Me bringing one home? Well, that’s a first. But this girl . . . She’s in trouble. And this asshole is not a guy she wants to go home with. So I do the exact thing I shouldn’t—I offer to bring her home with me instead. She says this is the first time she’s ever done this, which is adorably ironic. Then proceeds to tell me a sob story about needing money to care for the baby who was left on her doorstep. That’s when my stomach starts to clench. I think she might be telling the truth. So I do what any respectable man would do—I take her home, stopping to pick up diapers and formula on the way—and discover that she was telling the truth all along. Christ on a cracker. I should have just kept walking. I should have done a thousand other things except for barge into her sad life, offer to fix everything, fall for her . . .
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