Must be convenient for ditching the casual hook-ups.

Just like he ditched me.

Asshole.

Do you have any idea how aggravating it is to be unable to reach someone? It's the twenty-first century. I know who he is, where he works and the city he lives in, yet I can't reach him. It's infuriating. It's ten times worse than when a friend accidentally puts their phone on silent and you're forced to wait hours for them to realize and notice your text messages.

I tried calling the corporate office—that got me nowhere. Which should come as a shock to no one, but you can't just call a major corporation and ask to speak to the guy in charge. Hell, you can't even call a small company and ask to speak to, well, anyone. I thought about using the 'contact us' box on the store website because none of the other categories applied to me. No, I don't have a problem with an order. No, I don't have a question about a warranty. And no, I don't need help processing a return.

Oddly, ‘your CEO knocked me up’ was not an option on the website. After ten minutes of frustration I exited the contact us screen and placed an order for pre-natal vitamins instead. And a tote bag made out of recycled water bottles. I wanted to hold a grudge but they really do have great prices.

It's time for Plan B.

3

Daisy

Remember that movie about the two guys who crashed weddings in order to pick up women without having to pay for drinks or dinner?

This isn't that.

This is a pregnant girl crashing a retirement gala so she can get a moment to notify her baby daddy.

I wouldn't normally stoop to such a level, crashing a retirement party of all things, but I'm desperate. Besides, it's not like I'm staying for dinner. I'm just gonna slip in and out. No one but Kyle will even know I was there. I probably won't even have an appetizer, unless a waiter walks past with a tray of pickles or something and I can't resist. Just kidding, I don't have a cliché pregnancy pickle craving. It's more of a cliché craving for everything that isn't a pickle.

Anyway, that's my plan.

If he's there.

I think the chances are good that he'll be there because his grandfather is the guest of honor at this shindig and my internet sleuthing tells me that Kyle just took over as CEO of the family company.

Family company as in KINGS, the largest retail chain in America.

Recently promoted, as in the week after he knocked me up.

His promotion to head of the company is the only reason I know who he is and where to find him. I got his name that weekend, but it didn't mean anything to me. Why would it? He was just a guy I'd met while passing through Philly, and his last name was Kingston, while the retail chain was called KINGS.

When I realized I was pregnant I Googled him, hoping it'd lead me to a Facebook profile with his picture so I could send a quick message and be done with it. Done with him. Instead the first search result was a story in the New York Times accompanied by the KINGS logo and a professional business photo of Kyle. The accompanying article announced the retirement of Kyle's grandfather, company founder William Kingston, and named Kyle as the new CEO of Kingston Enterprises.

Kingston Enterprises, which owns all six thousand KINGS locations in the United States. Locations ranging in size from corner convenience marts to supercenters and warehouse clubs. The penny finally dropped and I understood two things. Firstly, Kyle Kingston was the heir to a retail empire bearing his name. And secondly, he was going to be impossible to get hold of.

Then in a stroke of good luck or serendipity or cosmic intervention, I was invited to a conference taking place next week in Philadelphia. I figured two birds, one stone. Am I right? I could attend the conference and while I was in town, find Kyle. So I poked around the internet a bit, figuring maybe I'd get a second stroke of luck and find a home address for him. Camp out on his doorstep until he showed up, whatever it took. I know stalking isn't nice, but desperate times, desperate measures.

Besides which, who hasn't stalked? Everyone does it in one form or another. Looked through their boyfriend’s stuff. Listened in on a stranger’s conversation in public. And everyone with access to the internet has looked up something that's none of their business a time or five hundred. Totally normal.

So I looked. And looked and looked. Turns out my stalking skills are shit because I couldn't find anything on him other than the mention of a sister named Kerrigan. Matching K names are the only thing they have in common with the Kardashians because the Kingstons keep their lives private. I couldn't find a single social media account for the sister either. I'd been hoping to reverse-stalk him through her, but no such luck. Their parents are deceased, having passed away in a plane crash five years ago. There were a few old articles about that, but otherwise not much to go on. Until I ran across a mention of a retirement gala for William Kingston. Kyle was bound to be there, right? How could he not be, when he'd just taken over as head of the company his grandfather founded and was retiring from? Crashing this party was my best shot at speaking to him in person.

I'll admit flying to another state for the purpose of crashing an event in order to speak to someone is a bit creepy, and possibly a federal offense. That's how federal offenses work, right? Once you cross state lines to commit a crime it becomes a federal crime? Never mind, it doesn't matter. The hormones are making me dramatic. I'm not committing a crime, I'm simply exhausting every possible option in order to let Kyle know he accidentally left his sperm behind during our weekend tryst.

Fine. I'm clearly not quite over that, but I'm adjusting, I swear I am.

Besides, I've got the conference to attend so it's not like I've flown to Philly only to stalk someone. I've been wanting to attend this particular conference for a couple of years but have never managed to make it work with my schedule. Then two weeks ago they contacted me with an invitation to present at the conference, which is a huge deal. They're comping my room and the conference fees, plus it's a great opportunity for me to network.

So I pawned off my day job on my twin sister and headed to Philadelphia a few days early, intent on finding Kyle and getting that bit of unpleasantness over with.

I try not to groan as I make my way through the airport in Philadelphia. I've just gotten off a flight from Chicago and I'm jittery like a toddler on a sugar high because I've been cooped up and I'm nervous. This is it. The gala is tonight and if I can't locate Kyle then I'm out of ideas for getting in contact with him directly. The only option I'll have left will be to hire a lawyer to have him served with paperwork. I guess? Is that even possible? I don't want anything from him so maybe I can't hire a lawyer to be my personal message courier. I don't want his time and I don't expect him to help me change diapers. I just want to do the right thing by telling him and then move on. Maybe get his phone number in case this baby wants to call his or her father someday.

Why is doing the right thing so complicated? It's unfair really, on so many levels. But I'll do anything to keep this civilized, for the baby. Someday I'll need to be able to spin a suitable fairy-lie about where he or she came from. I've already decided on something like "we weren't a good fit for each other, but we got you and that's all that matters."