Текст книги "Jerk"

Автор книги: Kat T. Masen

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

 

With the Jerk away in London, I was able to piece my life back together again. Jason still hadn’t contacted me, yet every week a realtor would show prospective buyers around. I wasn’t in a financial position to buy him out, so I settled for apartment hunting in a more affordable neighborhood. Nevertheless, I started packing my belongings and getting rid of items I no longer needed, like my MC Hammer pants from the nineties. There’s nostalgia and then there’s just plain hoarding. Hammer pants fall into the hoarding category.

As Marcus promised, we had fun. Fun was hitting the clubs, late night dinners, and of course, hot sex with a confirmed 27-year-old. He didn’t tell me directly but when he took a shower at my place, I ‘stumbled’ upon his license. On a drunk bender one night, he asked my age. I wasn’t going to lie, and when I asked him if he had a problem with that, he replied by taking me back to his place and making me come on his roommate’s expensive leather sofa.

He told me only after, his roommate was his cousin, Haden.

From that moment, we only ever had sex at my place.

The Jerk had virtually disappeared, and occasionally, Mr. Sadler would send out a group email in which Haden would respond. That was it in terms of contact. He never once tried to text or send me anything work-related, so it was easy to assume that drunken night in the alley was all in the past and could easily be forgotten.

Marcus was fun, he made me forget the stresses of everyday life, including my bad bout with the flu a couple of weeks back. I wasn’t sure that I saw it going anywhere, I simply enjoyed his company and for once in my life, I was happy to just go with the flow. Very un-Presley like.

Then it all went pear shaped—he said he loved me.

It happened last week at the Bon Jovi concert. The third beer of the night and halfway through “Bed of Roses,” he pulls me into an embrace and whispers into my ear, “I think I love you, Presley Malone.”

My instant reaction was to dry heave, which ultimately had me running for the bathroom so I could projectile vomit my fears into the dirty toilet. How do you tell someone, “Oh, hey, thanks for saying I love you, I don’t feel the same way but it’s nice to know you care”?

I remember walking back to him and the puppy dog look on his face when he saw me; it was the look of being in love. I simply smiled, told him thank you, and changed the subject by telling him that I wasn’t feeling too hot. He didn’t seem to think there was an issue, so after the final song we made our way home and I pulled out the ‘Aunt Flo’ card; he understood and left me alone.

It wasn’t a complete lie; I was almost due and this month I was predicting a bitch of a cycle since the past three months had been light. That bitch never came, and the emergency sirens were ringing, sending Vicky to the rescue.

“It’s blue.”

Frozen on the spot, I stare at the little blue line and its evil twin. This cannot be happening. I am not irresponsible! I got straight A’s in sex education class. I paid close attention to that rubber being placed on the banana. In fact, I even took notes!

“No shit, but are there two lines?” Vicky is panicked, walking back and forth in the confined bathroom, or what I like to call my personal hell.

Without saying a word, I hand it over, wrong end first as Vicky snatches it away from me.

“Oh gross, I’m touching your pee!” It falls to the ground, not that it matters; the damage is done.

“Is it Marcus’s?”

Mental calculations of who you were sleeping with at a specific time scream “slut” like nothing else. With Marcus I stuck to my five-month-rule, minus four months, two weeks, and four days. Turns out the older you get, the shorter the timespan. Alright, Kitty was becoming a desperate diva pouting like she was deprived of water…or air.

“Okay, let’s take this into the living room with some Chinese take-out and get to the bottom of this,” Vicky reassures me.

An hour later, the Chinese delivery guy has delivered our food and Vicky is wearing her Sherlock Holmes cap and glasses. When it comes to sticky situations, Vicky Flinders is the person you want by your side. Despite the nausea sitting in the pit of my stomach, I shove food into my mouth, not allowing myself any air to breathe.

“When did you last get your period?”

“Like, a month ago? It was an odd color and lighter than usual.”

“You can still get your period while you’re pregnant.”

