Chapter Thirty

Rowan

The moment I step into Penelope’s apartment, the sound of excited chatter from the usual crew of friends fills the space. Penelope invited us all over to her place to watch the game. A tradition, as I’ve been told, that’s been around since before I started coming around. And though I no longer work with the Hawkeyes as the journalist on the exclusive, the girls have continued inviting me to all the usual events.

The moment I enter the living room I notice Tessa, Autumn and Cammy are already sitting in the large section discussing the new sushi restaurant that opened down the street, while the pre-game excitement heats up on the T.V. Popular retired hockey players are guest commentators giving their opinions for game seven of the second round. Whoever wins tonight goes head to head for the final round and the Stanley Cup.

Tonight is the night that we find out if the Hawkeyes will have another shot at the championship. It stings a little that I’m not out-of-town with the team but I’m happy to be gathered on her massive sectional with my friends, everyone in various states of excitement, anticipation, and, in my case, nerves.

Tessa tosses me a pillow to tuck behind my back as I settle deeper into the corner of the couch. "So," she says, narrowing her eyes playfully, "how’s life after Charles Albright?" she asks, her tone light, but I know she’s curious.

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Honestly, being unemployed is busier than I expected. Leo has been emailing me constantly, I’m helping with a collaboration between The Painted Easel and Harper's art exhibits, and I’ve been getting a crash course in what it actually takes to run a magazine. Turns out, it’s more than just editing articles and picking out pretty pictures,” I tease. Of course I knew it would be a lot of work.

“When will the job offer come? He can’t expect to keep you for free,” Penelope smirks, giving my arm a nudge.

I rub my lips together, unsure of how to admit this part. Once I tell them the truth, they’re all going to wonder why I haven’t packed my bags and moved to Liverpool. "Actually, Leo already made me an official offer last week. Full-time. Senior editorial position. It’s the kind of job you don’t turn down. Not to mention, it’s based in Liverpool, and they’re willing to work with me remotely in the short term.”

I can feel all of my friends stare back at me, dumbfounded by the offer, and probably all wondering why I'm not jumping with joy.

“Oh my God, Rowan, that’s incredible!” Brynn exclaims, leaning forward with wide eyes. “Are you going to take it?”

The room falls quiet, all eyes on me as I feel the weight of their question settle over me. I can almost see them waiting for me to declare my future, to know if I’m staying or packing up for the other side of the Atlantic.

I hesitate, fiddling with the pillow behind my back to distract myself. “I don’t know yet,” I say, and nibble down on my lower lip. “Things have gotten a little more complicated than I expected.”

Zoey glances over from the far end of the couch, her dark eyes sympathetic. “It sounds like you love what you’re doing with The Painted Easel and this new opportunity with Harper. What’s complicated about that?”

I open my mouth, the words lingering on the edge, but before I can answer, Isla appears, holding up a bottle of wine. “Does anyone need a top-off?” She looks around, her gaze pausing on me with a knowing smile. “Rowan? Do you need a glass?”

I swallow, shaking my head. “No, thanks. I can’t drink for a while.”

There’s a moment of silence as the words sink in. Then, as if on cue, all heads whip toward me again, eyes widening, mouths dropping. Tessa raises an eyebrow, a sly smile curving her lips.

“Rowan, you can’t drink?” she asks, tilting her head, “And exactly how long are we talking here?”

My heart races as I realize this is it—no more hiding, no more hesitation. These are the women who I know will also catch me if I fall, or if I just need a hug and a good laugh. This, here with them, is my safe place. I clear my throat, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up. “Nine months.”

The room erupts. There are squeals, gasps, and shouts of “Oh my God!” as they all rush to hug me, laughing and congratulating, hands covering their mouths in pure shock and joy.

“It’s Bex’s, isn’t it?” Penelope asks, voice soft but laced with excitement. She’s looking at me with an expression that’s both thrilled and tender, as if she’s seeing this future unfold for me, one she’s clearly rooting for.

I nod, my heart pounding. “Yes… it’s his.”

The room falls silent again, but this time it’s different. There’s an understanding there, a weight, as each of them processes the news. They know what happened between us, the whole franchise knows, really.

News travels fast, especially when Bex practically bit my head off over the article in the middle of the players tunnel. The stadium echoes and I doubt anyone without the walls of the building missed him telling me off.

He didn’t believe me, and now I’ve lost him and my career. But in its place, the hope of a new life with a baby and maybe, if I can find a way to tell Leo that I’m carrying his nephew or niece, a new world overseas.

