Page 1 of Oops, My Professor Got Me Pregnant!

CHAPTER 1

LAUREN

As the plane sped down the runway, then tilted gracefully to lift into the air, Lauren leaned back in her seat. When she landed, she’d be in the bustling Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. These would be her last moments of relaxation before she started her new life. A smile tugged at the corners of Lauren’s mouth, even as the heaviness she’d grown used to constricted her heart. She wrapped her hand around the gold ring that she wore on a chain round her neck.

I’m really doing it, Grandpa.

If her grandfather could see her now, he would definitely be proud. Lauren knew it.

The plane hit a spot of turbulence as it ascended and Lauren clutched the ring a little tighter. She was no novice flier — a few years ago, almost a decade now if she were being honest, she had spent a semester of her junior year in Paris on exchange. It had been the best few months of her life. The narrow alleys had held a kind of magic for her, as did the sprawling gardens and the lively banks of the Seine. Lauren’s French had skyrocketed as she’d spoken with waiters and her French classmates and the artists she sometimes spotted in front of particularly beautiful landmarks.

When Lauren had returned to Massachusetts to finish her last year of college, she’d spent months planning another trip to Paris. Towards the end of her senior year, she’d even secured a job as an English teacher at a kindergarten in a Parisian suburb. The excitement she had felt at the thought of making a life in the city she loved was indescribable. For a few months, it had seemed like all her dreams were coming true at once.

When her grandfather had come to her graduation, Lauren had flung herself into his arms, full of joy for the adventures she was about to have. Then she’d noticed that something was a little off. Her usually vibrant and lively grandfather was bonier than she remembered. His skin looked faded somehow, like an old photograph left out in the sun.

He’d waved off her concerns, but when Lauren pushed, he’d admitted that he’d had some bad news from the doctor. Her kind-hearted grandfather had urged her to go to Paris anyway and follow her dreams, but Lauren wouldn’t even consider it. Her grandpa had stepped in to raise her after her single mother passed away when Lauren was young. He’d been the best grandparent, and parent, anyone could ask for. Lauren wasn’t going to leave him alone when he needed her.

So, instead of getting on her plane to Paris, she had returned home to Nebraska, where she’d gotten a dull but consistent job at the local bank. She’d spent her time accompanying her grandfather to every doctor’s appointment, keeping up the house, and cooking him healthy meals to keep his strength up. In the end, her grandfather had outlived all expectations and they’d enjoyed a few wonderful years together. Lauren knew she’d treasure those memories forever. When he’d passed away a few months ago, he’d left everything to Lauren. In the top drawer of his dresser, he’d left his wedding ring and a letter to her telling her to use her inheritance to follow her dreams.

Well, Lauren was following her dreams now. She’d spent a few more months in Nebraska settling her grandfather’s affairs and planning. Then she bought a ticket. Now, here she was, climbing steadily higher into the clouds on the way to the city she loved.

As the interior of the cabin brightened and flight attendants began offering drinks, Lauren kept her gaze fixed on the darkness outside. For the first time, the sadness of the last few months without her grandfather was beginning to lift. She was starting to feel hopeful again.

She imagined a quaint little apartment in a suburb of Paris, full of sunshine, with window boxes of flowers and an old but gorgeous kitchen. She’d go for walks through the winding lanes, making friends and seeing beautiful, historic buildings. Lauren remembered from her last time there that Paris had a feeling of hope, like anything could happen. That was especially true in springtime, which it was now. Last time, she’d dreamed of a French romance and falling in love. Maybe this time, Lauren really could find love. The last few years spent taking care of her grandfather hadn’t left much time for romance. Maybe that would change now…

Lauren woke several hours later with a jolt. She’d been in a half-awake, half-dream state for most of the flight. Part of her had been watching the inflight movie and trying to sleep, while another part had been concocting a love story with a handsome dark-haired French man. The fact that the inflight movie had been a cheesy rom-com probably hadn’t helped matters.

Lauren rubbed the sleep from her eyes and cracked the window shade open. A ray of bright light almost blinded her, but she blinked until her eyes adjusted, then looked down at the land below. They were over land! Lauren’s heart sped with excitement. She was almost there.

