Noah hummed, pausing at some action movie that had recently started. “Throwing up, gaining weight, moody…”
“I haven’t been moody.” Sophie got defensive.
He chuckled. “Uh-huh. That’s what my sister said before she found out she was pregnant.”
That was funny. “How did I not know you have a sister?”
It was Noah’s turn to shrug a little, which made him drop a spring roll on the floor. “Where’s Cujo? Shit.” He licked some sauce from his T-shirt. “Shit, shit, sorry about that.”
“Pick it up,” Sophie laughed. “Max isn’t eating that crap. Now, about your sister?”
“Oh, right.” He picked up the roll and shoved it into his mouth. “She lives in Berlin, so we don’t see each other often. We text and Skype and stuff. She’s got two cute kids, but I hate when they visit our parents in Pittsburgh. Makes my folks wonder when I’m gonna settle down.”
“Poor you,” Sophie mocked. “So you don’t want kids of your own?”
“Fuck no, I’d ruin them.” Noah went back to flipping channels. “Unless they pop out as hockey fans. Then we’re good.”
She snorted a giggle and ate some more.
“Seriously, though.” He pointed his fork at her. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”
“Oh my God, yes.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “I think I’d know if I was growing a person. Besides, I haven’t had sex since July—whatever date the wrap party was.”
It was mid-November now.
“The twenty-fifth,” he murmured, pensive. “So…that would make Tennyson the dad.”
She ignored the pregnancy crap and stared intently at her food. She’d never said anything out loud to Noah about her and Tennyson, though most people had their suspicions.
“I’m not pregnant, Noah.”
“You’re pregnant, Ms. Pierce.”
Sophie sat in her doctor’s office and stared, waiting for the punch line.
The doctor went on with a nod. “That’s what’s been causing your body to change so quickly. You are pregnant.”
Sophie waited some more, and then she let out a nervous laugh. “Be serious, please. What’s wrong with me?”
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he told her patiently. “You are simply pregnant. Now, since I know you have a demanding schedule, I took the liberty and made you an appointment with a colleague for an ultrasound—right after we’re done here.”
She pursed her lips. Her brain was completely blank aside from the word “pregnant” going on a loop.
There was no way.
She was only twenty-one. She hadn’t had sex in…almost four months. Four fucking months.
“I imagine this is coming as a surprise for you.” The doctor went through a stack of papers that sat on his desk. “I have the records here from your doctor in Vancouver, and you’ve said your period’s been irregular?” With every word the doctor spoke, more color drained from Sophie’s face. “Due to your previous condition with undernourishment, that can obviously affect your ability to get pregnant, but it’s far from impossible—”
“I’m on the pill!” she blurted out.
All of a sudden, her breaths came out fast and shallow.
Holy shit, this couldn’t be happening.
She and Tennyson had been protected, goddammit. They’d used condoms until they’d spoken about safety. They’d both been clean, and she was on the pill.
“Did you ever miss taking one?” the doctor asked gently. “Remember, birth control is never one hundred percent.”
“Oh my God,” Sophie whimpered.
Coming out of the bathroom after his shower, Tennyson fastened his watch and tapped it pointedly for Asher to get off the damn phone. Tennyson would’ve been more patient if it weren’t for the fact that this was his vacation and he was hungry as fuck.
Asher nodded and held up a finger. “Okay, that’s great,” he told whomever he was on the phone with. “No, I was only surprised because she’s worked so hard. But it’s good that she’s not canceling.” There was a pause, and Tennyson wondered if they were discussing Sophie. “Rescheduling is fine, and have the interviewer fly out if she wants to stay in LA for whatever reason.”
By the time he wrapped up the call, Tennyson had dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and he sat down on the edge of his bed to find his eye drops in his toiletry bag.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Asher’s brow furrowed and he scrolled down on his phone. “Sophie. I need to call her tomorrow. Remember I thought she was canceling a bunch of appointments?” Tennyson frowned and nodded, and Ash went on. “She’s not—but she’s rescheduling, and I don’t know why.”
Tennyson didn’t know what to say, other than he was worried. Ever since she’d put her diva antics and princess behavior behind her, she’d been nothing but accommodating. She always pushed herself to be her absolute best.
“You ready to go eat?” Ash asked.
“Yeah.” Tennyson ducked into the bathroom real quick to insert some drops into his eyes, and then he grabbed his wallet before they left.
On the way to the restaurant, he made a mental note to call Sophie when he got back to the hotel. If something was wrong, he wanted to be there for her.
The desert town was lit up for Christmas, but it didn’t really feel like the holiday had arrived.
“Hold on.” Asher grabbed Tennyson’s shoulder as they were passing a bodega. “What the fuck is this?” He walked over to a newsstand and snatched up a magazine.
Upon seeing it was a tabloid, Tennyson rolled his eyes. “Since when do you read gossip?”
Asher turned and slapped the magazine to Tennyson’s chest. “Since I learned your ex is pregnant.”
Tennyson held up the magazine and saw the headline.
“The Party Princess is Pregnant!”
Having lived and breathed the industry for years, Tennyson was ready to brush it off as bullshit, but then he saw the grainy photos. Three of them on the cover, one with a circle around Sophie’s belly. Then a centerfold that was all about her. Several photos of Sophie, Max, Brooklyn, and Maliah on the beach.
Sophie was wearing what looked like cotton shorts and a bulky sweatshirt, but at some point, she had unzipped it. And it was clear as day. Her snug top underneath the hoodie hugged a small, yet very distinct baby bump.
Photo after photo. Sophie and Maliah were tossing a tennis ball for Max to chase, and the wind blew the shirt aside. So many angles of proof. She was pregnant.