Cinderella Man

Aubrey was definitely not in her comfort zone. In fact, she was far from it. Kids were never her strong point. It’s not that she hated kids; she just never knew what to say to them. She had come to grips with the fact that children would never like her – and Marshall’s daughters would be no exception.

Marshall had insisted that she come over for dinner, stating that they needed to discuss matters about their unborn child. Aubrey reluctantly agreed. She knew his daughters would be there, but she agreed to come nonetheless.

She sat in the cozy living room, occupying almost half of the comfortable loveseat. Not only was she eating for two, but she was taking up room for two as well.

Marshall left her to grab a water bottle from the kitchen, in the process running into his chef. He quickly told him to whip up something, eager to get back to Aubrey. He feared that if he left her alone for too long she would run away…again.

To his relief, he found the dark-haired beauty sitting on the cream-colored couch. “Here,” he held out the ice cold water bottle. She gladly took it, sipping on the cool liquid as her eyes studied him.

Marshall walked around the coffee table, taking his seat on a matching sofa. He didn’t know where to start the conversation, so he began at the first thing that worried him – the location of her so called home. He remembered from her application that she lived just outside the worst part of Detroit. “I have a few spare rooms,” he began, “I can arrange to have all your belongings moved here by tomorrow morni-“

“And what makes you think I want to live here?” she shot back, glaring. The last thing she wanted to do was to live with the man who got her into this mess in the first place.

“Cuz you sure as hell ain’t living in the gang infested hood with my child,” he replied cooly.

She shifted in her seat, “Well sorry we can’t all afford the luxury of a picket-fence neighborhood.”

“I’m offering you that neighborhood,” he smirked.

“Under the same roof as you? Hell no.” Her eyes wandered to the floor. Working with Marshall for eight hours a day was hell, living with him twenty-four seven would be unfathomable hell. “Since you can afford so much, why not just rent me an apartment around here.”

Marshall’s smirk never fell. “Sorry, toots, recession and all. This is all I can afford,” he gestured to the room around them, as if to say that a multi-million dollar mansion is not a lot.

This recession was really kicking Aubrey’s ass. Come to think of it, it was because of this recession that all this happened – Marshall, getting knocked up, excreta.

She decided she would have to write the former president of the United States a letter. She would tell him that he ruined her life, he forced her to get a job for Eminem, which in turn got her pregnant. If he had never fucked this country to hell, she would still be living off her parents money in the comfort of her dorm room – oh, and she would be a whole thirty pounds lighter.

“Aubrey?”

Aubrey snapped out of her mini, internal rant. “Hmm?”

“When is your due date?” He wanted to make sure that his promotions and appearances would not coincide with the birth of his child. If they did, he would cancel them.

Inside, Marshall could still not grasp the fact that she had kept the child. He was happy beyond words, don’t get him wrong, but it still wasn’t registering.

“January twenty-third,” she replied. Today was October 30th. She had roughly twelve weeks left.

He nodded, rummaging through his brain for any appearances he had in January. “Aite… what is it? The sex?”

Before Aubrey could answer his question, a sudden outburst of giggles and screams echoed through the halls. The girls were home.

Marshall shot Aubrey a reassuring smile before getting up to greet his daughters. One by one, the girls came into view. They ran from the hall into the living room, ending up in the warm embrace of their father. “Hey girls,” Marshall kissed each girl on the top of their heads. “Did you have fun at the park?”

As each of the girls proceeded to tell Marshall of the fun they had, Aubrey couldn’t help but smile. He was so… natural at being a father. You would never think that the same man from the raps you heard was capable of being such an amazing father. She watched him as he intently listened on their stories, giving them his undivided attention.

Aubrey’s smile slowly fell. He was comfortable at being a father…to his daughters. How would he react to a son? Would he be comfortable? Nervous? Excited?

“Girls, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Aubrey,” Marshall motioned to the woman that sat on the couch. Aubrey shot them a smile, adding a quick “hey.”

Hailie was the first to speak up, “Is this the woman you kept talking about? The one that-“ Marshall cut the little girl off by placing a hand over her mouth.
“Yeah, that’s her.”

Hailie giggled, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Alaina nudged Hailie, her eyes warning Hailie to be quiet. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Aubrey hesitantly nodded, “I am.”

“Good,” Alaina smiled, “Cuz we have a lot of questions for you if you’re going to be with our dad.”

“Excuse me?” Aubrey raised an eyebrow at the girls. What exactly had Marshall told the girls?

Marshall quickly ushered out the teenagers into the kitchen, telling them that the chef needed some help or something along those lines. When he came back, he was quickly met with Aubrey’s glare.

“I’m flattered that I’m the subject of discussion around here,” she stated bluntly.

“Oh that? The girls tend to talk a lot ‘round strangers. Don’t listen to anything they say.” Aubrey thought she had caught a slight glimpse of what appear to be a blush on the outspoken rapper’s face, but it disappeared in a heartbeat. “C’mon,” he extended his hand to help Aubrey up, “let’s go eat.”

Was she that huge that the sight of her triggered people to feel like they needed to help her? Whatever the case, Aubrey took his hand with gratitude. She needed all the help she could get. Speaking of help…

“You think you could dip into your rainy day fund to pay for liposuction after he’s out of me?” Aubrey’s tone was dead serious. It may be a recession, but she knew he must have a fund somewhere. Besides, this was all his fault.

“Lipo?” he chuckled. “I’m broke. I think you gonna have to lose it the old-fashioned way: work out.” Marshall led her towards the kitchen, keeping a hand on the lower part of her back. Before the entered the room, he grasped her hand and pulled her back. “Did you say ‘he’?” It took a while to hit him, but he was pretty sure she said he.

She meekly nodded, her eyes scanning everything but his reaction. She felt his hand on her back again and the other under her chin, lifting her face up to meet his. He inched closer to her, as if to kiss her, “I have to tell you something.”