Fake Fiancé? Check.
Fake Baby? Double Check.
Positive Pregnancy Test? Oops.
I’m the girl who’s always had a plan.
Graduate top of my class: done.
Get into my desired Ph.D. program: done and as the youngest ever in my field of study.
Establish myself in my father’s empire: well, that’s where the shit hit the fan.
Despite my accomplishments, all my family seems to care about?
The lack of a diamond on my ring finger.
My dad won’t even consider voting to approve my business proposition until I’ve got a man on my arm.
And my mom won’t quit with her endless string of awful blind dates till I’ve got babies on the brain.
So I panicked—and told my family a teensy little white lie.
Brett, my drop-dead-delicious fling was actually my fiancé and we were expecting a little bundle of made up joy.
Okay, it was more like a massive lie that has since snowballed into a full-blown, five-alarm avalanche that’s on a never-ending path of destruction.
New plan: try to convince myself I’m not head over heels in love with Brett and that I can raise this very real baby on my own.
How it’s going: about as successful as picking up glitter from shag carpet.
For the girl who always has the perfect plan—I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.