A packet of mini pretzels and a diet cola later, the plane bounced onto the runway and rolled to a stop. Lauren’s enthusiasm was starting to wane after a very long, two-layover travel day, but she still felt a ray of happiness. She was back in Paris. She found her checked bag and hauled it out of the airport toward the taxi stand. Perhaps she should have narrowed down her shoe selection a little — the case was very heavy.

On the ride into town, Lauren could hardly keep herself from pressing her nose to the window glass like an excited toddler. Outside, the highway turned into a busy but leafy urban area. The sidewalks were packed with tourists and employees just getting off work — a glance at her phone reminded her that it was already after five in the evening here. She’d left her grandfather’s house almost twenty-four hours ago. No wonder she was exhausted.

The taxi pulled up in front of a charming hotel, and Lauren paid with the euros she’d exchanged back in Nebraska, then got out. The driver helped her get her bag out of the trunk, for which Lauren thanked him in French. She was pleased to see that she remembered at least a few words of her long-disused French vocabulary.

Inside, the concierge checked Lauren in and directed her to her room, which was on the top floor. When she got inside, she just stood in front of the window for a long moment and gazed at the street below her. Life bustled on here, full of people going about their daily routines and tourists in awe of their French surroundings. None of these people knew Lauren or her grandfather. It was relieving in a way. She could make a fresh start here, with no responsibilities and no preconceived notions of who she was.

After a few minutes, Lauren pulled herself away from the window when her stomach began to rumble unhappily. She headed downstairs, where hunger and tiredness brought her to the nearest restaurant: a kebab shop adjacent to the hotel. As she dug into a falafel wrap, she had to admit that, while this wasn’t exactly the refined French meal she’d expected to savor on her first day back, it was absolutely delicious.

As soon as her stomach was full, another, more insistent, wave of exhaustion hit her. It was all she could do to climb the narrow staircase back to her hotel room and drag herself through a quick but wonderful shower before falling into the hotel’s soft bed. Her last thought before drifting into the welcome darkness of sleep was that everything was going to be different when she woke.

Things weren’t going quite to plan. Lauren stared at her phone, which seemed to be telling her to turn left directly into a large brick wall. That couldn’t be right.

Her first full day had started well enough. She’d woken up with a thrill of excitement at the plans she had — a nice breakfast, a walk around the city, and a few appointments to look at apartments. She’d dressed in one of her comfiest outfits, put on a splash of makeup, and made her way downstairs. Across the street, she’d spotted an adorable little French bakery and crossed over to see what they had. That was when the problems had begun.

“Bonjour,” Lauren had said. “Je voudrais un pain au chocolat, s’il vous plaît.”

She was almost certain that she’d asked for a pastry with chocolate and, even if her pronunciation wasn’t exactly perfect, it should have been understandable. Especially since she’d been pointing to the pastry in question at the time.

But the clerk had just stared at her like she’d grown a second head, then launched into a long monologue in rapid-fire French that Lauren had no way of understanding. She’d left a few minutes later with a plain croissant and a heaviness in her heart. She’d almost forgotten that French people weren’t always the best at communicating with novice French speakers.

Things had gotten worse from there. The first apartment Lauren had seen had been little more than a closet perched on a high floor of a crumbling brick building, with the only window opening directly over a street filled with beeping trucks and blaring sirens. The second apartment had been even worse — it was mostly underground and had a dank, musty smell that made Lauren worry about mold.

Now she was on her way to the third and final apartment she’d picked out for today. And her phone kept unhelpfully telling her to go through a brick wall. After a bit of back and forth, Lauren managed to call the apartment’s owner, who directed her to the main door.

“Thank you so much for your help,” Lauren said when she’d finally found the owner, a middle-aged woman with heavy eyeshadow and blush. “It’s been a bit of a difficult day.”

“Hmm.” The woman gave her what looked like a disapproving smile before leading her into the building’s ancient elevator. There were no inside doors, so Lauren watched with apprehension as a wall slid by, close enough to touch.

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