His Pretend Baby

by Theodora Taylor

  A little while later when I was coming out of the bathroom, I heard Go saying to Marco, “Why did you bring her here? I’m sure you knew she wouldn’t fit in. I don’t understand your plan with her.”

  “Not everyone has a plan,” I heard Marco say. Only to stop when he spotted me standing there.

  So yes, best Thanksgiving ever.

  Not even.

  I so shouldn’t have smoked. I can control my mouth when I don’t smoke. Paste a blank look on my face when I don’t agree and look thoughtful. Thank God I was due at Ruth’s House to help Sam with our annual Thanksgiving dinner. It was the perfect excuse for Marco to get me out shortly after his brief conversation with Go.

  We drove back to my apartment in silence, exchanging good-byes without any kisses. So it came as exactly zero surprise when Marco invited me to lunch at a busy café near Ruth’s House the Monday after the disastrous Thanksgiving dinner.

  “Let me make this easy for you,” I said, without bothering to take off my coat as I sat down across from him at the circular metal table. “We’ve got to break up because I just don’t love Death Buddha nearly as much as you do.”

  “I don’t hate them…” Marco said, wincing at the white lie he’d told to get me to go out with him.

  “But you don’t love them either,” I said, voice quiet.

  And we looked across the table at each other, both knowing we were no longer talking about my favorite band, but about feelings that just weren’t going to happen on either of our parts. Not on his, because I was too much of a freak. Not on mine, because I’d zipped up my heart in the toughest leather a long time ago.

  “This is good,” he’d said, giving me one of those cute dimpled smiles of his. “It will free us both up for other people. I want you to be happy, Nyla.”

  Maybe if Marco hadn’t met Sophia shortly afterwards while representing the Indianapolis police force at a gala the college was throwing, that might have been the end of our story. If he’d decided to get into a relationship with anyone but my foster sister, we might have actually continued to be friends. Friends just like him and Sam who treated each other in the utmost professional manner whenever he responded to a call at Ruth’s House. After all, this wasn’t my first rodeo. I’d been dumped plenty of times. By families and by boys, and I’d wisely kept my heart out of our relationship. There was no reason the break-up with Marco should have been bitter.

  But I received a gentle call from Sophia on my work phone just a few weeks after our break-up.

  “I didn’t want to upset you,” she said after contacting me out of the blue “to check in” as she called it.

  Go hadn’t been wrong about there being an unspoken reason behind my degree in psychology. I’d mostly pursued the subject out of true interest, but there been more to it than that. And it was deeply connected to my need to try and understand what had gone wrong with Sophia and her family. The Perezes, who’d accepted me with loving arms and had even started adoption proceedings, only to turn on me that fateful night.

  But I’d learned a lot over the course of getting a degree. What happened hadn’t been my fault. Or Sophia’s. We’d both been children, and she, like Sam, had grown into a wonderful woman. One who put others before herself and worked tirelessly as a Financial Aid Coordinator so girls with backgrounds like mine could receive degrees in Child Psychology.

  So even when she introduced the subject of her and Marco dating, I didn’t think I was angry. Or bitter that she’d be getting the guy and his almost perfect family.

  “My dad’s dead now, and I want to keep the past in the past,” she’d told me. “Plus, Marco’s a really nice guy. I like him so much, but if you don’t want us to date…”

  I’d given her my blessing to date my ex-boyfriend, just like Sam had given me hers. I’d wished her and Marco well, and really meant it.

  At least, I thought I had. But then Marco had shown up at the Halloween fundraiser Sam and her husband Nikolai threw for Ruth’s House at their stately mansion, which was located in the same neighborhood where Marco’s parents now lived. He’d decided to come dressed as a robber, in black jeans and a black skull cap paired with a tight black and white long-sleeved tee that showed off his muscles to perfection. Which was both ironic and funny—not just because he was a cop in real life, but because I’d also come dressed as a robber, in a black and white bodycon dress paired with a black skull cap and tights.

  “We match,” he’d said with a chuckle when we ran into each other at the open bar. The champagne had been flowing. And I remembered how he’d made me laugh with his perfectly timed jokes. He’d offered to walk me out and when I told him to give my best to Sophia, he’d mentioned they were on a break. Something about her wanting to settle down and him being not quite ready yet...

  “Also, she kind of looks like she could be one of your sisters,” I pointed out with an unkind snort.

  “Ew! Why would you put that image in my head?” he’d demanded. Only to say a moment later, “But my parents do kinda love her more than any other girlfriend I’ve ever had….”

  We’d laughed together, burping champagne…

  Then we’d woken up the next day in my bed.

  The only person who regretted it more than me was Marco.

  “Oh God, oh God, why did I do this?” he kept repeating. “This wasn’t in the plan.”

  I remember thinking he sounded just like his brother as he pulled his costume back on, mumbling, “The plan was to stay with Sophia. Eventually marry her…”

  He broke off with an apologetic grimace as if just now remembering I was still there. “You’re a nice girl, Nyla, but I really do love her. And I was hurting because she told me to commit or get off the toilet. But committing was always the plan. To be with her. Not you. I just needed time…”

  I wasn’t that nice. The fact that I’d slept with him proved that, but I really tried in that moment. Tried to be a better person than I’d been the night before.