“Marcus and I only started sleeping together not long ago, and to be honest, he has an obsession with blowjobs so we don’t really have intercourse as much as you think,” I mumble, in confusion.

“Okay, that’s a lot of information for me to take in. What is it with men and blowjobs? You know, it could be Haden’s or Jason’s—”

“Wh…Why would it be Haden’s?” The anxiety is curling in my stomach at the mention of his name. I hadn’t even thought of him being part of this equation. My immediate thoughts went to Marcus. Even Jason seemed so far-fetched, yet would have been my preferred option if given the choice. The tears are barely being contained and I choke them back in order to get to the bottom of what the fuck I’m going to do.

“Uh, because he stuck his GI Joe in your Polly Pocket?”

I almost choke on my eggroll. “You’re getting cruder with age.”

“I prefer the term ‘wiser’,” she corrects me. “So?”

“Look, Vicks, he wore a rubber, I think.” God, I sound like a whore. “But if I didn’t come then he probably didn’t.”

Vicky spits out her drink all over my coffee table. Disgusted, I quickly grab some paper towels to wipe it down, mumbling under my breath at her disregard for a sanitary environment.

“You can’t be that gullible. If I know Haden, the jerk blew his load and left you hanging, wanting more.”

“I don’t know,” I barely admit. “As for Jason, we hadn’t had sex since his trip back from Chicago. That was so long ago. Surely if it was his I’d be showing right now.”

My mind is reeling with all this information, all the while reminding me how unbelievably stupid and irresponsible I am. I take a step back and think about the scientific side of things, but Vicky interrupts my thoughts.

“So that was like…” Counting her fingers, Vicky does the math that my brain refuses to compute. “That was like five months ago, right? And you fucked Haden four months ago? So it’s simple, you get your blood test done and see how far along you are. Then you’ll know who the baby daddy is.”

Oh dear god, baby daddy. How could such a name freak me out?

“Vicky, it has to be Marcus’s baby. I’m not ready for this, plus he is so young and not ready to be a dad. How can this fucking happen?!” I yell in frustration.

“Well, you weren’t exactly being responsible.”

“I was on the goddamn Pill back then! Besides, we always use condoms.”

“Oh,” Vicky mouths. “Well, it says on the warning label that the Pill is only ninety-nine percent effective and condoms can break. Maybe you’re one of those super fertile woman and Marcus has super sperm and together it can break through anything.”

“This isn’t a joke. I cannot be that one percent, Vicky.”

“Someone has to be,” she points out. “Why would you stop the Pill?”

“I don’t know,” I sulk. “I have no idea who I am anymore! I got so caught up in having fun that I just forgot one day and didn’t think it would be a big deal since we used protection anyway.”

I sink into the sofa, smothering myself with cushions and praying that they would turn into monsters and suffocate me to death. Instead, I sit here feeling like a cheap hooker. I am worthy of being on Jerry Springer or Maury Povich. How could I not know who the father is of the baby I’m carrying? This isn’t how I was raised; this isn’t who I am. I know better than this.

“It’s okay to cry, Pres.” Vicky rubs my shoulder.

My hands are shaking. “I don’t want to cry. I’m so angry at myself. How could I be so irresponsible? I planned to have kids with the right man when we were married. I didn’t sign up for being a single mother. What will my parents think? What will everyone think?!”

“It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks, Pres. This is your life, not theirs.” She continues, “As for your parents…they’ll get over the initial shock and I’m sure they’ll be excited to have a grandbaby. It’s not like Gemma is popping one out any time soon, you know, eating pussy and all.”

“Vicky!”

“What?! It’s true. You’ll look back at this moment one day and be thankful you’re blessed with a child. Think about all those women trying their asses off…well not their asses but you know what I mean.”

“So in the meantime can I wish I could climb into a time machine and stay celibate?”

“Yes, but first you need to find out who the baby daddy is. Then you can revert back to OCD Presley and plan your life away.”

Stupid doctor’s office with its sterile walls that make you feel like you’re in a nuthouse.

