Baby I'm Yours

by Rosie Praks

  “What is it?” Fern interrupted before he could proceed. She just couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. Hunter’s agitated look and shifty eyes were starting to worry her. “Hunter, tell me.”

  “I’m pregnant,” Hunter puffed out finally.

  “What?” Fern asked, aghast. “Males don’t get pregnant.”

  “No… urgh…” Shit. Why was he mumbling? He’d never been this nervous before. This was Fern, after all, his best friend whom he could tell everything to. “I’m… I mean, I made her pregnant.”

  “You…”

  “Yes.” Hunter nodded again.

  “You… O-M-G.” Fern gasped in shocked surprise and touched her lips. “So can I guess who this someone is?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You made Clarice pregnant?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Congratulations, my friend. So why the glum face, then?”

  “She doesn’t want me.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m undesirable as the father. I don’t have the qualities that make a good father.”

  “Oh.” Fern wasn’t surprised at all that a woman like Clarice would reject her friend. Hunter was a playboy after all.

  “See what I mean,” Hunter drummed in. “Even you agree to that statement. Am I really that lame as a father?”

  “Well, you are a playboy,” Fern stated seriously, tapping her chin.

  “See, even you think I’m a playboy. What am I supposed to do now? I told her I’ve changed, but she won’t believe me. Fern, what do I do? I’m at my wits end here. Help me.” Hunter slumped on the next available chair, his shoulders drooping, not having the energy to fight anymore.

  Yeah, Hunter thought. He did say he would change, but where to start and how? In all his life, no one had ever told him of these bad qualities, not until Clarice came along, and now it was almost too late. He was in love with her, but she didn’t see him as her potential partner, even with their baby as his bargaining point.

  Fern, on the other hand, also found herself a chair and sat down. At present, she was contemplating her friend’s problem. She didn’t answer Hunter’s question right away. Instead, she sat tapping her temple and closed her eyes, thinking of a way to help her friend out. Hunter, though, did not get the message and assuming his friend wasn’t listening to his problem, he suddenly exploded.

  “Fern!” he shouted, awakening her from her thoughts. She almost slipped from the chair. “Are you asleep or even listening to me? I need help here.”

  “I’m thinking, Hunter. Let me think for a bit.”

  “Fine. Take all the time you need. But not too long, though. I have an appointment to attend to after this,” Hunter told his friend, his eyes staring at his wristwatch.

  “What appointment?” Fern asked, piqued at the change of subject.

  “Forget about my appointment for now. Right now, just think,” Hunter demanded, then went back to his worry.

  “No need, Hunter,” Fern said, getting off the chair and standing to her full height.

  “You have an idea?” Hunter sat up straighter, his interest piqued. “Explain, explain. I want to hear it.”

  “Ahem.” Fern cleared her throat before beginning. “Listen well, Hunter,” she began, then started walking around the little conference room, her hands poised behind her back like she was a teacher in a classroom, about to give a lesson to her students. “The female species is like a very delicate flower. They’re like a rose. They may look soft and beautiful, subtle and elegant—”

  “Would you just get straight to the point?” Hunter burst out, his patience running dry. “What’s with all the descriptive speech here?”

  “Hunter.” Fern reprimanded her friend. “If you want to woo a girl, get with the story. Now listen to me and stop interrupting. Now, where was I…? Yes, a woman is like a delicate flower, like a rose. They may look soft and beautiful, subtle and elegant, but they have thorns, so if you hurt them, they will fight back.”

  “How is that analogy supposed to help me with my life?” Hunter questioned with a strange look.

  “Because you might hurt Clarice,” Fern concluded, sitting back on the chair next to Hunter.

  “How so? I don’t understand.”

  “Because you’re a playboy, as I have stated previously. Clarice has already seen you in action, right, with lots of girls flaunting around you?”

  “Urgh, yeah.” Hunter scratched his head, embarrassed to admit the truth. He now realized why Clarice was acting like this. At the supermarket, Mary had come to kiss him and he’d continued to allow her.

