Page 91 of Who's Your Daddy?

“Lia, a couple weeksis...two weeks.” The pause in the middle there makes it seem like she’s being careful to not insult my intelligence. But it’s fine if she does because I feel incredibly stupid.

“What do you mean?” I shout. I don’t want to be rude, but I am utterly panicked now. “In what universe does a couple mean just two?”

Again, she pauses as if I’m dumb. “That’s the literal definition of the word couple. Itmeanstwo.”

“Yeah, but nobody uses it like that!” I take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Okay, Dr. Cheng, if I was about nine weeks pregnant when we came in, around when would our baby have been...conceived?”

“Hang on. Let me get your file.” I wait for her while she calls the receptionist to bring my file. “Okay...let’s see.” Papers shuffle in the background. “So, you came in on August, twenty-fourth...Based on the development of the fetus at your first appointment...if we go back...the date of conception would have been around...the second to the sixth of July.”

I go stone cold, and it feels like my stomach just bottomed out. I was still with Teddy then. “Like...like the Fourth of July weekend?”

“Yes. About then.” There’s dead silence for a moment. “Lia, are you okay?”

“Yes,” I squeak out. “Thank you, Dr. Cheng.”

I immediately hang up the phone before she asks any more questions. Restlessness is building up inside me, and I start pacing up and down the living room to get rid of it. It can’t be. It just can’t be. Teddy and I were also always safe.

Well, relatively. There were times when he couldn’t get it up...or keep it up, so we did it without a condom because he said the condom numbed the sensation, but he always pulled out.Always.

I go back to the trusted internet and find out that thepull-outmethod is not an effective method of contraception...at all. Some articles even say that you’re looking for trouble if you use this method. That’s how ineffective it is.

Oh, God!

Oh, shit!

What am I going to do? How am I going to tell Peter?

I call him, then hang up. Call him again, then hang up. I need to talk to him, but I don’t know what to say or how to say it. I shouldn’t say it over the phone, right? I should tell him in person.

Oh, my God. He’s going to hate me.

No, he won’t. He loves me. He loves our baby.

Fuck, it’s notourbaby!

I call him then hang up, then call him again...and hang up again. I walk to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea to calm down, but I feel physically ill. I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to drink it. I turn to get the tea bags from the cupboard, but I’m upstairs in our bedroom.

How did I get up here? I don’t even remember climbing up the stairs, but it’s clear that I can’t get my feet to stop moving. I walk back downstairs, but as I pass through the foyer, the front door swings open.

“Hey, Li,” Peter calls out before he’s even inside. “There you are. Is everything okay?”

I swallow hard, struggling to find my voice in my panic. “Why...why are you home so early?”

He looks at me like I’m deranged. “I saw fourteen missed calls from you. I tried to call you back, but you didn’t answer, so I came home.”

“I called you fourteen times?” I remember the first few, but fourteen? When did I do that? “I didn’t hear my phone. It’s in the living room.”

He walks over to me, cups my face, and tilts my head up so he can study me. “Are you okay? You seem...frazzled. Should I take you to the doctor?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I need to tell you something.”

“Li, we talked about this. I don’t want you getting worked up over...whatever it is you want to tell me, it can wait.”

“It can’t.” I feel the familiar cramp on my side, but I don’t say anything about it. I don’t even rub it because if he sees any discomfort, he’ll put an end to the conversation the way he always does. And I can’t let that happen today. Instead, I just breathe through the pain. “We have to talk about this. Now!”

I walk back to the living room, and he follows me in. We sit down, but I stand back up almost immediately. I’m too restless. I toy with my fingers, twisting them in my T-shirt as brace myself to break this to him.

“I don’t...I don’t...”

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