Page 105 of Puck Princess

“Why’s that?” He presses the conversation as I press into his neck.

“Because! It’s crazy.”

“Oh, you’re right. You’ve only been dating for months, are clearly in love, are living together and having a baby. Where would I get the crazy idea that you might want to spend your lives together?”

My mind is still caught on something else he said.

“Owen is in love with me?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Clearly.”

“Did he say that?” I’m whisper-yelling, but I don’t know why. Again, we are alone.

“Not flat out, no. But I can tell. He’s my best friend.”

I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved. I keep massaging, my thoughts circling around the idea.

It’s not like I’m completely oblivious. I know Owen likes me. Enough has happened between us to make that incredibly clear. But love is… something else. We’re floating in the gray space between like and love, waiting for the shift that will send us one way or the other.

A small part of me thinks the baby will be that shift. Once we have a kid together, we’ll either sink or swim. If last night was any indication—which I pray to all heavenly beings it was not—we might be heading straight to the bottom.

“Why is that such a touchy subject for you?” Lance asks.

“The M-word or the L-word?” I ask. Because apparently, I am a teenager.

“Both.”

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it. Close it.

How do I tell Lance about my past with Spencer and the blackmail against Kennedy and my baggage with my own parents that makes me think true love might not exist at all?

Easy: I don’t.

“Next topic,” I decide.

“God,” Lance groans. “When the two of you pull your heads out of your asses, you’re gonna see how simple this all is. You’re good for each other, you like each other. It’s easy. Owen won’t admit it, to you or me or anyone, but he’s needed someone like you in his life for a long time.”

I bark out a laugh. “Nothing about our relationship has been easy, and as much as I might not regret it, I’ve brought nothing but chaos into his life.”

“Forget about the press. That shit comes with the job,” he says. “Owen’s problem has always been that he’s not always good at seeing what’s best for himself. You remind him that he matters, too. Which is why I think you’ll get married. And why you should name your baby after me.”

Again, my mouth flops open and closed like a fish, trying and failing to come up with something to say. Thankfully, my phone buzzes, interrupting my unending silence. It’s Kennedy.

I answer it like the lifeline it is. “Hey, I’m working. What’s up?”

“We are going out tonight.” Her voice, though not on speaker, is loud and energetic.

“You called me at work to tell me that?”

Lance sits up on the bed, snatching my wrist so he can shout into my phone. “Hey Kennedy!”

She sighs in disgust, but ignores him. “I wanted to make sure you don’t have other plans.”

“I don’t know if I do. I’ll have to ask Owen.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I missed the part where Owen became your keeper.” The judgment in her voice is thick, and she makes no effort to hide it. “Listen, I want to do something fun tonight with my cousin. You used to be my roommate, but now you’re my neighbor—and not even the kind of neighbors who swap gossip and share sugar. I miss you. So I don’t care what your new roommate slash baby daddy?—”

“Slash future husband,” Lance whispers way too loudly. I swat at him.

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