  “So…” Fern carried on. “You’ve got to make sure you’re serious. Don’t play with girls anymore. Act serious. Show her you’re serious.”

  “I told her already that I’m serious, though. I told her already I’m a changed man, but she wouldn’t believe. She said she’ll wait and see.”

  “Well, let her wait and see. Show her, Hunter. Show Clarice you’re a changed man. Make her fall in love with Hunter. Woo her and make her fall hard.”

  “Woo her and make her fall hard,” Hunter repeated absently.

  “Yes. We women like our men to chase after us. Woo Clarice and make her fall in love with Hunter. Make it so she can’t live without you. And then when that day comes, she’ll be like a fish that can’t live without water.”

  “Fall for me. Like a fish without water,” Hunter repeated again.

  “Yes, and then confess,” Fern confirmed with a nod of her head.

  “Make her fall for me and then confess?” Hunter asked dumbly, as if that were the secret recipe for love.

  “Yes.” Fern nodded, liking her own idea of a male chasing a female instead of the other way around.

  “Yes.” Hunter nodded again, his eyes shining bright. In fact, Hunter was so happy that he looked upwards in triumph and determination.

  A few seconds later, he heard his friend ask him, “Hunter, how long are you going to stare up at the ceiling? My neck hurts.”

  “Oh, sorry, Fern.” Hunter turned to his friend then and grinned. “I’m just so happy. Thanks a lot for helping me out.”

  “That isn’t a problem. I’m only too happy to help. And I want to see Clarice again and have a proper chat with her.”

  “Yes. I will arrange something in the future, but for now, this Casanova has a woman to catch.” Hunter smiled brightly at his friend.

  “That’s the Hunter I know.” Fern patted his shoulder.

  Hunter felt like a heavy weight had been lifted. He felt the key in his pocket and hoped he could woo her that way. If he couldn’t live with her, the least he could do was watch over her. With that thought, his eyes glinted again.

  “Shoot. I better dash off.” Hunter suddenly remembered his appointment. It was already approaching four o’clock. “I have to find Dad. I hope he hasn’t gone off home yet.”

  “Why are you looking for Senior Silverton?” Fern asked curiously.

  “I’ve got a job I need to find. Wish me luck.”

  “Yes, Hunter. Good luck. I will support you.”

  “Thanks, Fern.” And then Hunter dashed off to the exit door.

  Fern looked around at the conference room now that she was alone. It was a very nice setup for a group of eight to ten people. It was nice and cozy when Hunter was here chatting with her, but now that she was all alone, a sense of loneliness welled up inside her.

  Fern smiled drily at herself. She couldn’t help thinking that if only someone were to pursue her like Hunter did Clarice, then she would be on cloud nine by now. Then this loneliness wouldn’t gnaw at her heart so much.

  Feeling disappointed that the only person she liked didn’t even so much as notice her, she decided to help Hunter and Clarice get together instead, and then she might head back to the US.

  A sharp pain pierced her heart as the thought processed through her mind. She definitely knew now that she liked Anton a lot, even to the point of love. But being a girl, how could she confess that she li
ked him?

  Fern touched her heart and shook her head. If a guy can’t even notice me for my beauty, then what else is there to look at?

  Feeling defeated, Fern sharply opened the door, wanting to get out of her lonely cage, when a huge body came colliding inwards, crashing into her.

  “Jesus Christ,” a voice cursed.

  Fern opened her eyes and saw—

  “Anton,” she exclaimed when she saw Anton holding her tightly around the waist. “What are you doing hiding behind the door?”

  “I… urgh…” Anton was tongue-tied. “I wanted to know what you two were talking about.”

  Fern smirked and a glint lit her eyes. “I thought you two were cousins. If Hunter wanted to tell you something, then Hunter would have done so himself already.”

  “Well, he’s not telling me anything since the night of the pre-conference ball. Can you tell me?” Anton asked. In all of his life, Anton had never asked a woman for assistance before. This would have to be a first.