  “Plus, we were both really, really drunk,” I told him and myself, trying to reconcile what we’d done.

  But Marco was the perfect gentleman as he finished putting on his clothes and beat the hastiest of exits. He never once made me feel like our one night stand was in any way my fault, even though when he was sober, he obviously preferred Sophia. The pretty do-gooder. Not black and twisty me with a punk-rock wardrobe, a ton of face jewelry, and a job that while honorable, didn’t exactly make for light conversation at the dinner table.

  Of course he wanted Sophia, not me. Sophia’s the kind of girl boys bring home to announce their engagement. I’m the kind of girl boys bring home because they want to piss off their parents. Which was why I’d been surprised that Marco, an upstanding police officer with an excellent reputation and a close-knit Hispanic family, had asked me out in the first place.

  Plus, after everything she’d been through, Sophia deserved to be happy. Happy with a guy like Marco.

  If not for the period that never came, I’m sure Marco would have gone down in my heart as just another relationship that hadn’t worked out, followed by a really ill-advised one night stand. But my period didn’t come. And it being the holiday season, a notoriously hectic time for domestic abuse shelters, I’d been too busy to notice the missing period until I’d finally gotten around to cleaning up my apartment a few days after Christmas and noticed the super-sized box of tampons I’d bought at Sam’s Club while shopping for the shelter’s annual Thanksgiving celebration. A box I still hadn’t used, though I remembered thinking at the time that I had to buy them because my period would be coming any day now…

  Stress, I told myself. It was probably stress.

  But it wasn’t stress.

  A hastily bought drugstore test and a visit to my OB/gyn confirmed that.

  A lot of other women in my position might have optioned out of becoming a mother at the age of twenty-seven to her ex-boyfriend’s baby. And I won’t say I didn’t think about it. But I didn’t think about it for very l
ong.

  A lot of other women would have terminated the pregnancy or considered other options, but a lot of other women still had living parents or siblings or at least one person in this world who loved them. I had nothing. And as tough as I’d been trying to be since the incident with the Perezes, I couldn’t fathom giving up this child. Almost as soon as I found out I had a baby on the way, I knew I’d be keeping it.

  Plus, I had a few resources. Not many. But some. I knew Sam, my wonderful boss, would help me in any way she could. And I was smart. I could figure out how to raise a baby alone, even if Marco decided he didn’t want anything to do with it. Still, my heart was beating like a drum when I walked into the station and asked Marco if he had a minute to talk.

  “Thank you,” he said after I told him in the station’s relatively quiet break room. “This is a hell of a thing to find out after getting back together with Sophia, but I really appreciate you telling me. It can’t have been easy.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know things are going really well between you two now, and that night...”

  “Was a mistake. A big mistake.” He ran a hand through his shiny black hair. “Sorry, Nyla, but I never should have gone off-plan.”

  “It’s okay,” I answered, because he was right. That night was such a colossal mistake. Now that we’d shed our matching costumes, anyone who saw us standing there awkwardly in the break room would have easily seen we weren’t a match and had no business hooking up on Halloween.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, looking much older than his thirty-five years. “So I guess my little brother would tell me to ask you about your plan…”

  “I don’t really have one,” I admitted. “Other than keeping it. I know I’m keeping it.”

  He nodded. “Okay…okay…” he said. “I guess that means we have a few things to figure out. But first…”

  He released a weary breath and looked down as if deciding something. “I need to talk to Sophia.”

  “Of course,” I said, nodding.

  “We’ve been together a year. I was going to propose to her on Christmas…”

  It takes two to tango, but I felt like the scum of the earth.

  “Oh Marco. Take your time,” I told him.

  “This is going to cause so many problems,” he said with a heavy sigh. “But I’ll talk to Sophia and then call you first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Whenever. Seriously, take your time,” I said. “I should get back to work, though...”

  He nodded, looking as if he was in a complete daze. “Yeah, yeah, let me talk to Sophia. Then I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” he said again.

  “Okay,” I agreed, not bothering to point out he was repeating himself as I headed toward the break room door. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. And the truth was, I really wasn’t looking forward to talking to him the next day.

  But tomorrow never came.

  Instead, when I woke up the next morning, it was to the news that Marco had been killed in the early hours of the morning by a drunk driver going the wrong way on the highway. I spent a good chunk of the day reading the many news reports about the death of one of Indiana’s finest and the brother of a tech superstar. Several news outlets honed in on one detail, the ring he’d had in his pocket—which he’d never been able to give to his girlfriend.

  It was horrific news and over a week later, I was still wrapping my head around the fact that Marco never even got the chance to talk to Sophia. That our conversation had been one of his last.

  And now here I am, in the study of a mansion his brother bought for their parents, telling him his dead brother left something behind. Something pretty big.

  My announcement resonates through the room, leaving an echo of shock in its wake.

  Go blinks, his eyes going to the side. Then he strokes his beard and says, “You slept with my brother before his death.”

  “Yes,” I answer, though I’m not sure if he’s actually asking a question.

