“So you’re really doing this, huh?” Garrett sounds a bit awed.

“Yup.”

“Do I get to be the godfather?”

“Fuck that!” Logan objects. “He’s picking me. Obvs.”

“Bullshit. I’m clearly the better choice.”

“You’re clearly the bigger egomaniac, that’s what you are.”

I snicker. “Keep this up and I’m picking neither of you. But it’s good to know you’re both eager for the job. I think I’ll come up with some kind of competition, make you two battle it out.”

“I’ll win,” Garrett says immediately.

“Fuck that!”

They’re still arguing about it as I duck out of the kitchen. Dean might’ve been a jackass about my big news, but it’s a relief to know that at least I have G and Logan’s support.

I’m sure as hell going to need it.

*

I’m here. Where u at?

Fitzy’s text pops up as I park in the lot in front of Malone’s. I drove here straight from the house, because telling my roommates about the baby isn’t the only item on tonight’s agenda. I still need to find a place to live, and I’m really hoping Fitz can help me with that.

I quickly type a response.

Me: Just got here. Walking in now.

Him: Corner booth in the back.

Putting away my phone, I lock the truck and head into the bar. Fitzy is sipping a beer when I slide onto the booth seat across from him. He’s ordered one for me too, which I gratefully accept.

“Hey. Thanks for meeting up.”

He shrugs. “No prob. I was getting stir crazy anyway. My apartment is too fucking small.”

Huh. I didn’t expect an opening this early in the conversation, but damned if I’m going to pass it up. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Fitzy arches a brow. “My small apartment?”

“Sort of.” I trace my finger over the label of my beer. “You said your lease is ending in May, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You given any thought to what you’re doing about that? Are you signing another lease? Moving somewhere else?”

A grin tugs on the corners of his mouth. “What’s with the Twenty Questions?”

“Just trying to figure out where your head is at.” I take another sip. “I’m not going back to Texas after graduation.”

He peers at me over the neck of his bottle. “Since when?”

“Since I’m having a kid in August.”

Loud choking noises break out from his side of the booth. I probably shouldn’t have sprung that on him while he was mid-sip. I feel bad as I watch him cough wildly.

“Y-you—” He coughs again. Clears his throat. “You’re having a kid?”

“Yeah. Sabrina’s pregnant.”

“Oh.” One tattooed arm lifts so he can rub his temple. “Shit. Well. Congrats, I guess?”

An unwitting smile touches my lips. “Thanks.”

He studies me carefully. “You seem cool about this.”

“That’s because I am,” I say simply. “But yeah, I definitely need to find a place in Boston. And I remember you mentioned you wouldn’t be against living in the city, so…” I shrug. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask if you’re in the market for a roommate.”

“Ah.” Regret flickers in his expression. “I decided not to do that. I thought I’d be cool with the commute, but I talked it through with Hollis and he reminded me what a bitch it is to drive from Boston to Hastings in the winter, so I’m going to stick around here for my senior year.”

I swallow my disappointment. “Oh, okay. That makes sense.”

“Stupid question, but…why aren’t you moving in with Sabrina?”

Stupid question, no. Good question? Hell yes.

“We’re not there yet,” I reply, because the alternative is fucking embarrassing. Because she doesn’t want to be with me.

“Okay. Well. If you’re serious about living in Boston, I actually do know someone who needs a roommate.”

I brighten up. “Who?”

“You’re not going to like it,” he warns.

“Who?” I press.

“Hollis’ brother. His landlord hiked up his rent and he’s not sure he can keep the place on his own.”

Aw fuck. Brody Hollis, king of the douches? The man who puts the bro in Brody? I’d rather—no. There’s no I’d rather. I’m not exactly swimming in options at the moment. Brody might be…fratty, but his apartment was big and clean and had two bedrooms.

And it’s only a five-minute drive from Sabrina’s house.

As much as I hate the idea, I can’t deny that it’s a good, convenient option.

I take another long sip of my beer. Then I say, “Can I have his number?”

26

Sabrina

“I’m nervous.” I whisper the words in Tucker’s ear so that the other expectant moms in the waiting room won’t hear me. They all have this happy excited glow to their faces, and I don’t want to ruin it for them. Just because I’m a basket case doesn’t mean I should freak anyone else out.

But I’m freaked. This is the first appointment that Tuck has come along for, and it’s the one that will reveal the sex of the baby—if we can reach an agreement about it. I want to know. He wants to be surprised. And this is the perfect illustration of the kind of people we are.

I’m the one who likes to be in control. If I know the sex of the baby, I can plan for it. Buy cute little girlie stuff or cute little boy stuff. Come up with names.

Tucker is a go-with-the-flow guy. He thinks we should just buy yellow clothes and be done with it.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about.” He squeezes my hand and leans in to kiss my cheek.

I give an involuntary shiver. His lips are soft and warm and I want to feel them against my mouth, not my cheek. I want to kiss his neck and suck on it until he moans. I want to slide my hand inside his pants, grip his cock, and stroke him off until he comes all over my hand.

Did I mention I’m horny as fuck?

I don’t know if it’s all the increased sensitivity or the three or so months of sexual dormancy, but holy hell do I need to get laid. Even the accidental brush of my own hand against my boobs gets me hot and bothered. I read that women are usually super aroused during the first trimester, but my sex drive didn’t kick into overdrive until the second one. Every time I see Tucker, I want to rip his clothes off.