  “You want me to tell you?” Fern, on the other hand, couldn’t help questioning. Anton had never been the one to approach her in any conversation before. Anton must be getting desperate, she thought.

  “Yes,” Anton admitted blankly, trying to suppress the eagerness that was showing on his face. But in truth, it was already leaking out, a raw and apparent expression that caught Fern’s attention. Suddenly, a light bulb lit inside Fern’s head.

  “Surely a bargain like this would require some type of incentive.” Fern smiled and wound her arms around Anton’s neck, pulling him closer. With her wearing high heels, she and Anton stood face to face.

  “What incentive are you after?” Anton narrowed his eyes, afraid of Fern’s catlike behavior.

  Pulling Anton even closer still until their noses almost touched, Fern said, “Take me out on a date.”

  Chapter 8

  Whether divine intervention really did exist, Hunter was more than pleased when he set foot in his father’s office to find his father busy wolfing down sweets again. There was an assortment of cakes displayed on his office table where office supplies and documents should have been.

  Clinton looked up and was also surprised to see his son in his office. It took him a full thirty seconds to register that it was really his son standing there, not a mirage or a delusion he’d conjured up just because he wanted his son to come to work in the hotel.

  “Dad.” Hunter took the sweet delicacies away from his father’s hand. “Didn’t the doctor say not to eat too many sweets? Your cholesterol might play up again.”

  “All right! All right!” Clinton slapped his son’s hands away from his other treats. “Enough about me. You don’t even come into work, yet you come in to order me around.” Clinton mumbled to himself, shook his head, and snatched the remaining cheesecake in his son’s hands to wrap it in its box. He then placed all his goods in his secret stash drawer for when his son wasn’t here to witness his little feast later. “What exactly are you after, son? Has hell frozen over?”

  Hunter had the nerve to turn red all the way down to his neck. Inside, he was feeling a little guilty. Unless global warming had reached an all-time high and the ice had totally melted off the Antarctic, he would never step foot inside this office. That was why his father questioned him so. He guessed that was one of the qualities Clarice didn’t like about him. He’d never had to work hard in his life.

  “Dad, I want to work here. Please teach me.” He went straight to the point.

  Clinton looked up at his son and then started laughing, his face blowing red like a raspberry, his body shaking like a mini earthquake trembling through his being.

  “What’s so funny? Why are you laughing, Dad?” Hunter asked, annoyed.

  “I’ve never seen you do anything except ask for an extended limit on your credit card so you could spend all that money on your women.” Clinton continued to laugh after the explanation.

  “Dad, I’m serious here.”

  “You are serious, right?” Clinton coughed before his laughter died down and he suddenly realized his son wasn’t joking. Had his mother up in heaven finally decided to correct their son’s brain and now he was fully committed to acting like an adult?

  “How serious are you?” Clinton asked, testing his son’s sincerity on a scale of one to ten.

  “As serious as when you took Elmo from me and hid him in the garage when I was young.”

  “Oh, yes, that was very serious indeed.” Clinton reminisced on the day in which he took his son’s favorite toy from him and hid it in the garage because the boy wouldn’t focus on studying. “I can still remember you crying until you got your toy back. You wouldn’t eat or study.”

  “See. Of course I’m that serious.” Hunter grabbed the seat in front of his father’s desk and sat. “You’ve got to give me a job, Dad. It’s my lifeline.”

  “You sound desperate,” Clinton added.

  “Of course I’m desperate,” Hunter put in. “I need this job like I need air.”

  “Does this have something to do with that confession you made at the pre-conference ball?” Clinton eyed his son suspiciously. “It’s that woman, isn’t it?”

  “Well… yes,” Hunter admitted to his father shyly. All the women he’d slept with in the past had never made him shy when talking to his father, but talking about the one girl he was in love with made him all flustered, like a teenager in love again.

  “Are you going to marry her?” Clinton asked, looking all delightful at once, liking the idea that his son had become serious because of this woman.

