Leah is wearing a newsboy cap. Dear God, people. Can't we let them go? She says sadly that she misses New York. "She's been like this all day," Drew mutters. Nick figures that Leah sounds like she wants to move back there, and the way he says it comes off like he thinks she's been at the crazy pills again and is about two inches away from saying something even more irretrievably ridiculous, like "You know, Nick, you didn't have to get married to get laid." This conversation has taken an ugly turn for Jessica, who manages to suss out that she's not at the center of discussion and promptly swings it back in her direction. She wants to know if Nick's tagging along at her photo shoot, and she then explains for the gazillionth time that her new perfume line is coming out, and that it's all edible product. Perfect, y'all! It's, like, all the taste, but, like, none of the fat! I can just see her squirting the body mousse into her mouth and pouring the lip gloss on top of her fat-free frozen yogurt. There's a close-up of a brandy snifter as Nick clears his throat and intones to Jessica that his mother called, and informed him that In Touch magazine asked her if Jessica is pregnant. Jessica stares at him. "It caught me off-guard," he says, almost wounded. He looks like he is a shade away from demanding why she hasn't told him about their forthcoming bundle of bliss, so christened for its inevitable ignorance. "That's sure crazy," Jessica drawls. Nick says it would be exciting. Jessica stammers, "I'm with you on that. Not yet. I mean, it will be exciting, but don't you think we have to get a dog first?" Everyone giggles, which is clearly why Jessica then went and repeated that as her statement to every single media outlet that asked. We hit the commercial break all too aware that Nick is clearly aching to experience sex without a condom, but will be relegated to whatever alone time in the shower he can muster because he has a better chance of enrolling her at Oxford than getting her to let him hose down her womb with man juice.
Central Park. Jessica explains for us that she's going to a photo shoot for her new line of products. Really? That's odd. I thought she was reporting for work at C-Span today. "It's called Dessert," she says. "We're all going to be sugared out." Then she moans about the weather. "This is why we live in L.A.," she pouts. Nick scoffs that their room was so overheated last night that they slept with an open window. "Your wife is pregnant. She's kicking out some extra heat," jokes someone who I assume is her stylist or personal assistant, and who seems to be named Brad. Nick smiles happily and coos, "In that case, I would gladly sweat." Is he for real? He wants to spawn more of her kind? It's moments like this that remind you Nick really isn't bright at all, and that he only seems smart in isolated moments when compared to his walking Slurpee of a wife. Someone teasingly congratulates Jessica, and she wonders how the rumors got started. Brad gossips that an item in a local rag said she has to do the shoot right away because she is pregnant. To diffuse the situation, Nick cracks that the next story will be that it's all a hoax to cover up that he shoots blanks. Everyone laughs but Jessica, who whines, "That's horrible!" Oh, like you're going to use those, Jessica. Go sniff some glue.