Paxton props her feet onto the coffee table and flips her long black hair over her shoulder, dark eyes alight with excitement. “How was the weekend? How were things with Hottie McDaddy?”

That nickname has new meaning now. I set my plate onto the coffee table. The good thing about Franco’s is that it’s even better the next day, so if I can’t eat it now, I can definitely enjoy it later. “I have to tell you something.”

“Oh man, does this mean you slept with him again? And if you did, it’s totally okay, because from the pictures alone he looks like he’s hard to resist.” She takes a sip of her wine, and I wait until she sets her wine glass back onto the table before I answer. My couch is grey and wine stains suck.

“I’m pregnant.”

Paxton’s expression remains blank for a few seconds before she throws her head back and laughs. “Oh my God, you had me there for a second.” She slaps her thigh and her fork flips off her plate and lands on the area rug. Thankfully, it’s dark blue.

When I don’t start laughing, too, she sobers quickly. Her plate joins mine on the coffee table. “Wait, are you serious? How? I mean, I thought you were menopausal?”

“I am. I was. Apparently, you can still get pregnant, even when you’re perimenopausal.”

“Holy . . . wow.” Her hand comes up to cover her mouth. “When did you find out? How did you find out?”

I explain what happened, and how exactly I came to realize and confirm that I am indeed pregnant.

Her brow furrows. “Didn’t you use condoms?”

I give her a look.

“So one of them broke?”

I scrub my hands down my face. “We went without once.”

“Once? Holy hell, Hanna. What are the chances?”

“Five percent, apparently,” I mutter.

“Wait.” She shifts so she’s facing me, eyes wide. “Does Jake know? I have so many questions. I want to be excited, but I know how hard this has been for you in the past.”

I crack a smile. “It’s been an intense forty-eight hours. And yes, he knows. But it’s so complicated.” I need this time with Paxton so I can talk this out. Especially since she’s been through this with me before.

I tell Paxton all about the weekend, from finding out, to telling Jake, and then telling Ryan and his reaction.

“Ryan will adjust. He needs time.” She sounds so certain, and I want to believe that she’s right.

“I hope so. I get why it’s hard for him. Everyone he loves and trusted lied to him for a lot of years. He doesn’t like feeling betrayed, and this thing with Jake and me feels like a betrayal.” And he doesn’t truly know how long it was going on for, although I’m sure he and Queenie can surmise if they want.

“I can see that.” Paxton taps on the armrest. “Does this mean you’re going to move to Seattle?”

“That’s not part of my plan. Not right now. It’s too early to make that kind of decision when anything can still happen.”

“But is it going to be part of the plan eventually? Or will he move here?” She fidgets with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I really don’t know. My whole world is here.” I don’t want to think about the things and people I’d leave behind.

“So he didn’t mention it at all?” she presses.

“He did, but I’m not ready to deal with what that looks like yet.”

“Okay. We can come back to that later.” Paxton reaches out and squeezes my hand in silent understanding. “Next hard question. Have you told your parents yet?”

“No. Not yet.” My stomach does a flip-flop. My mom was such a huge source of support when I miscarried last time. She was there to pick up the pieces, and she was there when my relationship with Gordon crashed and burned. But this is very different. I can only hope after the initial shock, I’ll have the same level of support again.

Paxton makes a face. “When are you going to tell them?”

I’d like to say never, but that’s not possible. “Maybe I should move to Seattle.”

She tips her head, pensive for a moment. “You don’t think they’d be supportive?”

“I want to hope they will be. But it’s the who I’m having a baby with that I think is going to be the cause of the most conflict. It could literally be anyone other than Jake and I think it would be a lot easier to tell them.”

“Are you stuck on the fact he’s King’s father-in-law?”

“It’s a pretty reasonable thing to be stuck on.” I reach for my necklace. “And honestly, as weird as the family dynamic is, I think what I’m least excited to talk about is the fact Jake and I were having this secret relationship and I have no idea what we’re going to be to each other now. And considering what happened with my last pregnancy, I don’t know that putting any kind of label on it makes sense.”

Paxton sighs, her smile sad. “But he’s a great guy, with a great job, and you already know he’s a good parent. He passed up a career in the NHL so he could raise his daughter on his own. Won’t they see that side as well? And you’re an adult. You can have a relationship with whomever you want.”

“I know. You’re right. But beyond the confusing family circumstances, I’m scared that I’m going to tell my mom, and then she’ll finally come around, but it will be just like last time.” Only I already know what I stand to lose. The tightness in my throat eases with that admission.

“Oh, Han. I wish this were easier for you.” She nabs a tissue from the side table and passes it to me.

I dab my eyes, not realizing they’d started leaking. “I wish I were a decade younger.”

“I know there are a lot of things you’re worried about, Hanna, and that focusing on all the other stuff is probably a distraction you need, but at some point, you’re going to have to stop being so concerned about how everyone else is going to handle things and bring the focus back where it needs to be, on you.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I can’t pretend to know what this must feel like for you, but you deserve to be happy. And you deserve to have this baby. Give yourself permission to do both of those things, however unconventional that family is going to look.”

“Thank you for always being here for me.”

“That’s what best friends are for. I’m always beside you, no matter what happens.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

How It All Fits Together

Hanna

THE WEEK THAT follows finding out I have a bun in the oven passes in a blur of saltines, plain chips, work, accidental naps, and a lot of phone calls. Between conversations with Jake making sure I’m okay, Ryan checking up on me—he’s still off, but swears everything is fine and that he’s just worried—the group chat with all the girls, and Paxton showing up almost every night of the week with dinner, I’m feeling both overly pampered and exhausted.

I’ve also made Ryan promise not to say anything to Mom until after I’ve gone for the first ultrasound and I’ve heard the heartbeat. There’s no real logic to my not telling our parents, other than being nervous.

By Sunday, I’m a ball of anxious energy. I do an hour of yoga, followed by two hours of cleaning, even though my cleaner was here in the middle of the week. By the time I’m done, I’m sweaty and exhausted all over again.