Page 64 of A Major Puck Up

“Lake is pregnant.”

For a moment, my brain goes blank, and I hold my breath. There’s a humming in my ear, maybe a buzzing, a warning, perhaps, that I’m being starved of oxygen.

“I know it’s probably not what you want to hear,” Gavin continues, pulling me into his chest, “but maybe it will work to our advantage. He’s happy. And yeah, it will be a little weird when our kids are close in age to your sibling, but stranger things have happened, right?”

He pulls back, his lips quirked in a hopeful smile, as if he’s waiting for me to agree, but his words are still ricocheting through my brain.

“Did—did you just say our kids?” I latch on to that one thing as my heart hammers painfully in my chest.

His smile fades slowly, and the light in his eyes snuffs out. “Millie, I’m not getting any younger.”

“I’m twenty-three,” I deadpan.

“Believe me, I’m aware.” He runs a hand through my hair, frowning. “Do you not want kids?”

He swallows audibly, studying me as if he’s trying to read my mind. One of the things I love most about him—how well he understands me—makes me feel itchy all of a sudden.

God, please don’t let him read these thoughts.

Trembling, I turn the question around on him. “Do you?”

His expression is thoughtful as he nods. “I never used to think I did…”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Okay. He’s just having a moment. “Then where is this coming from?”

“My brother is such a good dad to Liv’s kids, and now he’s having twins and he’s so excited about it. And then your dad?—”

I groan. “Please stop reminding me that my father is having a baby with someone my age.”

“She’s older than you, and their age difference is the same as ours,” he argues.

“No, they’re twenty-one years apart.” I smile. “We’re eighteen.”

He laughs. “Do you hear yourself?”

I close my eyes and bow my head. “I know. I know I sound ridiculous, but give me a minute with this. A couple of hours ago, we were talking about telling my dad that we’re seeing each other. Now you’re talking about kids, and I’ve got a new brother or sister coming. This is insane.”

“My hope to have a family with you is not insane. And I wouldn’t be telling your father about us if I didn’t want you in my life forever, Millie. I wouldn’t have risked my friendship with him months ago. I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. And I want my best friend to be okay with that.”

This is so not how I thought today would go. I sit there, dumbfounded. Shocked. “You haven’t even said I love you, but you want to marry me?”

“Millie—”

I cover his mouth. “Don’t. Not like this.” I shake my head and suck in a breath, suddenly feeling slightly claustrophobic. “I think I need to go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

“It’s seven already. It’s dark and it’s freezing out. Don’t do this. Don’t run.”

My breaths come in ragged, uneven gasps, my lungs burning. “I’m not. I’m just—” I can’t look at him. Can’t see his face when I say this. “I can’t do this. I think…” I swallow and take in another breath, searching for words that make sense. “I should go back to Paris. We’ll be fine. This just isn’t the right time to tell my dad. I think maybe…maybe later.” I nod. Yes. That’s exactly what needs to happen. We need to slow down. Things have been so perfect between us, and I want to go back to that. We just need to hit pause for a little bit.

“You’re going back to Paris?”

I stand and snag my clothes. Then I spin in a circle, searching for my other belongings. My suitcase is still full and open on the floor. I’ve only been here for a few hours. “Yes. Then my father can’t tell me about Lake, and I—we’ll—things can stay the way they were. Nothing has to change.” I turn around, clutching my clothes to my chest, and plead with him. “Please, Gavin. I can’t tell him. I can’t hear it. I can’t do that.” I point to him, then to myself. “I can do this. We’re perfect. Come back to Paris with me. We can spend Christmas together in my apartment. We’ll get a little tree and go to that café you like. I’ll even sing that song you love.” My heart starts to settle the more I think about being with him there, away from all this. Yes, this is what we need. To spend the holidays, just us two. No talk of kids or the future. No Lake or my father.

No pressure. Just us.

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll sing it in English,” I say with a smile.

---