You sit down on the couch and throw a menacing glance at the bitch on the couch.
"In private" you emphasize with a harsh overtone.
"Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Emma" he states proudly. You fight the urge to pick up one of the throw pillow as beat her with it until she chokes on feathers.
You feel the color racing to your cheeks. You're beginning to feel like you are in an arguement in grade school. You take a deep breath to regain your composure. Two can play at this game. He wants me to air all our dirty laundry? Well fine then! He better grab some Febreze because this shit stinks.
"Fine!" you state with all the articulate skill of a preteen.
"I'm pregnant!" you blurt out. Making the statement sound more like an accusation than a declaration.
The color immediately drains from Ristain's face. You pause for a moment, sure that he is going to pass out. He slumps onto the chair closest to the door and puts his finger to his lip in an expression of quiet contemplation and abject fear. A few moments pass and your attention is drawn to the sound of sobbing coming from the brown haired harlot. You turn your head in anticipation of a weeping girlfriend and instead find that she has tears streaming down her cheeks and a huge smile plastered across her striking face. Her eyes are sparkling with tears and her cheeks have blushed to a beautiful rose color. Jesus she even looks good crying. Your confusion at her reaction furrows your brow as you watch the bizzaar display.