Page 100 of The Pucking Date
“You look like you went to war,” she says gently.
“I did.” I wrestle out of my blazer, the silk blouseunderneath clinging to my skin in a tragic homage to sweat and stress.
She gestures to the cushion beside her. “Tea’s still hot. You need something soothing and non-lethal.”
I drop onto the couch and reach for the mug with both hands. It’s warm. The scent is soft and floral. Chamomile. It’s the first thing today that hasn’t made my chest ache.
“Did you tell him?” Sophie speaks carefully, her tone that usually comes right before something messy.
“‘That isn’t exactly what happened. But he knows.”
She doesn’t press. Just waits, calm, clinical, gently terrifying. It’s both reassuring and wildly annoying. But she’s the only person who feels safe right now, so I take the bait.
“I was about to tell him everything. The moment was perfect, he’d just fucked me senseless, we were still half-asleep, and he’d forgotten the condom. He asked if I was on anything.”
I take a long sip of tea. “I had the words. They were right there. Hovering. And then my phone buzzed. Again. And I picked it up. It was Joy telling me Under Armour signed. The Defenders matched.”
I glance down at the mug. Steam curls around my face like it’s trying to comfort me. Spoiler: it fails.
Sophie doesn’t blink. Just sips her tea.
“And when I finally get off the phone and turn around, he’s holding my prenatal vitamin. They must have slipped out of my bag while I was fishing for my phone. Jaw clenched, eyes flat and furious, nothing soft left in them,” I grind out. “One second, I’m flying high—he stays in New York, we’ll figure this out together. The next, he’s holding that bottle like I’ve ripped his spine out.”
My throat closes. I swallow hard.
“He didn’t yell. He didn’t even move. He just stood there,asking me if I was ever going to say anything. If I was just waiting to see which jersey he picked before I decided whether he was worth it.”
Sophie’s face sharpens—brows pinched, lips tight—but she doesn’t interrupt.
“I told him I didn’t want to be the reason he stayed. That I wasn’t trying to hijack his career or back him into a corner.” I let out a laugh, tight and bitter. “And I actually thought I was being generous. Mature. Protecting him from making a decision he’d resent later.” I pause because the truth is heavier now that I’ve said it out loud. “I was afraid he’d choose me and regret it. So I took his agency.”
My chest tightens.
“He came out of the gate campaigning to be my guy and never let up. Not subtle about it, either, a blind person could’ve seen it. Hell,everyonesaw it. You told me. Joy told me. Dad warned me multiple times. Jenna practically screamed it into a pillow.” I shake my head, stunned by my own stubbornness. “But I never let myself believe it. That someone like him could actually want me.”
“Especially not after Chad,” Sophie murmurs.
My throat tightens. “Yeah, Chad was a disaster. But Finn always showed up. Again and again. And I just kept bailing on him. Kept rewriting the story in my head to make it mean less, because the alternative was scarier. The alternative meant I had to believe I was worth that kind of love.”
The next words drag out of me. “That’s on me, not him. Because here’s the thing, I’ve spent my whole life proving I’m good enough. Good enough daughter. Good enough professional. Good enough to earn love. But Finn never asked me to prove anything. He just wanted me. And I couldn’t believe it was that simple. Because believing it meant I could lose it. And I was right. If I don’t think I’mlovable, if I don’t even like myself half the time, how can I expect him to get it right?”
I sink deeper into the couch. Sophie sets her mug down and leans in, arms wrapping around me in a tight, silent hug. No,It’s okay. No,He’ll come around. Just her, steadying me while everything inside trembles.
Eventually, we separate. I exhale shakily.
“I spent the whole day pretending to be fine. I kept my smile stapled on while taking legal calls. I locked myself in the bathroom stall and dry-heaved while someone in Accounting complained about the coffee machine. I reapplied concealer over tear tracks three different times and powered through.”
She leans in slightly. “Jesus, Jess?—”
“I had to.” The words snap out. “No one knows. And if they did, it’d be hormones. I’ve built my whole career on never cracking.”
The exhaustion hits like a wave. “He texted three times today. Each one perfectly polite. Perfectly distant.Hope you’re feeling okay.Let me know if you need anything.When is your next doctor appointment?”I murmur, almost inaudible, air quoting.“NoRed. No teasing or flirting. Like I’m a responsibility he’s managing instead of the woman he was inside of this morning.”
Sophie takes my hand, grounding me again. “Rest,” she says. “Let yourself fall apart for a minute. Then, when you’re ready, figure out what comes next.”
My chest caves in first, like something vital has been scooped out. Then the tears hit fast. No warning, no buildup. Just a full-system collapse.
One second I’m upright, sipping tea. The next, I’m folded into the couch, shoulders shaking, breath coming inwet, uneven bursts. My hands cover my face, and for the first time all day, I stop pretending.
