two!”

  “Umm, I don’t think that’s quite how it went. I thought he was hot, you told me who he was. That’s basically it.”

  “Details, details.”

  I won’t tell her that Vince cried at the ultrasound. It seems too personal.

  “Ooh,” Carrie says, “I found the perfect maternity dress.”

  “Already? You’ve known I was pregnant for all of ten minutes.”

  “My colleague, she’s almost eight months pregnant, and she was wearing such a great outfit the other day. I made her show me where she got the dress. Just, you know, for future reference. You don’t need it yet, but I’m going to get it for when you do.”

  I put up the obligatory protest, but I know Carrie will get it anyway.

  “I don’t know anything about babies,” she says, “but I will watch YouTube videos—”

  “I’m not sure YouTube is the best way to learn such things.”

  “—and then I can look after the baby for an afternoon so you can have some me-time. Maybe you’ll just want to shower and nap. But Auntie Carrie will be there!”

  I didn’t cry at the ultrasound, but tears come to my eyes now as I think of the family and support network that me and the baby will have.

  My mother didn’t have that when I was little. I wish she had.

  Carrie hands me some napkins and I dab my eyes. Then she comes around the table and gives me a long hug.

  Which is exactly what I need.

  * * *

  When I get home on Friday, there’s a package waiting for me at the front desk.

  Inside the box is a burgundy maternity wrap dress, and I’m pleased it’s suitable for the office. There’s also a gift certificate for a mother-to-be session—whatever that entails—at a local spa, as well as some bling. But although Carrie favors showy pieces for herself, she’s good at understanding other people’s tastes. It’s a simple heartbeat necklace, and considering I recently heard my baby’s heartbeat for the first time, it seems particularly appropriate.

  I’m about to text Carrie to thank her for the gift when I get a message from Vince. Can I order you dinner tonight? I have something in mind.

  It’s like he knew I wasn’t in the mood to cook.

  An hour later, I get a delivery from a Malaysian restaurant. There’s lots of food, including roti canai with chicken curry.

  Since it’s more than enough for one person, I ask Vince if he wants to come over to help me with it, but he says he’s busy and today is the day he’s going to tell his family.

  Oh. I can’t help feeling nervous.

  What if they don’t react well to the news?

  Chapter 15

  Vince

  “Guess what?” I say to Evie as I drive a firetruck over the play mat. “I’m going to tell the family my secret today. You remember what I told you before, don’t you?”

  I turn Evie in my lap so she’s facing me, and she looks at me solemnly.

  “You’re getting a baby cousin, remember?”

  Evie sticks her fingers in her mouth, which I’m sure is a sophisticated baby way of saying, Yes, Uncle Vince, I remember everything.

  “I bet they’ll be at least as cute as you. After all, I’m better-looking than your father.”

  She scrunches up her face and looks skeptical.

  “No,” I say, “I’m not sure whether it’ll be a girl or a boy. Which would you prefer?”

  “You’re having a baby?”

  I whip my head around. Courtney and Julian are standing at the door.

  “Uh,” I say. “I mean, I’m not pregnant, obviously. But a woman is having my baby, yes.”

  Geez, I’m usually a little smoother than this.

  Courtney and Julian come into the room, their mouths hanging open. Eventually, Courtney kneels down beside me and gives me a hug.

  “What’s Uncle Vince been telling you?” She picks up Evie. “You’ve known for weeks, haven’t you? And you didn’t say anything?”

  Evie gurgles.

  “Are you happy?” Courtney asks me. “I assume it was unexpected.”

  “Yeah.” I turn to my brother. “I wasn’t stupid and careless. We took appropriate precautions, but you know, not everything is a hundred percent. But I’m happy.”

  Julian says nothing for a long time, but finally he cracks a smile. “You’re definitely not better-looking than me.”

  I throw my head back and laugh, and then I swear them to secrecy.

  My whole family is coming over to Julian and Courtney’s house today, and it’s the perfect time to say something. I would have told them last Sunday, but we went out to a Chinese restaurant in Scarborough for lunch, one of those crowded restaurants that white people don’t go to—unless they’re married to Asians—with brisk weekend service. It just wasn’t the right time.

  Tonight, however, is different.

  I wait until we’re eating dessert. Julian has baked lemon squares, and I pour myself another cup of jasmine tea
before saying, “I have an announcement.”