It took me a week to find the courage to make an appointment and have my blood taken. In that week, I avoided Marcus at all costs with every believable excuse I could muster. He understood, but warned me that if he hadn’t fucked me by Saturday, I was in major trouble.

What does a pregnant woman say to that? I had no response but to send him a smiley face.

“Miss Malone, I have your results here.”

Dr. Taylor procrastinates in the most annoying way possible. He’s pushing close to a hundred (okay, exaggerating a little) and even the way he writes everything on paper versus using a computer bugs me. Hormones…blame the hormones.

“You’re definitely pregnant, and the blood work shows you’re about four months along.”

The lump in my throat is the size of the planet Jupiter. My chest tightens, constricting my ability to breathe. My eyes start to twitch followed by the room spinning in circles. Dr. Taylor is concerned, calling my name in the distance. I focus in on his face, mumbling the question that is bursting to come out.

“So when you say four months…I fell pregnant around…”

“March,” he confirms.

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!

This. Cannot. Be. Happening.

“But it was only one time,” I beg, almost in tears. “I was on the Pill back then and we used condoms.”

“Miss Malone, I always advise my patients that the Pill is only ninety-nine percent effective. You did the right thing using a condom, but even condoms aren’t one hundred percent.”

“Why does everyone say that?!” I raise my voice. “I can’t be pregnant! If nothing’s one hundred percent then why are people having sex?”

“Abstinence is your one hundred percent,” he reminds me.

What a stupid remark. No one is going to abstain from having sex.

“I was with the same man prior to that for five years. I was on the Pill but that’s it. How come I didn’t fall pregnant with him?”

“It could be a number of things. Perhaps you weren’t actually having intercourse during ovulation but most likely you’ve found a male partner with strong sperm that’s extremely compatible with your eggs.”

Dr. Taylor retrieves a pamphlet from his desk, sliding it in front of me. The front has a picture of a woman, and clearly printed are the words, What You Need to Know About Abortions.

A sudden reflex, and I slide it back to him. “I can’t do that.”

“I understand. It’s an option, one that we don’t encourage but sometimes it helps to know your options. You don’t have long though, if that’s the road you want to take.”

“I’m thirty-two, Dr. Taylor. I have a secure job, money saved, and my own place. Well, kind of. I didn’t plan this, I don’t think the father will take this well nor will he be present in the child’s life, but I do know one thing for sure,” I say without taking a breath. “I was raised in a religious family. My sister is a lesbian but my family accepted her choices. My parents will be disappointed in me, but I know deep down inside, this has to be counted as a blessing.”

At that moment I realize this is not a therapy session and I’m not quite sure why I brought up that my sister is a lesbian. Then it dawns on me; I need validation. I can’t be a single mom without the support of my family. Gemma was eighteen when she told my parents she wasn’t interested in men. At first my mom cried for a whole week and even tried bringing nice boys home. Of course it didn’t work; Gemma was not switching teams. My parents eventually accepted her decision and now they are persuading Gemma and her partner Mel to get married.

If they accepted homosexuality, they can accept that I’m going to be a single mom.

“So I take it you’re not in a relationship with the father?”

“Three words for you, Doc. One. Night. Stand.”

I see pity or maybe even a little bit of judgment in his eyes. He carries on about prenatal appointments, supplements, and other things that are flying into one ear and out the other. In my head, I only see the look on the Jerk’s face when I tell him.

Or maybe I don’t tell him…

No, no…I have to tell him.

Then there is Marcus.

This is too much to think about, so I opt for a quick escape, head to the nearest supermarket, and fill my cart full of chocolate. The checkout lady is definitely judging me, and I am quick to ease her curiosity.

“I just found out I’m knocked up after a one night stand. I work in the same office as him, plus he’s a jerk.”

“You eat that chocolate girl, and you enjoy it!” she tells me, even discounting my total at the end.

