Page 66 of Jett

“Keep your voice down,” I hiss. “I can’t believe she told you.”

“She was pretty drunk when I picked her up last night.”

“Yeah, well, lucky for her. I’d like to be pretty drunk for the next six months.”

“Uh, uh, uh. My godchild better be fucking perfect. I’m not gonna let you screw him up before he’s even born.”

“Godchild?”

“Naturally. Uncle Kick is great with kids.”

“Uncle Kick sounds like he needs to shut up before I punch him in the nose.”

“Point taken.”

I huff out another huge breath. “The boss in?”

“You see his bike in the lot?”

“Yep.”

“Then there’s your answer. Quit stalling and go tell him already so we can celebrate, mama.”

“Do me a favour? Don’t say anything to the others. I’m not sure how he’s going to take it.”

“What are you fuckin’ talkin’ about? He’s gonna be overjoyed.”

“Yeah, okay, captain positive. Have you talked to your girl about babies lately, because she doesn’t seem quite so keen on the idea? I think it’s a big part of the reason why she got so hammered last night.”

“Whatever. She’s gonna have a whole bunch of rug-rats to look after. I mean, they’ll be mine. Why the fuck wouldn’t she love that?”

“Beats me.” With a glance over his shoulder at a stony-faced Grim, I march away, down the long hall to Jett’s office. I’ve walked this hallway so many times, worried about my job, worried he’d fire me because I behaved like some stupid lovesick puppy by bringing him his coffee and a muffin every day. Perhaps I should have bought him a bun today and broke the news that way?Surprise, no muffin for you—just a bun in my oven because you failed to remember the fucking condom.

Anger flashes through me as I approach his door, but the second I open it and see those bright blue eyes and that crooked grin, all the anger drains from me. This isn’t his fault or my fault—we’re both to blame.

“What brings you to my office, darlin’? Come to beg me to make love to you and then yell at me some more?”

I frown and push aside my annoyance as I close the door. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“I took like twenty tests and my doctor confirmed it this morning. I mean, I still have to wait for the bloods to come back, but I’m pretty sure the pressure on my bladder, the all-day nausea, and the sore boobs are concrete evidence.”

His mouth gapes like a fish without water.

“And so help me God,” I continue, “if you ask me if this child is yours, I swear, Jett, I will strangle you.”

He stares blankly at me, and then at the floor, and then at his hands as he cups them over his face.

“Will you say something, please?”

“You’re pregnant. With my baby?”

I roll my eyes. “Didn’t we just go over this?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No wonder you’re so fuckin’ crabby.”

“I am not crabby. I am tired. I am hormonal. I am scared, and I’m growing a life inside me.”

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