Pregnant For My Ex's Father

Seven

KAREN’S POV.

“Uh.” My brain began to work five miles per second, as I struggled to find an answer.

He continued staring at me with that blank stare, expecting my reply. “I was a little worried, thinking I offended you.”

“And why would you think that?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Because, uh, you… actually, you don’t talk to me that much. You don’t look like you wish to see me either.” I lied. There was no way on earth I was telling him about the baby. At least, not until I'd sorted out what I was going to do.

“Why would I want to speak with a spy my enemy sent to destroy my image?”

Great! He still thought I was some silly spy sent to destroy him.

“I’m not a spy, Mr. Sanchez.”

“If you accidentally let the word Mr. Sanchez slip out of your mouth tomorrow, you’ll be done for. It’s Ashley to you.”

How was I to call him Ashley? His request was ridiculous.

“Ash…” Eek! That was so hard to pronounce. “Ashley, I’m not a spy or anything. The night we… I mean, the night we met, I was drunk because your so…” I almost slapped myself.

Me and my damned mouth.

His brows crossed, “Can you actually talk properly— without pausing— like you possess at least an iota of sense?”

Wow. That was harsh.

“The night we met, I was drunk, and it was actually my first time meeting you in all my life. If I knew who you were, it would be impossible, even in my drunken state, for that to happen.” I said, and he got up from his seat, walking towards me.

He didn’t stop even after he got too close, and I had to be the intimidated one, taking a step backwards.

He bent, our faces mere inches away.

Jeez. It was so unfair. Why would the heavens stab me in the back by presenting me with a man who looked nothing like his age? His eyes were a piercing blue, just like Liam’s. It was finally no wonder Liam still possessed his boyish look, even at the age of twenty-three. How was I to keep the reminder that he was Liam's father when he looked so young, and hauntingly perfect?

“Lying to me would make everything ten times worse. Once I get confirmation that you were sent, I will rip you to shreds.”

The sincerity, and seriousness almost made me ask myself for a second if I was sure of what I was saying.

“Fine. Rip me. Who’s that enemy of yours anyway. Pr…present me to him.”

He withdrew. “Wait and see. Now follow me.” He said, walking away.

“Sir. Where to?”

I was just getting home.

He didn’t reply. He just kept on walking, and I was forced to follow him, even though my body was aching to hit the bed.

We got into his car, and he started the ignition, driving away.

“When are we seeing your parents tomorrow? Before or after work?” I asked, wanting to break the intense silence that was building up thickly like wax.

“After.”

“Oh.”

I guessed I had lots of time to practice calling my ex’s father by his name in an affectionate way.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“What?” He suddenly stepped hard on the brakes, skidding us to a halt. My hair fell around my face in waves, with my mouth wide open in shock.

What the heck was that? How would he just stop all of a sudden, without warning. What if we were already on the highway?

“Say it again.” He said, and I brushed my hair from my face to meet his beautiful eyes on mine.

“I’m Twenty-two.”

“How can you be twenty-two?”

“Why shouldn’t…? Is there any reason why I can’t be twenty-two?”

He hit the steering wheel hard, making me jump.

“Who knows what that damned lady will say about this? Being in a relationship with a girl who was a year old when I was… oh s**t. This is so…”

“I’m not a girl, sir… Ashley.”

“And what are you?”

“Of course, a woman. Unless, this would be considered child abuse. Twenty-two is quite grown.”

“Did you even go through college?”

“Maybe back in your time twenty-two was still in college, but nowadays, twenty-two year olds are graduates.” I said, pointing out the obvious.

My lips burned to ask him his age because to me, he was a thirty-two year old man. How could anyone still have such youthful looks? Honestly, and with much shame, I’d pick Liam’s father over him. Or did he impregnate a girl at an awfully young age?

And who was the damned lady he was talking about? Could that be his mother? His wife???

He continued to drive, and all along, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him.

“I never knew you talked this much.” He spat.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m used to presenta…”

“It’s Ashley!”

“Oh. I…I’m sorry, Ashley.”

Ashley, Ashley, Ashley… I repeated his name over and over in my head, needing to get used to it in time.

We stopped at a boutique, and I felt a mix of feelings. When was the last time I’d come to the boutique to get clothes for myself? Being an absolute workaholic, spending time to think of clothes was out of the option.

Walking in, I looked around at the season outfits placed on display, all looking enticing to the eye.

“Welcome. How may I help you?” A sales associate asked, with a bright smile.

“A dinner gown.” Ashley replied, looking around.

“Come with me, please.” The sales associate replied, and we went with her, walking past rows and rows of beautiful designs.

Finally, she stopped, and Ashley and I looked around.

There were lots of dinner gowns set on display, each of them speaking of wealth and class.

I couldn’t help my jaw from hanging open. I was mesmerized. Maybe all this would have been perfect if Liam didn't have to be in the equation.

Ashley picked out a black velvet gown, with a slit running from its thigh, and draped sleeves, without straps.

“Put it on.” He said, pushing the dress to me, before going to sit on the sofa. He crossed his legs elegantly, and once more, I thought; This couldn’t be Liam’s father.

I went into the dressing room, and changed into the gown.

Wow. I was immediately transformed into something else. The white of my skin was contrasted against the black velvet, making every feature of my face, neck and shoulders stand out gorgeously.

Jewels were encrusted in the center of my chest where the draped sleeves met, and also above the slit running down my thigh.

For a better look, I packed my hair into a messy bun. I loved the dress already, and wouldn’t want him to ask me to change it. If I was going to meet his parents; then it might be a little helpful if they liked me, and didn't wish to dig into my background like the rich families in movies liked to do when their sons brought women home for marriage.

Just imagine them digging into my background, and finding out who I was to both father and son.

Chills ran down my spine.

“How is this, Ashley?” I asked the mirror, still staring at myself like I was someone else.

I walked out of the dressing room, and approached Ashley carefully. He had a glass of wine in his hands, and raised it to his lips to drink, but the moment he saw me, the hand froze in mid-air.

And, oh boy, lots of messages passed in his eyes.

Unspoken messages.