It’s a long walk back to my apartment and as soon as I open the door, the boxes packed against the wall remind me of what’s to come. How could I have a baby when I soon would have no place to live? How could I continue working, and who would take care of the baby? The questions keep flooding my brain until I’m forced to sit down with a migraine of epic proportions.

I fall asleep, and when I wake up, it’s dark outside. My cell lights the room, and I pick it up to read the text.

Rain check tomorrow night babe. Haden’s back in town and boy does he have a surprise.

The cell slips out of my hand and onto the floor.

Running fast to the bathroom, I vomit profusely into the basin. My unruly hair is mangled in my face, forcing me to turn the shower on. As the steam fills the bathroom, I undress and stare at my naked body in the mirror. My stomach still looks flat, and even as I turn to the side nothing appears to be different. My breasts however…they look like giant balloons. How did I not notice this before? There is a swell just underneath my nipples. When I touch them, my body jerks at the unpleasant tingle that follows. Even the color looks slightly different, darker.

The steam soon covers the mirror. I climb into the shower and allow the hot water to wash my worries away.

I have to be the adult here; he deserves to know the truth, even if he doesn’t want anything to do with us.

Us.

I will tell him in person.

Tomorrow.

No, maybe Monday.

Or maybe I’ll wait till I’m showing and he works it out for himself.

Yep, I’m screwed any way you look at it.

 

“So, I Facebook stalked him.”

I’m dazed and confused, primarily from the lack of sleep all weekend. Leaving Dr. Taylor’s office that day confirmed that I am fifteen weeks along, pregnant by a man I despise. A stranger, in fact.

The weekend was spent panicking, planning, more panicking, and eating way too much chocolate. It wasn’t the next five months that I had to worry about, it was the rest of my life.

Was I even mother material? When I was fifteen, I changed my cousin’s diaper and got shit all over her face. The little brat wouldn’t keep still. Then, when I realized there was shit on the blanket, I threw it in the trash and told my auntie we left it at the park.

I’m going to be a terrible mother.

Vicky is sitting on my desk, crossed-legged and shoving her cell in my face. I push it away in dismay, not wanting to deal with anything and trying my best to ignore the dry heaving. It’s Monday morning, and the office buzz is that Haden is officially back in town. Even Dee looks nervous, although I don’t know why since she has moved on with someone old enough to be her dad.

“You don’t look well,” Vicky sympathizes, handing me a bottle of water.

“Would you feel well if the man whose life you’re going to turn upside-down is just about to walk through that door?”

“You have a point. So don’t you want to know more about him?”

“I don’t think now’s the time.”

Vicky ignores me. “He’s into extreme sports.”

“Aren’t most guys?” I place my head down on my desk, resting my eyes for a brief moment.

“He loves animals. Has two dogs, Marley and Max. They’re Yorkshire Terriers.”

“Really? That’s kind of…feminine,” I mumble into my arm.

Vicky laughs, agreeing. “His favorite TV show is Top Gear.”

“Such a guy show.”

“Oh, and he plays the guitar.”

I raise my head slowly, blinking at the bright fluorescent lights. “Hmm…kinda hot.”

I cover my mouth immediately as if I was caught saying a naughty word. Vicky laughs but stops as soon as we hear the muffled voices. I try to shoo her away, turning around so I am facing the computer and pretending that the words on my screen actually make sense, when in reality, my nervous system has gone into meltdown mode.

“Hey Babe!”

Marcus turns my chair back around and plants a juicy kiss on my lips. Without seeming too obvious, I pull away from him and flash a fake smile, a sign of endearment to cover my nerves.

He slides his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in again. This is not appropriate work behavior so I gently scold him. He appears annoyed, but I ignore his childish behavior.

The Jerk is standing beside him.

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. Perhaps a size ten…you know what they say about big feet. Move on! 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!

1…2…3, and there they are. He is watching, and his simple stare has shot right through me, sitting at 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.

This 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?

And why are you looking at him like you want him inside you?

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 gloats.

Vicky moves her head in a not-so-subtle way towards me, watching my reaction and yelling with her eyes, “OMG, what the fuck?!”

