Page 50 of The Pucking Date
“Oh.” Her voice comes out small, uncertain. “Is that...?”
I nod, watching her process what she’s seeing.
Her mouth opens, then closes. Then she says, very calmly, “You peed on that.”
“Wow. We’re starting there?”
She holds up both hands in surrender. “I’m saying. You waved it around like it’s Excalibur or something.”
I glance at the plastic stick, then back at her. “Well, it did just slay my entire life plan, so the comparison’s not totally off.”
Sophie gives me a look that could cut glass. “You’re holding your own urine, Jess.”
Chucking the test onto the coffee table, I groan and collapse onto the couch like my uterus betrayed me personally. Which, frankly, it did.
My sister perches on the edge of the ottoman. “So. You’re…pregnant.”
“Apparently,” I mutter, staring at the ceiling, hoping it might spell out a game plan.
She blinks. Hard. “Wait—how? Did you hook up with someone in Shanghai?”
I throw her a look. “Seriously? Wow. Rude.”
“Well, you were halfway around the world and totally off the grid! I thought maybe there was a sexy dumpling chef or a hot Mandarin tutor with really strong forearms?—”
“No dumpling chef,” I cut in. “And no steamy classroom fling. It wasn’t in Shanghai.”
She narrows her eyes. “Then who?”
I hesitate. Long enough for the silence to turn sharp.
Her head jerks back slightly. “No.”
Still no reaction from me.
“Jess,” she gasps. “No.”
“…Yes.”
Her jaw hits the floor. “Oh my God.O’Reilly? Youfinallylet him climb Mount Novak?”
I groan. “Sophie?—”
“Don’t you ‘Sophie’ me. That man has been mentally undressing you since last year, and now he’s gotten all the way to the finale? I need details.”
I grab the nearest throw pillow and chuck it at her head.
She ducks, giggling. “So? Was it everything I’ve been rooting for? Did he ruin you? Did he do that smirky thing while?—”
“Sophie.Focus.”
She sobers instantly, blinking like she’s resurfacing. “Right. Sorry. Hormones. Shock. The combination is…potent.” A pause. Then, softer: “Are you okay?”
My throat tightens. “I don’t know.”
She stares. Then lets out a strangled sound. “When did you manage to escape the Novak Surveillance State?”
“Montreal. That night after the charity game. Don’t look at me like that!”
