Dirty Sexy Daddy by S.E. Law
9
Simona
Somehow, I managed to get through the rest of evening with enviable aplomb. James had no idea that my emotions were all over the place, and that I almost broke down and cried a couple times. Needless to say, we didn’t make love. I made up an excuse about a headache, so my handsome employer merely pressed a tender kiss to my forehead before turning over.
Then in the morning, James rolled out of bed before stepping in the shower and going through his usual routine. The man actually whistled as the water came down, he was so fucking clueless. But when he leaned down to press a kiss goodbye to my cheek, I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at him right now, much less kiss him goodbye like a good housewife.
The moment the front door closes, I leap out of bed. It’s time to leave. Even though my heart’s heavy, I get to work packing with an almost maniacal energy. I have to get away from this place because there’s nothing here for me anymore. Not the money, not the luxury, and certainly, not any love.
With trembling hands, I stash my stuff into a large duffel, my fingers hesitating over the luxurious clothing purchased by my man. But my hands skip over the silks and satins, choosing only to take what I brought. After all, where would I wear the glamorous evening gowns and sexy cocktail dresses? In my regular life, I’m dressed in t-shirts and jeans, and that’s going to have to do once more.
The ride to my old apartment is miserably lonely, and I feel nauseous the entire time. When I step inside, it’s almost like entering a time capsule. There’s my shabby little pull-down bed. There’s the coffee table I scrounged from the street. There’s the colorful, raggedy afghan that I bought at a jumble sale. It’s so small and poky, but with a grim face, I unpack my bag. This is my home, and it’s where I belong. The real Simona doesn’t live in a penthouse in the sky, nor does she eat caviar or get her hair and nails done on a weekly basis. Instead, the real me paints her own nails at the kitchen table while scarfing down saltines and listening to the radio.
Of course, I try to console myself. I tell myself that none of this bothers me and that I’ll be okay despite my broken heart. But I know it’s not true. The only thing keeping me from bursting into tears right now is my sheer exhaustion… and then, the sudden rush of bile rising in my throat.
Oh shit! I rush into my bathroom and vomit what feels like gallons of foul liquid into the toilet. It splatters with a disgusting sound, and I pant, heaving and sweating, trying to get my breath back. When the nausea has finally passed, I flush the toilet and turn on the tap to rinse out my mouth. The aftertaste is absolutely disgusting, like a mix of cheese and rotted fish.
But then, a thought makes me draw up short. Holy shit! Am I pregnant? James and I always use protection, but there were a few times when the moment was so hot that we skipped the condom. It felt amazing, and I loved having him in me raw and filthy, but now, am I paying the price?
Like a madman, I scramble to my feet and dash out of my apartment to run to a convenience store. Then I purchase a test before heading back to my studio and peeing on the stick per the instructions. Now comes the waiting. I wait. And wait. And wait. Oh god, what’s going to happen?
An eternity seems to pass before the alarm on my phone beeps, but when I look down at the results, a sob immediately slips past my lips. It’s positive. Of fucking course it is. What excellent timing.
My thoughts start tumbling over each other as I absorb this latest blow. I can’t afford a baby. Hell, I’m an escort for crying out loud! It would be foolish for me to try and have a child when I’m still struggling to figure myself out. I start hyperventilating, and my heart beats so hard that I literally have chest pains. Am I dying?
But some part of me knows that this isn’t death; it’s just a panic attack. I need to calm myself down before I pass out because that could be a catastrophe, seeing that I’m alone and pregnant in my apartment.
Breathing through my nose, I scramble to where my duffel bag sits at the bottom of the closet and savagely tear it open. I don’t even know what I’m looking for until I spot it wedged in the bottom corner. It’s one of James’s old t-shirts. I took it before I left, like the pathetic sap that I am, but now, I bury my nose in the soft cotton, inhaling deeply as tears spring to my eyes. This is all I have left of the man that I love, and my heart breaks all over again as I begin sobbing once more.
After a few minutes, I sit up straighter. God, there’s snot running down my nose and my eyes must be swollen and red. But my phone’s ringing, and I pick up.
“Hey Patty.”
“Hey girlfriend,” comes my friend’s voice. “You look terrible. Is everything okay?”
I don’t even bother to give her any warning.
“Patty, I’m pregnant.”
My statement shocks her into silence for a few seconds, but then she smiles broadly.
“Oh my god! Girlfriend, I’m so happy for you!” she squeals. “We’ll have our babies at the same time. Have you told James yet?”
My heart clutches with pain.
“No, not yet.”
“Why not?” she queries.
I take a deep breath as tears spring to my eyes.
“He doesn’t want a child. After the picnic, all he could talk about was how perfect and happy you and your family looked. I’m not going to get into specifics, but let’s just say he made it very clear that he’s not looking for a family himself.”
Patty is silent. She says nothing for so long that I think the call might have disconnected, but eventually, she speaks. “I’m not so sure, Simona. I mean, a lot of guys don’t realize how much fatherhood suits them until it actually happens to them. Besides, I think he was just grouchy. Why don’t you give him another chance? Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
I shake my head.
“No, it was more than that, Patty. He really went off, and I’m not going to repeat what he said because he was saying things about your family. I mean, he wasn’t criticizing your parenting skills or anything like that,” I add hastily. “But he was saying things like he’s so glad he’s not you, he’s so glad he’s not your husband, he doesn’t want the responsibility, yada yada yada. It was ugly.”
Patty nods and is silent.
“I get it. And I know how devastating that must have been for you to hear, especially if you’re in love with him. But this is James’s child, sweetie. If you’re keeping the baby, I think you should tell him,” she ventures gently.
My heart thunders in my chest.
“You’re right. I think I do want the baby,” I say in a soft voice. “Isn’t that so crazy?”
Patty immediately shakes her head, brown curls bouncing. “No, not at all, Simona. Meeting the right man often brings out a woman’s maternal instinct, so I think it’s very natural that you want this child.”
I let out a choked laugh.
“The right man? But James has made it crystal clear that he doesn’t want to be a father.”
Patty merely smiles gently.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she opines. “Tell him, sweetie. Maybe not at this very second, but I don’t think you have anything to lose.”
“Except the fact that he doesn’t want kids,” I say in a sour tone.
Patty merely chuckles again.
“You never know what will happen,” she says. “Now take care of yourself, okay? Only one cup of coffee or tea per day, and not too many processed foods. Call me if you want to talk again, alright?”
I hiccup a bit and wipe my eyes.
“Thanks, Patty. Yes, got it, and I totally appreciate you, girlfriend.”
She merely smiles gently once more.
“Love you.”
“Love you,” I mumble in return. But after hanging up, my heart drops. What do I do now that I’m pregnant by a man who doesn’t want a family? Unfortunately, the future for me and my child is ominous, to say the least.
