Page 23 of The Wedding Hoax

“We didn’t use any last night. Do we need to pick up some Plan B or—”

“Not necessary.”

“Oh. Because you’re already on something? The shot? The pill?”

“Not necessary because my body is the ultimate pregnancy preventer,” she joked, but her laughter seemed hollow. “I have severe endometriosis. Which means it’s pretty hard for me to get pregnant without some major surgery. And even if I did get the surgery, nothing’s guaranteed.”

“Oh.” I hesitated, afraid to push the subject. “I’m sorry. That must be so hard.”

“It used to be.” She shrugged. “Now, it’s just another fact of life. Not the best. Not the worst. Just a fact.”

I stared over at her, trying my best to read her facial expression. But Simone wasn’t giving me a thing, her features calm and unmoved. I couldn’t tell if she was downplaying her emotions around pregnancy, or if she genuinely didn’t care about it.

Hell, maybe she never had.

“Would it be awful if I admitted that I’m a little relieved?” I started.

“Because you don’t have to spend forty bucks on Plan B?”

“Because I don’t think I’m cut out for kids. Ever. Just the thought of them gives me nightmares.”

“Really? Why?” She tilted her head to the side. “I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who was afraid of anything.”

“I’m not afraid of the kids themselves. I’m afraid of all that responsibility.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Kids would need so much from me, and I don’t know if I’d ever be able to give them enough. Honestly, and this is going to sound awful, but I really don’t think I’d ever be able to choose anything over LA Now. If my kid had a recital or something, they’d always come second. Always. That company is everything to me.”

“Hmm.” Simone set the menu down in her lap. “In that case, I think you’re right. You’re not cut out for kids.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m just agreeing with you.”

“It’s just the way you said it.” I chuckled. “Like you didn’t need to think about it at all. I think it’s great you’re self-aware about it. Seriously. Do you know how many people can’t admit that to themselves? That they’d be bad parents?”

A bad parent?

Sure, I might’ve been overworked, but I never said anything about being a bad parent.

As Simone’s words rattled around in my head, she went right back to reading over the menu. I was deeply annoyed by her comment, but I couldn’t tell her that, not after saying that I wasn’t cut out for kids.

What was I so annoyed about, anyway? Wasn’t I the one who’d brought it up to begin with?

Still, the comment stayed on my mind, even as we shared an order of boozy eggs and cinnamon French toast.

* * *

“I’ve never been super interested in the beach,” I admitted while I set out a blanket against the sand. Simone was next to me, lying out on a blanket of her own.

She was also wearing a hot pink two-piece, so much of her skin on full display.

A part of me wanted to see her without the bikini, of course. But another part of me wanted to offer her a cover-up, like she was showing herself off when that part of her was only meant for me to see—

“What do you mean? Not super interested in the beach?” Simone’s question interrupted my line of thinking. “But you’re from Los Angeles.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m a beach person.”

“Yes, it does! It means you’re the prime example of a beach person!”

“I just never really got the appeal of it.” I shrugged. “You sit outside all day and do what? Let the sun fuck up your skin?”

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