Page 154 of Puck Prince

“The beginning of the pregnancy or the beginning of us?”

“Since before I even knew you were Owen Sharpe.”

Answering the string of questions I know are coming feels like ripping stitches out.

“Jesus.” He hunches forward like I just punched in the stomach. I might as well have. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Owen looks at me, and what I wouldn’t give to roll back time. My kingdom for a time machine. Knowing what I know now—seeing this raw, disappointed look on his face—I would’ve told him the second I saw him outside the arena. I would’ve let him drag me away from the reporter and then spilled the whole messy truth.

“I know I should have. I was going to. But with everything going on, I just couldn’t find the right time. I was so focused on work and finding a place to live and?—”

“You.”

I blink. “What?”

“You were so focused on yourself, on what you wanted and what mattered toyou, that you didn’t give a shit about me. If you did, you would’ve told me I’m going to have a kid?”

I hug myself as I start to cry. “I was in denial at first. And then… I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t— I was afraid.”

“You don’t think I’ve been afraid?” he roars, throwing his arms up. “I’ve been busting my ass to protect Summer and Nicky and you. I’ve been trying to do my job and manage the media and shield you from papz and even the people we work with. Meanwhile, you let me parade you around as my girlfriend while you knew you were pregnant.”

“I know!” I drop my face into my hands, my words muffled. “It was stupid. And selfish. I wasn’t thinking. I— It hasn’t exactly been great for me, either. I’ve been dealing with this alone for three months. Not even Kennedy knows.”

I’m pouring my heart out—a heart that is breaking with every word. But Owen just points to the door.

“Get out.”

My chest hitches. “Owen…”

I didn’t plan to, but I’m moving towards him.

He backs away, holding out a warning hand. “Callie, you lied to me.”

“I know, and I’m?—”

“You put yourself in danger, and you kept something from me that is very much my business. This is going to affect the rest of my life, but you decided to keep it to yourself because telling me was awkward. If you feel alone in this, that’s on you.” He steps aside, opening the path to the door. “Now, get out.”

He doesn’t want me here, and every second I spend looking into his cold, flat eyes takes years off my life.

But I can’t leave. Not like this.

“You can’t put this all on me. You were there that night, Owen. You lied about the key to Kennedy’s house. You ripped the condom open with your teeth, for fuck’s sake. And when it was over, you shoved me out the door. Sorry if I misunderstood that to mean you wanted a lasting commitment.”

“It was a random hookup!” he growls. “Was I supposed to propose marriage?”

“Was I supposed to assume you’d be overjoyed to hear we were starting a family?” I swipe at the angry tears rolling down my cheeks. “Yes, I should’ve told you—I know that. But when would I have, hmm? When the paparazzi were jumping out of bushes? When my uncle was grilling us about our nonexistent relationship? Or maybe when you lied to everyone about us being a couple without asking me all so you could feel like thehero? Maybe I kept it from you because I knew you’d freak out. Clearly, I wasn’t wrong.”

None of this is what I actually want to be saying.

I’m sorry.

Forgive me.

Let’s start over.

But we’re too far gone. This is who we are. We fight and throw out barbs and hurt each other.

We also laugh and tease and make up. But that feels like another universe right now.

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