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It’s been five months since we've seen each other. And we barely got to see each other after high school.
Now we're just two strangers with shared memories.
"So, what can I do for you as the new head of PR?" I lean forward, steering the conversation back to safer waters.
"Well, it's kind of personal, like I said. But let's save it for after you ace your dinner with the Blades tomorrow," he says, giving me that boyish smile that had me falling for him all those years ago. "And now I'm thinking...maybe we go to this shindig tomorrow together?"
For a moment, I can almost forget the tangled web between us, the present mess, and the secrets I’m keeping. But only for a moment.
I blink, trying to process his offer. "You want to come with me to the dinner with the Blades?"
Jacob nods, his expression earnest. "Yes, I think it might help. Plus, I could use some good PR right now, and showing up together might send the right message. It might show Coach and the team that I'm taking this newest gossip seriously and that I'm committed to making amends."
"And you’re really willing to tie yourself to me for your own redemption arc?"
He grins. "Hey, think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement. You get my charming company, and I get a shot at clearing my name."
"Oh, how far the mighty Jacob 'Jackhammer' Walker has fallen. From high school prankster to a PR disaster in need of my help."
He laughs, a warm sound that takes me back to simpler times. "Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound too great, does it?" He nods, those ocean-blue eyes of his looking more serious than I've seen them in a while. "Yeah. I think if we show a united front, it might help mitigate some of the damage from the latest story. Plus, you could use the support as the newest Blades employee, right?"
If my jaw could drop any lower, it would hit the table. This is Jacob we're talking about—the same Jacob who once faked a sprained ankle to get out of his own family brunch. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Responsible."
He chuckles, scratching that familiar spot on the back of his head. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, it only feels right to help out since you’re saving my behind once again."
"You realize this isn't just any dinner, right? The Blades administration can smell fear. Or, worse, insincerity."
"Then it's a good thing you'll be there to keep me in check." He pauses, his broad shoulders shifting beneath his collared shirt. "Look, I know it's a lot to ask, especially since I'm essentially using our history to guilt you into it. But...fuck it. You're the best at what you do, Gabs. And you know it. And, to be really fucking honest, I could really use a win right now. Please, Gabi."
Looking at him now, all earnest eyes and determined demeanor, I wonder how he does it—makes everything sound just a bit less daunting than it actually is.
It's a knack he's had since he was all of seven, sitting with Gio and me in the treehouse outside Nonna's house, making up stories that kept us on the edge of our seats until finally, my grandmother called us down for dinner.
They were always wild tales—dragons who could speak Italian and princesses with swords instead of crowns—but even then, Jacob had a way of weaving in real-life lessons. Like how to be brave when things got tough or how to never give up, no matter how impossible things seemed.
Knowing how he grew up, without his mother and with a father who was barely around, it's no surprise that he learned to be self-sufficient at a young age. But even with all of that weight on his shoulders, he still managed to keep that spark of imagination alive.
I see that imagination now, as he stares at me with pleading eyes and a hopeful smile. And in that moment, I know I can't say no to him.
I’m about to reply when a sudden wave of nausea hits me.
I clutch my stomach as if my guts have decided to take a rollercoaster ride without my permission.
Jacob's eyes widen, and he's by my side in a split second, one hand on my back and the other hovering awkwardly as if he's unsure whether to pat me or just hold my hair back.
"Whoa, Gabi, you okay?" His blue eyes are searching my face for answers I don't have the breath to give.
I manage to nod. "Y-yeah, just...give me a second." I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the nausea doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Finally, Jacob hands me a bottle of water from the table.
As I sip, his worried gaze doesn't waver. It falls to my protruding stomach—the one I've been hiding behind the desk this entire time. The concern in his voice is unmistakable.
"Gabs, what the hell is going on?"
I take another deep breath and decide it's now or never. "I'm pregnant, Jacob."
If he had been sipping water, he'd be spraying it out of his mouth right about now. Instead, his jaw drops open, and he just stares at me with the expression of someone who has been hit with a minor cataclysm.
"You're...pregnant?" His deep voice is barely a whisper.
