Page 84 of Who's Your Daddy?

16. Lia

Iget out of the carand stretch my legs, basking in the late afternoon sun. I’m always grateful for weather like this. It’s a nice, cool day, slightly overcast with just the right amount of sun. The crisp January air is exactly what I need. I now understand why people call it a bun in the oven. I feel like a literal furnace is constantly burning inside me, and the cool breeze hitting my face is highly appreciated.

I’ve grown substantially in the last five weeks. Most days, I feel like a beached whale. I’m becoming more impatient as my due date creeps closer. Although I love being pregnant, I can’t wait to have my body to myself again. I’m exhausted because it’s so difficult to sleep. Peter’s role as my nighttime cuddle partner has been usurped by my pregnancy pillow. It is currently my most prized possession. I would fight off a mountain lion for it.

Peter has also changed in the last five weeks. He’s become so protective, annoyingly so. I can’t bend over or lift anything without him freaking out. He’s so overbearing sometimes. He even got people in to reroute the footage of all the security cameras around the entire complex, so he can alsokeep an eyeon things as if the four security guards aren’t enough.

But I love that he does stuff like that. I appreciate all the little things he does for me, from the foot rubs to the late-night runs to the store when I’m craving ice cream. He’s incredible, a complete one-eighty from the man I met just seven months ago.

I guess he’s always been the type who cares about the people around him. That hasn’t changed, but he didn’t have any goals or sense of purpose when I first met him. He was enjoying single life with no responsibilities, and now he’s the poster boy for a responsible dad.

He set up all the baby gates this week and got covers for every wall socket in the house. And while I definitely think that he goes overboard sometimes, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t absolutely smitten by everything he does for our baby. Like, I am in a constant state of swoon just watching him. The excitement on his face every time we go for an ultrasound. The way he smiles when he feels our little guy kick. The way he props himself on his elbows next to me to talk to my belly each night. Sometimes he even sings. Off-key, but I still love it. So, yeah, it’s everything. Everything turns me to mush inside.

I’m falling for him so hard and so fast that sometimes I have to pinch myself as a reminder that it’s real. And it is real. Everything is perfect.

Well, not everything. I still have this one stupid secret hanging over my head. I’ve tried to tell him three times now and every time, I got so worked up that I couldn’t even get any words out. My reaction each time was instantaneous. My throat clogged up and I couldn’t breathe, no matter how many breaths I inhaled. My heart went into hyper-drive, feeling like it was going to burst right out of my chest. And then that dreaded cramp in my stomach started.

I don’t know if it’s the pain of losing my parents or the anxiety of admitting that Teddy is my ex and not my father that causes such a visceral reaction, but I still haven’t been able to tell Peter the truth. Each time we sat down to talk about it, the conversation ended with him telling me to calm down and leave it for another day.

The last time it happened, I decided I would just wait until the baby was born. It causes too much stress, and I don’t want to put my baby through that for a stupid lie. And it’s a stupid lie that has no impact on our lives. Teddy’s in the past. I have no feelings for him whatsoever, so I don’t think Peter will have a problem with that part of the lie. Yes, it’s embarrassing that I dated a forty-six-year-old married man for over a year, but everyone has a past, and that part of my life is over. Peter’s reasonable enough to not let that bother him.

It's admitting that Teddy is not my father that’s the issue. And then telling him about what really happened to my parents...that’s the part that might be difficult to swallow. But at the end of the day, that part sadly also has no impact on our lives because telling him won’t change the fact that my parents are gone.

So, I’m choosing to put the well-being of my baby first for now, and I’ll have this discussion with him after he’s born. Peter’s right. He’s not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. This can wait.

Peter grabs our bags from the trunk, and I follow him as he walks to the door of his beach house. With only twelve weeks to go, we decided to enjoy a weekend away before we lose our freedom. He’s brought me here a couple times, so I know the drill. I pick up the case disguised as a rock that contains the key and unlock the front door.

“I think I’m going to have a long soak,” I say as we walk in. “Do you wanna join me?”

“We’re gonna be here the whole week. We have plenty of time for that. Let’s do something different tonight.”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, intrigued.

Instead of taking our bags upstairs, he walks straight to the glass sliding door on the opposite side and exits the house again.

Our feet sink into the sand as we walk across the beach to the pier. It’s then that I realize where our true destination is. I spot it off in the distance.

“Oh, my God! Is that a yacht?” I ask in awe.

“Yep.”

“You own a yacht?”

“Nope. It’s my dad’s, but he lets me use it whenever I want.”

Excitement is pumping madly through my veins as we head down the pier. My walk is more of a waddle now, but not even that slows me down. A smaller boat is waiting at the pier to take us out to sea. The late afternoon sun has begun its slow descent toward the horizon, and the yacht, christened"Sea Serenity"casts a shimmering reflection on the calm waters of the bay. It’s a vessel of elegance and luxury, its sleek white hull glistening in the warm, golden light.

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