Page 144 of Puck Prince

“I see how it is,” Miles says with fake hurt in his voice. Then he winks at me.

My stomach turns.

“You two come here often?” Lance asks.

“Alisha likes places like this, and I figured I should take her out as much as possible before the baby gets here.”

All of us nearly choke.

“Baby?” Lance is the first one capable of forming words.

Miles acts like it’s not a surprise. Like we all knew. “Yeah. Alisha is pregnant.”

“Oh. Wow.” Owen seems unsure how to react. “I mean, congrats, brother.” He stands to give him a hand shake. Then he asks the waitress if we can add another two chairs to our table.

And just like that, the night takes a turn.

Alisha sits quietly as Miles orders a beer for himself and a water for her. She’s dressed beautifully, but she keeps her hands in her lap and a small, unwavering smile taped on her face.

I feel bad for her.

“Alisha, when are you due?” I ask.

She makes a show of trying to do the math before she shrugs. “I’m about 12 weeks along.”

So am I, I want to say.

I don’t have an exact number, but I do know exactly when I conceived, so the window is pretty small.

“We actually went to see the doctor last week,” Miles beams. “I got to see pictures of the little gremlin.”

“It’s a baby.” Alisha pats his leg, but Miles barely looks at her.

“It didn’t look like a baby. Not yet, anyway,” Miles goes on. “But I can’t wait to do the whole Dad thing. When she first told me I was like, fuck my life, you know? But then I thought about it, and I like the idea of a mini me running around. Maybe he’ll even play hockey!”

Alisha pats her stomach. “I kind of think it’s a girl.”

“No fucking way.” Miles shakes his head, and her smile fades. “My T levels are too high to make girls!”

“And my condoms are too impenetrable to make anything.” Lance raises his glass, and Kennedy and Owen both toast to that.

I would raise my ginger ale, but even all of my lying has to end somewhere.

“Pregnant at a cocktail lounge.” Alisha shakes her head and smiles at me. “What was I thinking?”

“That’s okay, you can order a ginger ale like Callie.” Kennedy rolls her eyes. “It’s all she drinks these days, apparently.”

“Really?” Alisha asks. “Me too. I can’t seem to stomach anything else.”

And with that, I can no longer stomach this conversation.

“Excuse me.” I scoot my chair back and make my way to the bathroom. I hear another chair scrape across the floor andassume it’s Kennedy. She stands firmly by the rule that no woman can public restroom alone. But just as I step into the narrow hallway off the main dining area, Owen calls out.

“Callie, wait up.” He pants as he comes to a stop. “You were booking it out of there.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t feel very good.”

“You okay?” He presses his hand to my forehead, and I want to sink against it and let him hold me up.

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