  Clinton’s mind wandered to his secretary. He had to get that report off Winton. He told Winton to check for an updated status on that girl his son was so interested in, but it had been a few days now and still the information wasn’t on his desk.

  Turning back to his son, Clinton asked, “So when are you proposing?”

  “Dad, I’m not marrying her yet,” Hunter said and folded his arms. He told his father already that he liked Clarice, but that was all he was saying. If he told his father that she was pregnant with his baby too, then the wedding invitations would be sent out before he could even blink an eye.

  “So you will marry her, then?” Clinton pressed the matter further, not allowing his son to escape this topic.

  “Yes, but not until she says she loves me first.”

  “So the truth is she doesn’t love you.” Clinton tried to grasp the whole situation. “You fell in love with her first.”

  So complicated these young children, Clinton thought to himself. When it was his time, he confessed right away to Hunter’s mother. Even with Betty, his love life was smooth and easygoing, not the “I like her, but I don’t want to marry her yet until she says she loves me first” game.

  “Well…” Hunter thought in response to his father’s questioning. How to explain this? “I don’t know, but I know I like her and I want to be with her.”

  “You are serious, then.” Clinton slumped back to rest in his chair, finally understanding why Hunter was acting like this.

  “I am serious this time,” Hunter drummed in again to emphasize his point.

  “Are you sure, though?” Clinton couldn’t help but ask, just to make sure.

  “Why are you grilling me like this? Of course I’m serious. I’ve told you countless times already.”

  “Well, you always go around to different women. No matter how much I’m disgusted and have told you about your behavior, you never listen to me,” Clinton muttered.

  “But this time I’m serious, Dad, so that’s why I need your help. I need a job. I want to learn the skills.” Hunter begged his father. “Please.”

  “And will this job make her like you?” Clinton asked.

  “Yes. Definitely. That’s what she said. She wants me to make a living with my own two hands. Not to rely on other people. I want to prove to her that I’m a good man to be with.”

  “Okay,” Clinton said happily, fully satisfied with the answer. “I’
ll give you a job.”

  Clinton was so happy at that moment that he thought he deserved another piece of the cheesecake hidden in his drawer. He would make sure to reward himself later when his son left.

  “But I have a request,” Hunter announced, which wiped the smile from Clinton’s face.

  “Request?” Clinton opened his eyes wide. “What request? In all of my life, I’ve never heard of an employee asking for a request immediately after they accepted a job.”

  “Well, it’s just a simple one. I’m sure you’ll help me out.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want to work part time only. From 9:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., four days a week.”

  “Why?” Clinton asked, suspicious again.

  “Because I have other duties I have to perform.”

  “Like what?”

  Like shopping for food, tidying up the house, making sure Clarice is all comfortable when she comes back home from work. All the duties that a househusband should do when his wife is pregnant. But Hunter didn’t say any of those things out loud. Instead, he said, “So will you agree to this deal?”

  “It depends on how sweet you want the deal to be,” his father prompted.

  “As sweet as the deal can get,” Hunter challenged.

  “You do know, son, that if the deal gets really sweet, it can turn into a wedding cake?” Clinton hinted. If he agreed on whatever his son asked of him, then Hunter had to compromise and marry the woman.

  Hunter, who knew the underlying message, only smirked and said, “Let’s not go into a deal that is as sweet as a wedding cake.”

  “Okay, how about as sweet as this chocolate cream bun?” Clinton pulled out his sweet delicacy and showed it to his son.

  Hunter eyed the chocolate cream bun in his father’s hand. The sugary aroma wafted into his nose.

  Hunter knew the chocolate cream bun was sweet, but not a sweet enough deal for him yet. The chocolate cream bun would represent more time in the workplace and less time with Clarice. Right now, his main priority was to spend the minimum amount of time at work and the maximum amount of time by Clarice’s side. Drawing back in his chair, Hunter turned to his father and said, “Sweeter than that.”