Prologue

PROLOGUE

Lola

Sitting on the edge of the tub, I glare at the pregnancy test.

Pregnant.

I’m someone who makes lists and tracks their goals.

My best friend, Piper, said I should change my middle name from Grace to Organized, because that’s who I am. I live for strategy and color-coordinated spreadsheets.

I’m a stickler for deadlines and daily to-do lists.

I always tracked my period religiously too. But with all the secrets I’ve been keeping recently, it completely slipped my mind. I quickly do some mental math to figure out when I had my last period.

Three months, I think. Which means my baby is due in six.

I’m unprepared, which makes the panic claw at my throat.

I need a plan.

I’ll feel better once I have one.

Nursery furniture, stroller, car seat, clothes, diapers… I need everything.

Frantically, I open the lists app on my phone and tap the plus sign to start a fresh note, but I can’t bring myself to type anything.

I’m pregnant.

And not to the man I planned to marry.

Because he cheated on me.

None of my planning, or even a crystal ball, could have seen that coming.

I trusted him with my heart, and he obliterated it.

Three months have passed since I caught my former fiancé, Graham, cheating on me.

It was stupid of me not to put the facts together: if he wasn’t having sex with me, he was fucking someone else.

The same night I discovered his infidelity, I did something I'd never done before. I had a one-night stand. Well, it was more than that, but that’s how it started.

We didn’t mean for it to happen. It just, well, did.

And it was good.

Better than good.

Great.

Life-changing sex.

It healed me in ways I didn’t know were even possible.

I think that’s why we did it again the following night.

Which turned into weeks.

I was powerless against his tempting lips, strong body, and monster cock.

Completely dick drunk and high on the multiple orgasms he gave me night after night.

We couldn’t stop ourselves and swore it was just a rebound thing.

At least that’s how it started—casual sex to help me forget.

We were lying to ourselves and each other because there was more going on between us.

And now it’s so much more.

A baby.

How will I tell him?

When will I tell him?

Anxiety surges through my veins, pulsing faster than a shot of adrenaline.

Laying the pregnancy test on the lip of the bathtub, a cocktail of conflicted feelings zoom around my brain. I’m excited about the baby and sad at the same time because he and I are not together anymore.

Since ending things between us four weeks ago, all I’ve felt is sadness, but my body still craves him. It remembers his touch and his whispers of adoration as he fucked me into oblivion.

I had my reasons for calling it off.

At the time, it felt like the right thing, but now it feels like the worst decision I’ve ever made.

Sweat beads my top lip as nerves swirl in my lower belly. Or maybe it’s the baby moving. Is it too soon?

I give my tummy a rub as an involuntary smile pulls at my lips.

The tension that’s been living in my temples since I realized my period was late eases a little as happiness fizzes over my skin.

I’m going to be a mom.

“Hey, little one. It’s me, Mommy.” Just wait till you find out who your daddy is.

The journalists are going to have a feeding frenzy.

Because my baby daddy is someone extraordinary.

Jordan ‘Jordy’ Miller.

Son of the President of the Edmonton Chamber of Commerce.

He’s an elite hockey player for the NHL.

An Edmonton Eagle.

Their star right-winger.

And my brother’s best friend.