Page 49 of Fake Wife for Dr. Secret Daddy

“I'm not kissing you, Ted Gates. I brought you breakfast, not kisses.”

“What do you mean? That I don't deserve a good morning kiss from my wife? My God!”

I chuckle, leaning over and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“One at a time, Ted Gates. Weren't you the same person who complains that all I do is feed you food and my body? And that was why you needed to hit the gym quickly. Why are you after my body again?”

I am standing arms akimbo, daring him to come and touch me. He checked me out before replying, letting his glance slide from my bra to my panties that were concealed beneath the fluffy, white robe I was putting on.

“I guess old habits die hard,” he mutters, his infectious smile making me smile even though I don't want to.

I wait for him to start eating, nodding his head in appreciation of the well-prepared meal before I speak.

“Today is Luna and Isla's birthday, Ted. I want us to celebrate it, throw a little party, invite a few people–”

“It's today? My beautiful babies? Fucking hell, it skipped my mind!”

I am eyeing him as he continues chewing, sipping the coffee. I can tell his mind is already writing a note on things to buy, and I smile because I know it has not been a bad idea after all to get him going with breakfast.

“I'll have Daisy's Confectioneries bring in two cakes and a few pies. Maybe French fries, chicken nuggets, and ketchup, too.”

“We're getting a clown, children love clowns. That is if you're inviting your fellow doctors at the hospital that also have children.”

“Definitely, definitely. Where can we get balloons? My head is so filled that I think we need to call a party organizer instead. If we try to do it alone, we might miss something important.”

I tie the laces of my robe, happy to hear and be a part of the energy coursing through his veins.

“Well, I can start by sending texts to people on my contact list inviting them to the party. Then I also do the same with your phone.”

In seconds, he is rounding up his breakfast, ready to use the landline to make calls while I use his phone to send text messages.

I watch him go, my prize, full of energy and life.

The party begins in the late afternoon, and I am all smiles as I receive visitors and well-wishers. As soon as Ted’s mom comes through the door, I engulf her in a hug, admiring her strong perfume and reminding myself to look for it in the perfume store next weekend.

“Winnie! My, you look so good. What has he been feeding you, eh?”

I chuckle, smiling as she squeezes my shoulder fondly.

“Where are my babies?”

I lead her to the children's room where Luna and Isla are dressed in matching outfits, both playing with the balloons and squealing when one goes too high.

I return to the doorpost, receiving more visitors until I am confident that that is all for the day.

I look around, and I am indeed grateful for life, for my children, and for such a darling man I called my own.

The party organizer, Beatrice, has done a good job with the design, and I see it in the nods of acknowledgment from visitors and the squeals from the children as they discover more delights as they explore the house.

It has been nine months since I left the hospital, nine good months since I had met Ted again and Luna, whom I had assumed was the daughter of another woman.

Good nine months had passed, a time in which my life had transformed from the hellhole in which I had been living and drowning to being happy with an amazing family and radiating because every day, I found more reasons to live.

I take a flute of champagne from the rack on the table, smiling at the woman seated on the chair next to it.

“I like what you did with the place, Winnie, is it? I'm I right?”

I stare at the woman, a middle-aged Hispanic, and without stressing about knowing her face from somewhere, I guess immediately that she is from Ted's hospital and has worked with him before.

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