  “You got a girl pregnant?” Cedric says. “I knew this would happen eventually.”

  I look at Courtney. “You told him?”

  “Wasn’t me,” she says. “Evie must have done it.”

  Evie squawks from her high chair.

  “Wait, are you serious?” Cedric asks. “I was just kidding! I thought you’d gotten a job or started a company.”

  I glare at him. “I’m serious. She’s thirteen weeks along.”

  “Ah, this is exactly what I told you to do!” Po Po nods approvingly. “I said you were getting old, you should have a baby. Who is this woman? How long have you been together? When will you get married?”

  “We’re not a couple.” I won’t lie to my family. “But she’s pregnant, and it’s mine.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Mom hisses something to Po Po in Toisanese before turning to me. “We’ll be thrilled to have another grandbaby, of course. I hope that, even though you aren’t together, you will be an important part of the child’s life and bring them to see us regularly.”

  “Of course.”

  “When I asked if you wanted to be a dad the other week,” Cedric says, “did you already know?”

  “Yeah. Marissa just didn’t want me to tell anyone until she was out of the first trimester.”

  “This is not right,” Po Po says. “I will go to your place and play Chinese opera music until you marry her.”

  “Look.” I don’t want to mention that Marissa turned me down and I’d still very much like to change her mind. “It’s the twenty-first century and sometimes things happen differently now, but don’t worry, the child will be well cared for.”

  Po Po clucks her tongue. “The parents should be together. I understand, sometimes you marry and it doesn’t work out, so you divorce. But you should at least try to be married. I’m sure Marissa would appreciate it.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not what she wants.”

  “I hope you will at least stop going to parties and playing videogames all the time. You must set a good example for your child.”

  “I will, don’t worry.” I pause. “Do you think I’ll be a bad father?”

  “Of course not,” Mom says. “I will admit that, as your mother, some of the choices you make are not exactly what I want for you, but whenever you really want something, you succeed.”

  Julian doesn’t say anything, but he nods once, and I smile. As much as I like bugging the shit out of him, his opinion does mean a lot to me.

  “Tell us about Marissa,” Courtney says.

  “She’s an engineer. Her family’s from Hong Kong.” I don’t know how to describe Marissa. “She’s a little bit bossy. In a good way.”

  Po Po cackles with glee.

  “I want to meet her before the baby comes,” Mom says. “Even if you’re not together, she will be part of our family. You should bring her over sometime.”

  “Yes,” Dad says. “Please do.”

  “We could throw her a baby shower?” Courtney suggests.

  “She might have other people to do it, but I’ll let her know you’re willing.”

  “I guess this is exciting,” Po Po says, “even if you are not getting married, like I want.”

  “When do I ever do what you tell me?”

  “This is a good point. You are not very obedient. I bet your child will be the same. Will give you so much trouble!” My grandma seems delighted by this possibility.

  “Yes,” Dad says, eyes twinkling. “I hope he or she empties two whole bottles of shampoo on the living room carpet.”

  “And brings the hose and sprinkler inside the house to water the houseplants,” Mom adds. “The couch got soaked.”

  “What about the poop explosion at his first birthday party?”

  “Or the time he threw up on Julian at the grocery store?”

  “I remember that,” Julian says. “I also remember when he ate my entire birthday cake.”

  “That’s right!” Mom says. “You wanted a fancy chocolate cake, so we got you one from the bakery. But we made the mistake of leaving it on the counter, and Vince climbed on a chair, sat on the cake, and ate it. He was so sick that night.”

  “Then there was General Bloopy the Bloopisauraus.” Dad turns to Courtney. Everyone else already knows about General Bloopy. “A stuffed purple dinosaur he carried everywhere for two years.”

  “It was actually a brachiosaurus,” Julian clarifies, “but he insisted it was a bloopisaurus, and every time, I would correct him.”

  “You were so annoying,” I mutter.

  “Unfortunately,” Dad says, “General Bloopy got left out on the lawn one day, and when the kid across the street came over to mow the grass, he mowed right over General Bloopy.”

  Wait a second. I haven’t heard this part of the story before.

  “I told Vince that General Bloopy went to the spa for a week,” Mom says, “because it was very important for dinosaur health. But really, I was running around to toy stores across the city, trying to find the exact stuffed dinosaur. When I finally did, I almost wept with joy.”

  My mind has been blown. I sit there slack-jawed.

