Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2)(32)

They were engaged.

She's lying.

He slept with her.

I knew that.

I knew that.

I knew that!

There's no way this was her ring. The mathematical chances of me describing the exact ring that Kyle had previously purchased for another woman have to be very very small. Yay for math!

I don't like her.

I really don't like her.

I wonder what Kyle saw in her?

I wonder if she's some kind of sex genie with mad skills in bed? Actually, no, strike that. I've got mad skills in bed. I don't care about her skills in bed.

I bet she doesn't swallow.

Oh, my God, stop thinking about this troll having sex with your boyfriend! No, not your boyfriend. Your baby daddy, fiancé, and possible future husband.

I wonder if my unplanned pregnancy has interrupted something between them? If he still wants her?

Well. Honestly, I'm doing him a favor because Margo is horrible. I know I've spent all of a combined ten minutes with her, but sometimes that's all it takes for someone to show you what a troll they are.

I must not school my features as quickly as she did because she snorts and smirks, clearly gleeful at having the perceived upper hand. My stupid expressive face has always gotten me in trouble.

"Did he not tell you that?"

"No." I shake my head, as if confused. "I mean…"—I purposely trail off for a moment—"it's just that he never talks about you at all."

Luckily my bitchy mouth always has my back.

"Listen, Sunflower, you may have him for now, but he always comes back to me."

"It's Daisy. My name is Daisy. Soon to be Daisy Kingston, so you might want to shelve any fantasy you have of getting back together with Kyle, because he's with me now."

Margo snorts. "It won't last. We have a history together you'll never be able to compete with. And he always comes back to me."

"I don't need to compete, Margo. I've already won. Now kindly fuck off so I can get to my meeting."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." God, she looks confident. Liar, liar, liar, I remind myself. Why are lies so effective in being hurtful even when you're certain they're untrue? That the person telling them cannot be trusted? Why does simply hearing them feel so awful? And I know she's lying because if she lied about the ring she could be lying about everything.

"Thank you for the warning, albeit unnecessary. I'll pass along your regards to Kyle. Oh, and a word of advice, Margo. You should have held on a bit tighter when you had him, if he meant so much to you."

I brush past her, hoping I'm projecting a cool indifference but knowing on the inside I'm anything but. But why? Why do I care if Kyle was engaged to someone else once? Would I prefer if that someone were nice? Would I prefer if that someone didn't so obviously want him back?

She's a liar, I remind myself.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

I think.





14





Daisy





When I arrive back at Kyle's that evening he's already there. We have dinner reservations somewhere or other, he tells me, but I'm distracted and tired and a bit cranky. Then he hands me a card.

A credit card.

With my name on it.

"What is this?" I fan the card in front of him, pinched between my fingers. "Are we doing a Daddy thing now? Like, 'call me Daddy,' instead of baby daddy? Because I'm not into that. And that's really something you should talk about beforehand."

"What?" Kyle looks confused about my outburst, then he looks pissed off. "No, don't call me Daddy. For fuck’s sake, Daisy. It's for expenses. For the baby," he adds, before I can interrupt. "You mentioned shopping the other day and I want to pay for whatever the baby needs. If that's okay with you." He says that part sarcastically, as if I'm being ridiculous.

"Oh." Well, sure, that makes more sense. Did I mention that I'm cranky? "I guess. I don't know. Maybe we could split the expenses?"

"We could." He nods. "But it's hardly an even split. I can't help you gestate. I can't help you breastfeed. I'm kinda behind the eight-ball here in terms of doing my share, so helping financially seems like the least I can do."

"Hmm." He's not totally wrong. He should be in charge of breastfeeding, but biology means I'm responsible for everything so I guess I can use his card to buy a pink astronaut cat blanket for Tubbs. "They do need a lot of stuff," I agree, thinking about that kid on the plane and the gate-checked stroller and the diaper bag and Colechester the stuffed kitten. "Hey, do you know anyone who can implant a tracking device?" I had the worst nightmare last night that I lost the baby’s favorite stuffed thing. There's got to be a way to ensure that never happens, right?

"A microchip only works if you scan it. Anything with GPS tracking would require a cellular receiver and a battery so it's not really ethical. Or possible, even."

"Oh, my God, you weirdo, I wasn't talking about for the baby. I was talking about their teddy bear. Or stuffed dog. Or whatever their favorite stuffed thing is that we can never ever lose."

"Right. That's what I meant too." He tugs on his ear and I don't think that's what he meant at all, but I'm mollified that it's not technologically possible to embed a GPS tracker so I drop it. I've got other things on my mind right now.