The shock and enormity of the situation is constricting my vocal chords, 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 watch 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. 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.

What is wrong with this picture? Absolutely everything! Words are being exchanged around me yet I’m deaf, falling into a dark hole and wishing I could rewind back 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 is 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.”

“So even if I can handle it, I don’t think he can.”

“He has time to get used to the idea. The baby is not coming out now. You’re only four months along. Still another five months. Plenty of time,” Vicky reassures me.

I don’t feel reassured. I know Haden well enough to know that this is not in his plan. It wasn’t in my plan either. But I know what I have to do; Haden would see this as the monumental fuck-up that ruined his life.

Marcus is still lingering around my cubicle when I return. He doesn’t seemed worried that I disappeared, and instead, makes plans for lunch.

“I won’t be able to go out today. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“It can wait,” he states.

“No, it can’t.” My patience is wearing thin and I just want to be alone for a minute to process my thoughts. “It’s probably best you just go for now.”

“What’s going on with you?” He raises his tone.

“Marcus.” I turn to face him. “I’m at work. I need this job to earn money. We can talk about things later.”

I turn back around, ignoring the fact that he is still standing there.

“Okay, I’ll call you tonight. I love you.” With a solemn goodbye, he leaves my cubicle and finally I have the peace I deserve.

Later that afternoon, Mr. Sadler calls me into his office to discuss the manuscript I have been working on for months.

“Good afternoon, Presley,” he greets me.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sadler.”

Taking a seat at the table, he finishes an email he is typing, then turns to face me. Beside his phone is a picture of his wife. She is a pretty lady, and the one time I met her at a work function, she was very nice. There are only pictures of her and who I assume is his daughter. He once told me she lived in Korea with her husband.

“I called you in today to briefly discuss the manuscript you’ve been working on. You’ve got the green light to go ahead with that one.”

“Oh wow! Thank you. That’s fantastic news.”

“There’s just one—”

The Jerk walks into the room without even knocking. Mr. Sadler’s face softens, and he motions for Haden to sit down. Taking a seat beside me, he leans back and crosses his legs accordingly. How do guys do that? Don’t their balls get squashed?

“So, as I was saying before Haden joined us, please go ahead with the manuscript for Fallen Baby. I’d like you to collaborate with Haden on releasing it before the holiday season.”

What the…?

“But…but I don’t understand why we need to work on this project together. Besides, I thought he was busy with that sci-fi series that he picked up in London?”

My panicked tone amuses Haden and he cocks his head with a sly grin. From the corner of my eye I can see that he is studying my body and, paranoid, I rest my hands on my stomach to cover the small bump that has grown overnight. Or so I think.

“Haden has been quite efficient and that is already at the printers ready to go. The both of you have strong opinions and together, I think you would make a great team.”

A great team? A great team was Donny and Marie, Sonny and Cher, not Haden and Presley!

Why won’t the Jerk object to this?

“So that’s settled? Okay. I need to head out. Please feel free to use my office if you need to brainstorm.” Mr. Sadler is out of there fast, leaving my mouth gaping, staring in shock at the door.

“Why didn’t you say something?” I snap.

“What do you want me to say? I already had the same argument when he originally asked me,” he responds, too casually for my liking.

“We can’t work together.”

“Why not? We’re both professionals, Malone.”

“Because it’s awkward!”

“Maybe for you. I’ve swept it under the rug, like you suggested.”

“What?” I shake my head, trying to process the enormity of another pile of shit added to my shitty doorstep. Working with him would mean I would have to talk to him. Interact outside of working hours, and maintain a composed and professional relationship. There is no way in hell this will work, and even if I give it my best, his cocky attitude will only cause another fight between us. This seems all too much and makes me tired just thinking about it.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt him, noticing the time on the wall.

“I have to go.”

I stand up and walk towards the door without saying goodbye.

“We are supposed to be discussing work. You can’t just leave,” he hisses.

