My student is pregnant with my
husband’s child
Chapter One
My student, Brittany, was seriously strapped
for cash.
Her mom had some gnarly kidney disease,
and I felt bad.
So, being the bleeding heart that I am, I
loaned her a chunk of money.
She swore she’d pay me back after
graduation.
Yeah, right.
Instead, she struts up to me on graduation
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“Your money’s basically your husband’s,
right? Well, guess what? I’m carrying his heir!
So, I think we’re even. You should probably
start packing, honey.”
I just stood there, blinking.
My husband, Tom, has been dead for seven
years.
Then I saw Brittany making out with my
freakin‘ gardener.
Suddenly, Brittany’s “heir” made a whole lot
more sense.
…
Graduation day.
Г
I was there to cheer on my students and, you
know, casually remind Brittany about the ten
grand she owed me for, like, everything.
Before I could even say hello, she gives me
this look like I’m something she scraped off
her shoe.
“Jessica, go fetch your car and drive me
home.”
I stared.
“Excuse me?”
Brittany lets out this little laugh, pulls out the
ultrasound, and shoves it in my face.
I grabbed the picture, seeing “early
“” plastered on the ten of the page
<
pregnancy” plastered on the top of the page,
dating back to 10 weeks.
I rolled my eyes.
What is with these college kids these days?
They get knocked up, and suddenly their
teachers are their personal chauffeurs?
And don’t forget the attitude.
“Brittany, honey, what does your pregnancy
have to do with me? Why would I drive you
home?”
Her little sidekick, Ashley, jumps in, all
righteous indignation.
“Wow, Jessica, that is cold. Brittany’s
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pregnant and can barely move! And it’s not
like we want you to drive us. The only reason
we’re asking is because your car is so fancy,
comfy, and, most importantly, safe!”
“Are you both on crack? I don’t see why my
car is any of your business, much less have
you asking for favors!”
I was seriously reaching my limit.
I turned to leave, but Brittany blocked my
way, arms crossed like she owned the place.
“Oh, you’re not just driving me home today,
Jessica. You’re driving me home every day.
And you’re packing my lunches, making my
dinners, and catering to me and my little
bundle of joy.
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“You’ll listen to everything I tell you to do.
And if I’m even slightly uncomfortable, you’ll
regret it.‘
I took a deep breath and reached out to feel
her forehead.
Nope, no fever.
