Page 136 of Falling for Mr. October

I can’t speak. I just show her my phone, knowing what she’s reading, wondering if she’ll believe it. Thinking maybe I was right from the beginning, and I don’t much like being the Shirtless Chef now that everyone knows my name and how to contact me.

The message is from the reporter at It’s Not Gossip.

Giovanni, there have been some exciting developments in your story. I realize some of them may be upsetting to you, particularly since one of the interview subjects said she’s had a hard time connecting with you, and if you’d like to comment, then of course you may do so. The article is attached here.

The title of the article is:

“I’m Carrying the Shirtless Chef’s Love Child.”

Beneath it, there’s a photograph of Janine with her hand cupped around her flat stomach.

I expect Bianca to push away from me. Maybe she should.

I’m bringing her family the kind of attention no one wants.

Bianca’s fingers curl around the phone, and her mouth settles into a thin line. It’s an expression I’m familiar with, both from recent memory and from when we were children after she found out Miles and I had done something stupid. Again.

“It can’t be mine,” I object. “I⁠—”

“You can’t talk unless you have the Dong of Discussion,” Luanne says in a singsong.

Then the book club passes the totem along, with—no joke—the dong still vibrating.

I take it, because I don’t know what the hell else to do, and hold it vibrating in my hand, my gaze on Bianca, silently entreating her to say something.

Hopefully not Fuck you, you’re not worth it.

“I swear upon my nonno’s grave,” I say, knowing she’ll understand how sacred that is for me, “I haven’t touched her for over a year.”

“Well, of course I know it’s not your baby,” she responds, and the wild feeling inside of me settles.

Maybe the whole world will think I’m the asshole who impregnated his married ex-girlfriend once this news gets out, but she’ll know the truth. That’s what matters.

“I don’t remember a baby in the book,” someone says. “Did someone have a baby?”

“Who’s having a baby?” Luanne asks.

Bianca takes the Dong of Discussion from me as she releases her grip on my phone, which tumbles to the floor onto its back like a murdered bug, the headline practically screaming from the screen.

Miles is the first to react, rushing over to snatch it off the floor. Given no one else seems fussed, I can only assume there are a bunch of book club members who need glasses and aren’t wearing them.

Holding my gaze and the vibrating pleasure stick, Bianca says, “Can we tell them what’s happened?”

Miles looks at me in alarm but gives the phone back and resumes his seat.

“Everyone?” I ask Bianca, surprised. Then again, everyone’s going to know soon enough. I suppose we might as well inform this roomful of my self-professed biggest fans.

“There’s over a thousand years of wisdom represented in this room,” Bianca says. “Someone’s got to know what to do.”

“You’re supposed to stick to the book,” one of the book club members says officiously. “And there’s no wisdom in this book. It was all smut.”

“There was barely any smut,” Helen says dismissively. “I’d say two chili peppers at most. It was a tame, sweet read.”

“They’re trying to tell you something important,” Miles interjects. “For some reason. Are you sure you want to tell everyone here?”

It’s obvious he thinks it’s a bad idea, but I trust Bianca. I’d let her shout my business from the rooftop if it made her feel better. “It’s Bianca’s decision.”

“It’s our decision,” she amends, waving the vibrating Dong of Discussion at me.