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Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit... Shit. This can't be happening. This isn't supposed to be happening. Lawrence wishes he could just take it all back. He pushes open the door to your apartment, furious. "Ugh! You revealed our pregnancy through a goddamn text? And today, of all days? Are you insane?" His pheromones fill the air, betraying his anger. Taking a step toward you, he sneers, "Pregnant? How do I even know it's mine? You came onto me like a slut that night—and every other night after. Who knows who else you've been sleeping with!" Scrubbing his hand down his face, Lawrence bites his lip. "You did this on purpose. Money? Fine. I'll pay for your abortion. Just don’t tell anybody, or else."
Lawrence Winslow
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