Pucked Love (Pucked 6)

She smiles wistfully. “It’d be nice if our kids could all grow up together, wouldn’t it? I can kind of see what the future would be like if all of us stayed here. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we both had girls and they were best friends like we are?”

I don’t even know if Darren is going to be in Chicago next year, let alone if we’re still going to be together, and already Violet is planning our kids’ futures.

Violet wipes under her eyes and stares down at the wetness as if she can’t understand how it got there. “Oh my God, I’m not even pregnant yet, and I’m already crying about everything.”

I hand her a clean napkin, and she blots under her eyes. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant? I mean, you’re eating like you’re trying to win some kind of competition. And the breast tenderness . . .”

I mean it as a joke, but she pulls out her phone and flips through her calendar. “Oh shit.”

My stomach does a little flip.

“I should’ve gotten my period five days ago.” Violet’s eyes are huge. She grips the edge of the table. “What if I’m pregnant?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I guess that’s the whole point. I figured it would take a while—like, more than a couple of months, you know? I thought I’d be able to have a glass of wine this weekend. If I am preggers, it’s going to be a year before I do that again.”

“At least you’ll have Sunny to keep you company?” It’s meant as reassurance for her, but it causes a twinge of jealousy because it’s another way I’m not like the rest of the girls.

“Yeah, there’s that.” Violet taps her lips. “You know what we should do?”

“Stop at a CVS on the way home and get one of those pee-stick tests to find out if you’re knocked up?”

“No—well, yes, but that’s not what I was going to say. If they go to game seven in this series, we should all go to Toronto. And if I’m not pregnant, I’m totally going to drink my face off.”

“Either way, that would be fun.” It would be nice to get away for a couple of days.

I feel bad that I’m almost hoping Violet isn’t pregnant. I’d like to get smashed with my best friend.

“Right? We can start looking at flights. Maybe go in a day early and do some shopping? Stock up on all the mapley deliciousness.”

“I’ll ask Darren if he’d be okay with that.”

Violet’s eyes light up. “Or you could surprise him!”

“Uh . . . I’m not so sure that’s a great idea, considering what happened the last time I did that.” My face heats at the memory.

“This is different, though. You’re not planning a BDSM bash. You’d just be coming to see him play hockey and ride his joy stick.”

I give her a look. “I should still ask him first. Just to make sure.”

“Why? I mean, he’s going to want you there regardless, isn’t he? If Chicago wins, they move on to the next round of the playoffs, and you get to have fuck-yeah sex.” She pumps her fist almost like she’s jerking off a pretend penis. “If they lose, you get to have condolence sex. You’re the one who told me this back when Alex and I were doing our mating dance.”

“I’ll talk to Darren about it. In the meantime, let’s find out if you’ll be able to drink something other than ginger ale for the next nine months, unless you want to wait until Alex gets home and do it then.”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow. We’re doing this now.”

We stop at the CVS on the way back to the office. Violet makes me come into the private wheelchair bathroom with her while she pees on a stick. I face the wall while she does the honors, letting out a crazy squeal.

“Holy shit—are you pregnant?”

“No, I just peed on my hand!” After she’s finished her business, she sets the stick on the edge of the sink and washes her hands three times, breathing like she’s practicing Lamaze. “Has it been two minutes yet? Jesus, I’m so nervous. You look for me.” She closes her eyes and thrusts the stick at me.

I look at the little window and swallow down the lump in my throat. “It’s a plus sign.”

Her eyes pop open. “What does that mean? Does that mean I’m preggers?”

I nod and show her the test, smiling softly at my best friend even though a part of me is so very sad.

She grabs the test and stares down at it, slack jawed. “Look at how blue that is. I went off the pill two freaking months ago. Alex is going to be so proud of his magic sperm. Fuck. Shit. I’m pregnant, Char. What if I make a terrible mother? What if I’m like Skye and I embarrass the fuck out of my kid? What if it hates me, and we become estranged, and it writes a tell-all book about how horrible I am—”