  “When?”

  “On Halloween.”

  “On Halloween. Even though he was in a relationship with Sophia?”

  “They were on a break. A really small break that ended with our one-night-stand. But still I—I’m not proud that it happened…”

  For what feels like a full minute, Go stares at me. His face a hard blank. It’s like he’s buffering, using all of his processing power to compute what I’ve just told him.

  Then he blinks again and says, “Okay, we need a plan.”

  “A plan, yes,” I agree, feeling not a little relieved. “I wasn’t quite sure how to break this news to your parents. But if you have some ideas...”

  “Not some ideas, Nyla. A plan. You’ll marry me, and I’ll raise this baby as my own.”

  3

  Now it was my turn to blink in shock. “Say what now?” I ask.

  “I’m sure you heard me…” he answers.

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure I heard you right.”

  He grunts, like it’s a hardship for him to wait for my feeble brain to catch up. “There’s no other solution to this situation. You’re carrying my brother’s baby. This would be my parents’ first grandchild. The first child to carry on my father’s name. Also, they’re not emotionally equipped to handle a child being born out of wedlock right now. To a woman without a plan, who might not only give the child her last name, but also leave the state as soon as her boss decides to open another shelter.”

  My eyes narrow. I could understand him being able to glean the stuff about the last name, but how had he known Sam and I had talked about me moving to another state to open another Ruth’s House?

  “Sam’s mission to open a Ruth’s House in every state is all over the shelter website,” he points out. “And so far, you seem much more concerned with carrying out her life plan than coming up with a plan of your own.”

  I frown, not knowing whether to be impressed or insulted that he’d assessed my situation so thoroughly.

  Before I have a chance to make up my mind though, he points out, “I’m presenting you with a new plan. A better plan.”

  “No, no, I can’t just marry you!” I say, shaking my head.

  He glares at me. “What did you come here looking for then, Nyla?” he demands. “Money? Attention? To see if Marco’s stock in my company will now transfer to you and this child instead of my parents? What exactly were you hoping to get out of this announcement?”

  “Nothing!” My eyes widen, barely able to keep up with all the accusations he’s throwing at me. “I just wanted your parents to know. Sooner than later. I just…”

  I don’t have the words to explain myself. Can’t figure out how to explain how I would have given anything to have something left of my parents after they died.

  “I was hoping they’d be happy,” I admit. “I was hoping they’d think of this baby as a gift.”

  “Happy,” he repeats, his voice dripping with derision. “When you could leave the state at any minute, as soon as your boss decides she’s ready to have you live out her dream. Taking Marco’s only child with you. For all they know, even if we pay you a large sum to keep us in this child’s life, you’ll eventually leave Indiana or marry someone who doesn’t want them around, and they’ll never see their grandchild again. Those are the kind of options you have now that Marco’s dead.”

  My heart sinks, realizing how this must look from Go’s point of view. “No, I wouldn’t do that. I’d want your family to know this baby. Of course I’d want them in the child’s life.”

  “Under what conditions? For holidays? Weekends? Whenever you need a babysitter?” His face goes ugly. “Or money?”

  “No! I’m not trying to take advantage of them, and will you please stop talking to me like I’m some rando off the street?! I didn’t come here to grift your parents. I swear it. I know you want to think some kind of way about me, because—actually, I have no idea why you’re so hell bent on thinking I’m out to get you guys.”

  “Mayb
e because you’re a girl Marco had no business dating in the first place. With only a low five-figure job, and nothing to your name but a bunch of student loans, a large amount of credit card debt, and two dead parents who can’t help you with any of it.”

  I blink. Stop. Then blink some more. “Wait a minute, did you have me investigated or something?”

  “Of course I had you investigated!” he snarls back with no remorse whatsoever. “I’m extremely rich, and my brother was too nice for his own good.”

  I throw up my hands. “I had no idea you were Marco’s brother when he asked me out! He was so cool and down to earth, it never would have occurred to me his brother was a rich asshole.”

  Go scowls at me, then informs me, “Marco donated the shares I gave him in my company to charity. He said others needed it more than he did. Maybe you didn’t know about that.”

  “No, I didn’t,” I answer. “But that was truly charitable of him. I can’t say I’m surprised at all. He was a really good guy. We all know that.”

  My answer, honest as it is, only seems to incense Go more. “So you expect me to believe you just showed up here, without any designs to get your hands on the money my parents got in the sale of the company?”

  He was accusing me of lying. And for a moment the old panic mutes me. I hate being accused of lying. Hate it.

  But I refuse to let this huge bearded robot standing in front of me make me feel like I’m some sort of gold digger out to get his family’s money.

  “Listen,” I say to him, steeling my voice so it doesn’t shake. “Marco is dead. I still can’t believe it, but he’s gone. I wasn’t even going to come here, but I wanted to make things a little better for your parents today. I thought knowing this would do that.”

  “This doesn’t make anything better for them,” he informs me viciously. “Marco is dead! Their oldest son, their favorite son is dead! And there’s nothing I can do about it—” He breaks off, his voice cracking with barely checked emotion, and I know then that he is definitely not a robot.