Page 62 of The Pucking Fake Boyfriend

And I want to hear Brit say the words I’m thinking. There’s no better way to get this figured out.

But Britney is silent.

“Tell me,” I press, a burst of impatience forcing me to thrust into her again. The fact that she’s gotten a little wetter is not lost on me. For a moment, I think about continuing to screw her until I come hard. But then, when Imull over how gray those weeks had been, I manage to hold back.

“Come on,” I say, my impatience growing. My dick is still inside her, and it’s getting harder to focus on her words. “Tell me. Now.”

Britney is still silent.

Frustrated, I pull her even harder against me. “I’m not going to let you come until you say something, Brit. Drop the silent act and talk.”

She lets out a whimper. The next minute, she’s elbowing me in the stomach. I let go of her, and she hops off the couch and turns toward me. There are tears running down her cheeks, and I realize with horror that these are not tears of delight.

She’s in pain.

“You think I’m just pulling the silent act? Well then, fuck you.”

I stare at her, stunned. I’ve never seen Brit unhinged like this.

“You want the truth?” she continues, almost shrieking. “Well here goes. Are you ready?” She stops and waits for me to give her a bewildered nod.

“I had my life figured out. Before you inserted yourself into it, that is. Silly to think I could control my feelings. And now, my plan is in shambles. I stupidly allowed myself to fall in love with you.” She pauses, looking at me defiantly.

“And I’m also pregnant. There. That’s why I ghosted you. And I know you, Alex Steinman. This is not going to be one of those happily-ever-afters.”

My veins are suddenly overflowing with heavy lead. It leaves me unable to move, talk, or even see.

In love.

Pregnant.

I’d assumed that Brit would give a stiff speech about howwe didn’t need to see each other anymore. It would hurt, and I would have to walk out of her apartment while already dreaming up ways to avoid her for the next few years. I’d go on a fuck binge, go through a dozen women, and find a way to convince myself that this was for the best, especially since it meant I wasn’t going to lose Blake as a friend.

Not even in my wildest dreams would I have assumed this.

Even if I was in a complete state of physical and mental withdrawal from her over the past few weeks, even if I could not imagine spending the next few years without her, even if I loved her. I was not a riding-into-the-sunset kind of guy. And the thought of building a home, with a child on the way, filled me with terror. Alongside the thought of what it would do to my friendship with Blake if he found out about it.

I back away from her. She’s no longer looking at me, and I’m relieved.

It’s going to make this much easier.

I pull my pants back on. She’s turning away, unable to bear hearing what she already knows I’m about to say.

Pain flashes through my chest. I can’t bear to say it either.

But it’s the best outcome for both of us.

“Goodbye, Brit,” I say, and walk away.

CHAPTER 21

BRITNEY

I’ve been in my father’s office a million times, but I’ve never felt the sense of intense déjà vu as I do now.

Maybe because I’ve never before walked into his office knowing it’s the last time.

He’s at his desk, typing hard on his computer. I watch him for a moment, wondering if he’s drafting up a memo for the team. Or if he’s sending another email to Andy Furman. Last week, Blake told me our dad has been messaging the Furmans for more than a month without reply. Perhaps because he’s no longer got a sparkling white daughter to trade.

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