  “Oh, shit.” Cedric laughs. “He didn’t know.”

  “Uh, of course I knew,” I say. “I figured it out. I was a smart kid.”

  “You sure ate a lot of Play-Doh for a smart kid.”

  “Remember when he ate the mushroom in the backyard?” Dad asks. “We had to call poison control.”

  “Alright, everyone.” I hold up my hands. “I get it. I was a terror as a child—”

  “Well, I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Mom says.

  “It could have been worse,” Dad adds.

  “—but I’ve heard enough stories for tonight,” I say.

  “He’s struggling to get over the true story of General Bloopy.” Julian smirks.

  Dammit, it’s my job to piss him off, not the other way around.

  “Anyway,” Mom says, “I’m sure your child will be a perfectly-behaved angel...” She can’t finish her sentence. She’s already cracking up with laughter.

  You know, I’m looking forward to thirty years from now, when I’ll be able to bug my own son or daughter about their childhood antics.

  And I can’t help hoping Marissa will be there beside me.

  Chapter 16

  Marissa

  My morning sickness has improved, but I still have cravings that come out of nowhere.

  Today, I have a new craving: Italian sausages and bakeapple jam.

  I know, I know, it’s a weird craving. They’re not things I’ve ever had in combination.

  Bakeapples aren’t actually apples, but a kind of berry, also known as cloudberries. Pearl brought me some bakeapple jam after her trip to Newfoundland, and I really loved it. When I finished the jar, I found a specialty food store in Toronto where I could purchase it, and I pick some up about once a year.

  I don’t have any at home right now, however.

  And that specialty food store just so happens to be downtown, maybe a fifteen-minute walk from where Vince lives.

  Funny coincidence, isn’t it?

  It’s a Sunday morning, so I’m home. I text him, asking if he’ll get sausages and bakeapple jam for me.

  Not even a minute later, he replies, saying he’ll be over in an hour.

  I’m excited.

  Mostly because I’ll be eating bakeapple jam and sausages.

  And a little—okay, more than a little—because I’ll be seeing Vince.

  When he arrives, he’s loaded down with food. He’s wearing jeans and a Henley again, and I wonder how many people get to see this version of Vince Fong, the dressed-down version who runs around town buying food for someone else.

  I kiss him. I can’t help it.

  “Hey, Marissa,” he murmurs. “You see something you like?”

  “Yeah. Lots and lots of food. You got the things I wanted?”

  “
I most certainly did.” He carries the bags of food into the kitchen, where he pulls out a package of uncooked mild Italian sausages and a jar of bakeapple jam. “I’ll get these sausages cooking for you right away.”

  Normally I wouldn’t let someone else cook in my kitchen, but I’m not going to stop Vince from cooking for me.

  I remove the rest of the items from the bags. There’s a baguette and a box of fancy crackers. A ready-made green salad. A fruit salad. Two types of cheese—but not the kinds I can’t eat. A large piece of chocolate cake.

  “Is that enough for both of us?” He looks over his shoulder and winks at me.

  “Yeah, I think so.” I’m already opening up the cheese. I put some on a slice of baguette and top it with bakeapple jam. “Mmm, that’s good.”

  “I’ve never had bakeapple before.”

  I spread some jam on a small cracker, walk over to the stove, and hold the cracker up to his lips. He eats the food from my hands.

  I’m about to ask what he thought when he says, “Did you just drool on the sausages?”

  Damn, I was hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Is that because I’m irresistible?”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re very resistible.”

  “Sure. That’s why you’re pregnant with my baby.”

  The way he casually says it...something sizzles, and it’s not the sausages in the pan. The fabric of my “pregnant and hungry” shirt feels uncomfortable. I want out of these clothes.

  I also really want those sausages. They’re the reason I drooled.

  No really, they are.

  But I’m turned on, too. A man looking after me is pretty sexy. It’s been a while since I’ve had a boyfriend, someone who’d prepare food for me like this.

  Not, of course, that Vince is my boyfriend.

  He just knocked me up.

  Oh, God. Why do I want to press myself against him and hump his leg?

  No, self. You are not having sex with Vince. Too complicated right now.

  He is, however, more like the men I date than I initially thought, aside from his wealth and ridiculous good looks.

  “Are those sausages done yet?” I ask as I take out the butter. It’s a bit hard, but I do my best to spread it on a slice of baguette.