Daddy's Baby

The first rule of being a "working girl" was don't fall in love. The second rule was don’t get pregnant.

They say life moves pretty fast when you’re having fun, but no one told me life moves even faster when you’re fresh out of a crappy relationship with a bankruptcy looming over your head.

At 25 years old I had everything I wanted until the floor gave out leaving me with zilch to my name and a tender bruised ego.

I needed to get back on my feet, and the opportunity presented itself when a 5’7 blond haired woman walked into my failing cupcake shop. She oozed success and I wanted it. I needed it.

I’ve always been a simple girl, with a simple life so when she told me the crispy Benjamins in her wallet came from her escorting gig I nearly choked, but in all honesty, I needed the gig. Bad.

She assured me the agency was upscale and the clients creme de la creme. I only had to remember two simple rules. Don’t fall in love and don’t get pregnant.

Guess I didn’t get the memo.

Carrying his baby should have been the happiest time in my life. Except I've kept this secret for seven months.

It was time to let him know, except there was one problem. I had no idea how to find him.