“I have somewhere I need to be. I’ll be back later.”

He doesn’t seem pleased with my answer. “Where?”

It’s not the moment to tell him that I’m off to my 16-week scan. This lying is so draining, so I do the next best thing—I put on my bitch panties and unleash.

“None of your business, Jerk!”

I storm out of the room, then out of the building, hailing a cab as I rush to my appointment.

Flustered, I barely make the appointment and the receptionist ushers me to the room quickly. I’m given instructions to undress and lie on the bed. As I settle in, the sonographer arrives and briefly explains what she’ll be doing today since it’s my first time.

Everything is going according to plan. Baby is measuring right, things and bits are in the correct positions. Not much to report, apart from the lack of emotion I feel. I always envisioned it differently; I’d be holding my husband’s hand as we both cry at the sound of the heartbeat. Instead, I squirm uncomfortably from the gallon of water I am forced to drink while staring at a screen and pretending to know what I’m looking at. Not to mention the copious amounts of warm lube spread all over me.

At the end, she gives me a picture of the baby.

I stare at it the whole cab ride back to the office. Because I haven’t felt the baby move, and the fact that I’m still in utter shock about being pregnant, the so-called attachment I’m supposed to feel is missing. According to a pregnancy book I picked up over the weekend, many women have already bonded with their baby at this point and there’s some bullshit about how it forms part of the mother-child bond after birth.

Great, my kid is going to hate me.

Back in the office, I drop my purse onto the ground and make my way to one of the spare boardrooms, counting down the minutes till it’s time to go home (something I rarely do).

“Oy!” Clive scans the area and pulls me aside. “What’s the gossip with Haden getting engaged?”

“I know just as much as you…I think. Why, what do you know?” I pry.

“Dee is throwing a temper tantrum. I think she was hoping to pick up from where they left off.”

“But Dee has Big Daddy now.”

“Big Daddy has a big wife that caught wind of Dee.”

“No!” I gasp. “Listen, I have to get to a meeting. I want full details tomorrow. I swear Clive, you really should work for the Inquirer.”

“I know, my talents are beyond wasted here.”

Upon entering the room, I see Haden sitting at the table with his laptop and coffee. He doesn’t make eye contact with me, and seems engrossed in whatever’s on his screen. Probably porn.

“Make this quick,” I complain. “I want to go home.”

“You’re the one pushing for this erotic make-believe story, not me.”

“What’s your problem with it? Obviously Mr. Sadler has no issue and neither did the board,” I point out in a huff.

“There’s fantasy and then there’s plain ridiculous. Men are not virgins at twenty-five.”

“Clearly you weren’t. Did you even read the story? He came from a strict Catholic upbringing. His mother had cancer from when he was eighteen to twenty-four. When she died, he wanted to honor her wishes.”

“I did read it, it’s just difficult for me to compute but hey, I’m not a horny old woman reading erotic fantasies to escape my failing marriage.”

“You don’t need to be an old woman to enjoy these types of books. I was in a happy relationship and read books in this genre. It was fun, even gave me ideas.”

Crap, I said too much.

Haden shifts uncomfortably. “Right, when you were with Jasper.”

“Jason,” I correct him.

“Whatever,” he mutters under his breath.

This is heading to an uncomfortable place, yet his snide comment irks me.

“Do you have a problem with Jason?”

“I don’t know your ex-fiancé. Except for when you constantly mention him.”

“I don’t constantly mention him,” I answer defensively.

“Right.” He laughs. “It’s obvious you’re not over him.”

“Of course I’m not. I was with him for five years. I’m not that heartless. I’d like to think I will always love him, just not in a way that would end happily ever after as soul mates.”

“You read too much trash.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “You don’t believe in love? You’re engaged. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Yes...I am.”

He doesn’t reveal anything else and I’m dying to ask how a man who is pushing twenty-six (thank you, Vicky, for the Facebook stalking) pops the question to a girl he has known less than four months.

Maybe she is knocked up! Oh, this could be even worse than I thought.