A Kiss for a Kiss (All In 4)

I settle my palm over my stomach, not wanting to think about how painful it will be if this doesn’t go the way I want it to. “It’s happening, whether we like it or not. And I’m not terminating, not unless there’s no other option to protect the baby’s quality of life.”

“What about your quality of life?” he asks, voice cracking at the end.

“I’ll deal with whatever is thrown at me.”

“What are the medical risks in your forties? And even if everything goes smoothly, you’re talking about midnight feedings and dealing with a toddler. That’s a lot of energy with a partner, let alone trying to do it on your own, which, you’ve implied more than once is something you’re prepared to do.” His tone shifts again, and I can’t quite read it.

Is he angry about that, scared, frustrated? I don’t know enough about how things went with Queenie’s mother to understand how he’s feeling. All I know is that she left them when Queenie was an infant and Jake raised her on his own.

“Because I don’t want you to feel beholden to the baby or me.”

“How will I not feel that way at every damn family gathering we’re at together?” He runs both hands down his face. “I should have stopped and got a damn condom.”

I laugh in disbelief. “You know what? I don’t think this is a particularly productive conversation right now. I think we’re both tired and emotional, and I’m very close to saying things I’m probably going to regret in the morning. You should go home.”

“We need to figure out what we’re going to tell the kids.”

“Come back in the morning. We can talk then, but I’m done with this conversation and you tonight.” I push up off the couch.

“Hanna.” Jake grabs for my wrist. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t.” I hold up a finger. “I get that you are in shock. And I understand that you feel blindsided because I felt the same way earlier today. But you are being thoughtless and entirely self-absorbed. Sleep on it. Get some perspective. We’ll talk tomorrow.” With that, I storm down the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind me and flipping the lock.

I’m shaking and angry. I take several deep breaths, trying to calm down.

A few seconds later, there’s a quiet knock on the door. “Hanna?”

“I’m done tonight,” I call out.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Sorry isn’t going to fix this problem.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Let’s Try that Again

Jake

I ORDER AN Uber and go home. I feel like shit, but I also don’t seem to be able to say anything to Hanna without sticking my foot in my mouth and coming off like a jerk.

Sleep is evasive. I maybe manage an hour or two of restless dozing, but my mind is spinning on an endless loop of what-ifs and why nows. I finally give up at four and make myself a coffee.

I watch it drip into the cup and consider Hanna’s past experiences—Ryan being raised by her parents, getting pregnant only to wind up losing the baby before she could celebrate it, her marriage ending, and now this.

I don’t know what it’s like to be in her shoes.

But I do know what it’s like to think I was doing all the right things with Kimmie where her pregnancy was concerned, only to have her tell me I shouldn’t have pushed her to keep the baby and walk away from both of us, leaving me to raise Queenie on my own. I don’t necessarily think that’s something Hanna is likely to do, but I can’t help that’s where my mind goes.

My parents were awesome, and supportive, but while other twenty-year-olds were going to bars, getting drunk, and having girlfriends, pulling all-nighters studying for exams, or hanging out with friends, I was juggling my degree, hockey, and dealing with sleepless nights thanks to midnight feedings and learning how to manage being a single parent.

While my teammates were sleeping off hangovers, I was meeting with my lawyer and filing for full custody of my daughter. I wouldn’t leave Queenie without two parents.

Instead of starting my career on the ice, I took a lower-level position in administration and dealt with the terrible twos and things like potty training and trying to get her to sleep through the night.

Over the past few months, I’ve finally had a taste of freedom, of feeling secure in the knowledge that my daughter has found a great partner to navigate life with. I’d just gotten used to quiet mornings and living alone. I’d been looking forward to getting back on the dating scene. Eventually. After I’d given myself some time to get over the whole Hanna thing ending, which, to be honest, was taking a lot longer than I thought it would. Maybe because we weren’t just casual lovers, we were friends, too.