Chapter 5 Pregnant For A Gigolo

• Serena
• Two weeks later.
• I felt drowsy the entire day, my body feeling heavier than usual. Maybe it was the long shifts. Maybe it was the stress of starting over in a city where no one knew me.
• I had taken a job at a small hotel, working the night shift. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid enough for me to keep moving.
• Tonight, though, I missed my shift. And, of course, Miss Jenkins, my sharp-eyed, no-nonsense manager, noticed.
• “Late again,” she huffed the moment I walked into the break room. Her graying hair was tied in its usual tight bun, glasses low on her nose as she gave me a knowing look. “What was it this time? The train? Or did you just decide sleep was more important than your job?”
• I rubbed my temple, trying to fight off the pounding headache. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
• Miss Jenkins scoffed. “Not feeling well? Girl, I’ve been working this job for twenty years, and I don’t feel well every damn day. You still show up. That’s what working people do.”
• I bit my tongue. Arguing wouldn’t help. I already saw the deducted pay on my timesheet.
• “Won’t happen again,” I muttered.
• She eyed me for a moment before sighing. “Go mop the front. And drink some damn water, you look like you’re about to pass out.”
• Dragging myself toward the cleaning supplies, I wished I could say I had energy, but every part of me felt sluggish.
• I shook my head. It was probably nothing.
• I had bigger problems to deal with.
• I barely managed to grab the mop before the room spun. The fluorescent lights blurred into streaks, and my breath caught.
• Then the last thing I saw was darkness.
• ———
• “She’s waking up.”
• “Damn, she scared me.”
• “Maybe she’s pregnant.” Someone chuckled.
• I groaned, my body heavy as I forced my eyes open on a stiff cot and The scent of antiseptic filling my nose . I was in a small clinic room with a weakly buzzing fan overhead.
• “You scared the hell out of us, girl,” Marcy, one of my coworkers, said, arms crossed. “You just dropped.”
• “I—” I tried to sit up, but my head throbbed.
• “You’re dehydrated, exhausted, and running on fumes,” the nurse stated, checking my vitals. “When was the last time you ate properly?”
• I didn’t answer. Honestly, I couldn’t remember.
• “You need rest,” the nurse continued. “Your body shut down on you.”
• Rest? That was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
• As if on cue, Miss Jenkins walked in, arms folded. “Well, well. Back from the dead, are we?”
• I winced.
• She shook her head. “Look, I’m glad you’re not dead on my property, but this little fainting stunt cost us an hour of work. You know what that means.”
• My stomach clenched.
• “Docked pay,” she finished. “You can’t be dropping like flies on my shift.”
• Marcy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Miss J. She literally collapsed.”
• Miss Jenkins didn’t budge. “Life doesn’t care how tired you are. You still gotta show up.” She shot me a look. “Hope you’re feeling better. Because you’re working a double shift tomorrow.”
• And just like that, she walked out.
• I let out a slow breath. Of course. Of course, she would find a way to punish me for passing out.
• Marcy handed me a bottle of water. “Drink. You look like crap.”
• I took it, forcing a small smile. “Thanks.”
• But as I sipped, a small thought nagged at the back of my mind.
• The door creaked open.
• A doctor in a white coat stepped in, flipping through a file. He barely glanced at me before speaking.
• “Well, Miss Serena…” He paused, tapping the paper. “You’re pregnant.”
• Silence.
• I blinked. “I’m what?”
• “Pregnant,” he repeated matter-of-factly, as if he had just told me the weather.
• My breath hitched and my ears rang.
• “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “That’s not po—”
• I snatched the paper from his hands, my fingers trembling.
• Scanning the words, I searched for a mistake. This couldn’t be real. I was infertile. A doctor had said so months ago. I had seen the reports.
• “This is wrong,” I muttered, flipping the page over like the truth was hidden somewhere else. “It has to be wrong.”
• The doctor sighed, clearly unfazed. He flipped through the file again and looked at me.
• “You’re about seven days along,” he said, leaning against the desk. “The baby is in perfect health, but you need to start taking better care of yourself.”
• I still couldn’t breathe. Seven days? That lined up exactly with that night. The night I thought I’d forget. The night I thought wouldn’t matter because—
• “I was told I couldn’t have kids,” I blurted out, my voice barely above a whisper.
• The doctor gave me a patient, knowing look. “Well, Miss Serena, sometimes the body surprises us.”
• My fingers curled around the paper, my mind spinning. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
• “Here.” He handed me a form and a pen. “Sign this, and you’re good to go.”
• My hand trembled as I scribbled my name.
• “Take care of yourself,” he said, standing up. “No stress, eat well, and get enough rest. Congratulations.”
• Congratulations?
• I staggered out of the clinic, my heart pounding against my ribs.
• And then, like clockwork—
• “You’re late again,” Miss Jenkins’ voice snapped me back to reality before I even reached the hotel entrance.
• I barely had time to react before she crossed her arms, eyes narrowing.
• “Was it the train this time?” she huffed. “Or did you just decide my business hours don’t matter because of your stay at the clinic?”
• I gripped the test results in my hand, my throat tightening.
• She scoffed. “I’m deducting this from your pay.”
• Of course she was.
• I swallowed hard, my gaze flickering down to my stomach.
• How on earth can my baby daddy be a damn gigolo?