Trista Kinney:I’m pregnant.
Toxic:I’m sorry, pregnancy is beautiful, but it’s not my kink.
Trista Kinney:I meant with your baby!
UNDELIVERABLE.
Huh? I click on Toxic’s profile picture, and the word BLOCKED appears on my screen.
That mother fucker blocked me!
It’s just like a man to disappear when he knocks a woman up.
Except that’s not what happened. Rereading his message, I get the feeling it’s not that he’s running away from his child. He just doesn’t want to have sex with a pregnant woman.
Not that I wanted to have sex with him, anyway.
Well, maybe a little.
Stop acting so horny!
Focus. Think about the situation. Form a plan.
Using the Trista profile, he had no way of knowing he’d had sex with me, and now that I’m blocked, I can’t tell him the truth. I could show up at his work and spring it on him, but that would only create unnecessary drama.
I’d been against contacting him with my actual account because it has my real name and business attached to it, but now that I’ve learned a little about him, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.
I log into my Samantha Weston account, pull up his profile, click the CHAT icon, and type out my message.
SEND.
Toxic
A mile into biking, a message pops up on Chatter. I wipe the sweat from my brow and continue, lost in thought.
I still can’t believe that woman tried to have sex with me while pregnant. I’ve heard that pregnant women are super horny, but I always figured it was with their husbands or baby’s daddy. Why risk hooking up with a random guy?
There’s no point in dwelling on it. She’s blocked now, and that’s the end of it.
After putting in twenty miles, I relax in the lounge with an ice cold beer. Remembering the message I received on Chatter, I open the app, shocked when I see the profile picture of the gorgeous woman who’s been haunting my dreams.
DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MESSAGE?
Hell, yeah, I accept!
Samantha:Remember me? We met a few months ago, after one of your shows. This will probably come as quite a shock, but I thought you should know that I’m pregnant. I’m not asking you for any money, but I do think we should meet up to discuss the details.
Good for her, but why the hell is she telling me?
Oh, fuck…
It’s impossible. I always use protection.
Except…she’d caught me off guard, and I wasn’t about to say no.
Math is hard when you’re working with too many unknown variables. Like dates.
I suppose I should ask her the obvious.
