Page 116 of Slapshot Baby

Because specificity means I've been building this picture in the background longer than I realized, while I was busy telling myself we were fake dating, then real dating, then just seeing where things go.

My heart built a future I never gave it permission to.

I press my back against the wall and slide down until I'm sitting on the pristine floors.

Steady, Ava. He can't even remember meeting you.

Kai got his memories back yesterday.

But I’m the one piece his brain can't find.

When he eventually remembers, he'll discover a woman he took home once. A hookup he was charming enough to get a number from and too concussed to ever call.

The man who bought me this studio believes I rebuilt his life out of love.

But I'm also the woman who hid the pregnancy of his baby, let him fall for an incomplete version of me.

When the truth comes out, this studio won't be a well-deserved gift.

My phone buzzes in my bag. It’s Mom.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Have you eaten today?”

“I’ve eaten three times today, Mom. It’s already noon.”

“Snacking doesn’t count.”

“It wasn’t a snack—I had two bowls of oatmeal, a plate of eggs, and half a sleeve of bagels.”

“Well, bread is not a proper foundation,” her mother insisted, unfazed. “You’re eating like a linebacker, but are any of those calories green? You need actual vegetables.” She pauses, her voice softening. “How are you feeling, though? Any more dizziness?”

"No dizziness. The new prenatals are helping."

"Good. And the antibody levels?"

"The next blood draw is Tuesday. Dr. Fernandez says the titers are holding steady. If they stay where they are, we might avoid the transfusion entirely. She's cautiously optimistic, which I think is doctor speak for 'stop calling me between appointments.'"

"That's a relief." But her voice doesn't sound relieved. "How's work? Are you managing the new clients and the appointments?"

"It’s better now, actually." I glance around the empty studio. "Kai bought me a studio space."

She’s silent for a while.

"Did you mean he bought it, or he simply leased it for you?"

"Mom,” I whisper, “the floors are nicer than anything I've ever designed for a client and I'm trying not to have a breakdown about it."

"Ava, that man is in love with you."

"It was a thank-you present," I say weakly.

"A man doesn't hand a woman a deed to a building because he's thankful. He does it because he sees a future and he's making room for her in it."

The accuracy of that sentence makes my ribs ache.

"Tell me about Kai, and I don't mean the studio. Are you together?"