Page 72 of Who's Your Daddy?

“Just think about it.”

“There’s nothing to think about. It’s a terrible name,” I say, and I can hear the weariness in my voice. I’m tired. I feel like crap all the time. “When is this going to end?”

“Well, they say it’s only for the first trimester. We’re already at eleven weeks. So, hopefully, in a week or two, you’ll start feeling like yourself again. Maybe that’s when the pregnant glow comes in.”

After popping the gum into my mouth, I look up at him with puffy eyes. “Am I not glowing now?”

“I mean...of course. Every time I walk in here and see you hurling over the toilet bowl, I am just enamored by your...radiance.” He snickers, then quickly clears his throat to cover it up. “Such poise. Such elegance. The beauty of it almost brings me to tears.”

“I can see you’re really choked up about it.”

He shuts his eyes and nods with the conviction of a melodramatic C-grade actor. “The raw emotions are just too overwhelming for me.”

“That was moving.” I put on my best presenter voice. “And the Oscar for the most believable display of bullshit goes to...” I pause for dramatic effect. “Peterrrrrr Danahay!”

He chuckles. “Thank you. Thank you.” With his arm still around me, he clasps his hands together, shaking them twice to the right and twice to the left as if he’s won an award. “I’d like to thank the academy and my co-star, Lia. Without you, none of this would’ve been possible. You made it easy to stay in character because even on days like this when you feel like death, even when you are sitting on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet bowl...” He brushes the hair off my forehead before dipping his head to kiss the tip of my nose. “You’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

If he throws in a grin, I’m literally going to turn to mush.

Ugh! And there it is. His lips quirk up, and it’s like someone switched a blender on inside me. I’m puree.

This is why I find him impossible to resist. He hits me with these playboy lines, but he says them with so much sincerity that I believe him. I had my doubts and reservations about actually entering into arealrelationship with him, but these last two weeks have allayed all my fears.

He meant what he said about making me and our baby the priority. He proves it with actions and words. He still gets messages from random women to hook up, but he leaves all of them on read. I have to acknowledge that as a sign that he meant what he said. And he hasn’t done one thing to make me think that he’s doubting or reconsidering his decision. In fact, every day he leans in more, which makes me lean in more. Every day, I let go of a little more skepticism and allow myself to believe that he won’t break my heart.

But it’s days like these that make me realize I made the right choice with him. He doesn’t have to sit here and hold my hair back while I puke, but he does it every time. It’s not just sweet, it’s intimate somehow, a bonding moment.

We’ve had a few of them in the last two weeks. When he held my hand the whole way through Scott and Catalina’s wedding. When he slipped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck while I was cooking dinner last night. Even sex doesn’t feel like sex anymore. This man makes love to me with such exquisite tenderness.

He told me he’d come all the way over to my side if I just stopped pulling away. He’s fulfilling his side, but I’ve been slightly hesitant to fully put my trust in him because I’ve been hurt before. But Peter proves to me every day that he’s nothing like Teddy. Protecting myself has become second nature, and I think I pull away without even thinking sometimes. I’m going to make an active effort to change that. I need to stop being scared and lower my guard. If the last few weeks are anything to go by, we could be amazing together if I just give this my all.

So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to take the leap and trust that this manwhore catches me.

“Wow, you’re blushing,” Peter says, curling his arm tighter around my neck. “So, now that I’ve softened you and made you susceptible to my charms, I’m going to ask this again...Can we name him Ambrose?”

“Still a no.”

“Dammit.”

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