A very pregnant Tessa breaks the silence first, her tone serious but warm. “So… why not take the job then? This could be the perfect solution. The job is flexible, right? You can work remotely for a while, and then, when you’re ready, move closer to his family. I’d think Bex would agree with that, especially if it means you’ll be around people who care about you both.”

And this is where the shit hits the fan, as they say.

“Bex doesn’t know about the baby yet,” I admit quietly, feeling a familiar weight settle in my chest. “I haven’t told him. I just had my first ultrasound and I’m ten weeks along.”

“The gala?” Autumn asks, and I nod back in response.

“You’re almost out of your first trimester!” Isla beams. “What did the doctor say?” she asks, knowing about my struggles with conceiving in the first place.

“She’s really happy with the baby's growth. She says that she doesn’t have any concerns right now but that she’ll see me for an official ultrasound in a few weeks.”

“Oh, honey,” Isla says, reaching over to take my hand with sad eyes. “You should tell him. He deserves to know. I was scared to tell Kaenan at first too. We hadn’t planned to get pregnant last year but it happened and he was so happy when he found out. Give Bex a chance to be excited too.”

I swallow, my gaze drifting to the game on the screen. Bex is there, stoic and focused as ever, his eyes locked on the ice as he goes over last-minute plans with the assistant coach. “I know. It’s just… complicated. I don’t want to tell him and have him think I’m using it to fix what’s broken between us. He deserves to know, yes, but not if he feels trapped. I don't think that I couldn’t get pregnant and now, I am.”

“Look,” Brynn interjects, her tone more confident than I feel. “This is Bex we’re talking about. He’s not the kind of guy to feel trapped by anything. And if he didn’t use a rubber, then he’s just as responsible for this sweet little baby. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t already care about you, Ro. Anyone with half a brain could see how he felt about you before everything went sideways. This isn’t just about you anymore. He’s going to want to know he’s going to be a father.”

The girls all nod in agreement, each of them staring at me with that same fierce determination, the same certainty. They’ve become my family here, each one of them, and I can feel the strength in their combined support, the certainty that they want this for me, for Bex, for the little life growing inside me.

Their words resonate deep inside me, touching that part of me that’s been so afraid, so conflicted. The truth is, I want him to know. I want him to be a part of this, to share in every joy, every milestone. I’m terrified, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re about to embark on something truly meaningful.

The game kicks off, and the room explodes with cheers, our attention snapping to the screen as the puck drops. Each one of us holding our breath as the players skate down the ice, a dance of speed, skill, and grit. The Hawkeyes have made it this far, and every goal, every near miss feels like a heartbeat, pounding in time with the tension in the room.

The minutes slip by, each one an eternity, until finally, with a minute left on the clock and the score tied, the Hawkeyes manage a final, breathtaking goal. The room erupts in screams, laughter, and clapping as the buzzer sounds, and the Hawkeyes are officially on their way to the Stanley Cup finals.

For a moment, I’m swept up in the joy, the excitement of it all, but then my eyes land on Bex. He’s on the screen, arms thrown around his players, a grin splitting his face in a way I’ve rarely seen before, the last time was lying in his arms in the hotel room in Vancouver. He’s radiant, triumphant, his joy unfiltered as he celebrates with the team, the players, and the city that loves him.

The camera shifts, zooming in on him just as he turns to scan the stands, and my heart skips a beat. His eyes search the crowd, as if he’s searching for someone… as if he’s looking for me. And when his gaze meets the camera, there’s something in his expression that fills me with a warmth so intense I almost can’t breathe.

In that moment, it’s like a weight lifts from my shoulders, and everything clicks into place. This isn’t just his story. It’s ours. And it’s no longer just about us—it’s about the life we’ve created, the future we have waiting. I press a hand against my belly, the tiniest flutter stirring within, and though I know it’s too early to feel the baby move, I swear there’s a connection there, a knowing that bridges the gap between us.

The girls notice my silence, each of them glancing over with wide eyes, and Tessa nudges me with a knowing smile. “You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

I nod, a small smile playing on my lips as I tear my gaze from the screen. “Yeah,” I say softly, my voice filled with a newfound certainty. “Yeah, I know.”

Penelope grins, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. “Good. Because this is your story, Rowan. And you deserve to live it fully.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter, hugs, and excitement, each of us basking in the afterglow of the Hawkeyes’ victory. But as I sit there, my hand resting protectively over my belly, I know that this is only the beginning. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him. Tomorrow, I’ll let him know about the life we’ve created, the future that awaits us both.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel at peace. I’m ready. And no matter what comes next, I know I’m not alone.