Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Page 25

“Yes.” For reasons you can’t even imagine.

For a shamefully weak moment, I’m tempted to unload everything on Edgar. His even, unperturbed demeanor adds to his solid quality, making him appear more dependable than gravity. I feel like there’s no problem he can’t solve, no unwanted creep he can’t flick out of his—or my—life with ease.

But I can’t. He and I shared a single hot night. No man wants to get involved in a one-night stand’s drama.

Besides, what can Edgar do? Break all of Aaron’s fingers so he can’t use his computers or phone? Ship him off to a deserted island with no mobile coverage? Edgar’s too proper and responsible. He’d likely get a lawyer or go to the cops, like a good citizen. And those aren’t the solutions I need.

Sighing, I stand. “Edgar, I don’t know what Hugo told you, but I don’t want your money or anything. If I’m pregnant, then I’ll figure things out on my own. If you want a legal statement attesting to that fact, I’ll be happy to provide one. But for now, I really need to figure out this engagement problem.”

He looks at me, blinking. And before he can recover, I pick up my purse, weave quickly through the crowd gathered near the cash register and leave.

Chapter Nine

Jo

It takes exactly zero time to locate my friends at the bar, because Yuna rushes toward me the second I open the door.

“Tell us everything,” she gushes, taking my arm and pulling me none too gently toward the table where the rest of the girls are. “I’m still a little sad you didn’t tell Edgar to put on a dress.” She sighs forlornly. “I’ve never seen a white man in a dress before. Much less a CEO. I was going to lend him my lipstick.”

Despite my less-than-stellar mood, I laugh and take an empty seat.

“Okay, spill it,” Kim says, leaning forward.

Hilary pushes a drink in my direction. “Your favorite martini. I figured you’d need it.”

In any other situation, she’d get an A+ for helping. She’s assistant to a guy who has more money than the gods, and she knows exactly ho

w to anticipate everyone’s needs. Her husband is a lucky man.

But since I might be—okay, I’m probably most likely pregnant—I have to turn it down. Being in denial and procrastinating doesn’t mean I get to be irresponsible. “No thanks. I just want some water.”

Kim stares at me, concern filling her gaze. Hilary blinks blankly, and Yuna is giving me a “Did you get hit on the head?” look.

“I might…could maybe be…pregnant.” I push the words out with a great deal of effort and pain. “It’s so…muddled.”

“Edgar’s baby?” Kim asks, leaning forward.

“Wait, you slept with him and didn’t tell us?” Hilary’s jaw slackens. Her tone says she’s hurt and left out. “When?”

“Is he here to do the right thing?” Yuna demands, obviously going for what she considers the most important point. And why is she using the same phrasing Edgar used? Is marriage the only “right thing”?

I raise a hand. “Okay, stop. In order: Yes. Yes, at the adult cream pie party. And…it’s really complicated.”

“What’s really complicated about doing the honorable thing?” Yuna asks, bristling. “The baby deserves a father! I’m giving him a piece of my mind.” She whips out her phone.

“No, don’t!” I wave at her to put that thing away. I’d die of humiliation if Edgar thought what I was really angling for was marriage after leaving him the way I did at Starbucks. “I told him no. I can’t marry him.”

“You can’t?” Kim purses her lips. It’s the same expression she has when her boss asks her to do something impossible. “How come? You said he was great in bed. Crackgasms, remember?”

Dios mío. I place a hand over my face because I can’t look at Hilary and Yuna right now. Even if it weren’t for Aaron’s threat, I can’t marry Edgar. We’re great in bed together, sure, but marriage is a lot more than that. Like love. True affection. If God asked me to choose between my favorite Dior or a man to take to a deserted island, the immediate choice better be the man or I’m not tying the knot.

“Even if he was only average…or below average in bed, he still needs to do the right thing and marry you. He can always practice to improve his technique,” Yuna says firmly.

“When did you become so conservative?” I ask. Yuna’s many things, but I never expected her to be this old-fashioned. Plenty of single moms raise kids just fine on their own.

Yeah, say that to your mama and papa and see what they say.

I could maybe explain the sex tape, but I can’t explain a baby. Mama and Papa both told me to avoid getting pregnant by someone I can’t see anything long-term with, and I should’ve been more careful. Maybe full-body armor around my eggs. Besides, two crappy blows back to back like this? I’m going to become a hashtag of shame—#DaughterFail.

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