Page 52 of The Pucking Date
Sophie smirks. “That plan seems to be going great.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious! You’ve been a walking complication since you got back from Shanghai.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She nudges my leg. “You know I love you. But babe, you’ve been dodging Finn like he’s made of landmines and unresolved feelings. And now…boom. Baby.”
“I know.”
“So again, what’s the plan?”
I drag a throw pillow over my face. “I don’t know! I don’thaveone. I haven’t thought this far ahead. I didn’t expect to be pregnant! I’ve been on birth control since I was eighteen!”
“Yeah, but you also had very loud, verymemorablesex with a six-foot-two Irish god.”
I groan. “Not helping.”
“Just saying. The man is potent. That jawline alone could knock someone up.”
I peek at her. “Are you…joking right now?”
“Would you rather I panic?”
“Yes! A little! This is huge, Soph. This changes my whole life.”
She tilts her head. “Okay, true. But also, it doesn’t have to change who you are. You’re still Jessica Novak. You’re still a PR shark. You’re still scary good at your job and terrifying in heels.”
My throat tightens. “I can’t do this, Sophie. I can barely handle my life as it is, and now I’m supposed to figure out how to be someone’s mother? How to tell Finn he’s going to be a father? How to explain to Dad that his carefully protected daughter went and got herself knocked up by the exact kind of player he warned me about?”
“You can,” she says, instantly fierce. “And you don’t have to do it alone.”
I blink fast. My throat’s starting to burn.
“I was going to go to Park City and get these guys sponsor deals,” I whisper. “Control the narrative. Bat off that sleazy ex of mine who’s trying to tank Finn.”
Sophie softens. “You are still the same person. You will still go and do all those things. If that’s what you want.”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know what I want.”
“Then let’s figure it out.”
Sophie watches me as I sit up slowly, arms wrappedaround my knees. Then she quietly adds, “Do you think he’ll be…happy?”
I open my mouth. Then close it again.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Finn’s…complicated. He’s all charm and chaos and jokes, but under that, there’s an ache. Like he’s waiting for something, but he doesn’t know what.”
“Maybe it’s this,” Sophie murmurs, pulling me into a hug that smells like safety and certainty—two things I desperately need right now. “Maybe this baby is exactly what he’s been waiting for, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
12
CHECK IN AND CHECKMATE
FINN
The plane hums beneath us, four hours into a westbound flight that’s supposed to feel routine.
