Chapter Twenty-Six
DARCY
Pregnancy is not fun. Sure, it’s a blessing in so many ways, but right now, as I lie here, trying to sleep past the banging in my temples and sporadic plummets in blood pressure—which are apparently normal as my body adapts to growing a baby—I’m thinking I’ve had better mornings.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to grab a few more hours of sleep. It’s not even light outside, and I don’t have work, making today the perfect opportunity to recharge my batteries.
Only the harder I try to rest, the more elusive sleep becomes. The only time I pass out and sleep well is in a certain boy’s bed—that fact isn’t lost on me. And neither are his words from last night.
“Your brain is built to break codes and mysteries. Mine is designed to care for you and our child.”
Warmth floods my belly, and I dip a hand underneath my silk top—another set Archer bought me—palming my stomach.
“It’s all going to be okay, Pipsqueak,” I whisper into my darkened room, smiling at the nickname Archer gave to them. “He’s going to stand by us.”
It’s the first time I’ve spoken to my baby, and despite feeling like utter crap, I guess it’s the first time I’ve really felt a connection to my new reality—I’m pregnant, and in a little over thirty-four weeks, I’ll be a mum.
I crack my eyes open, peering around my bedroom.
In the faint lighting coming in from the street, I see my disorganized dresser, makeup bottles and products strewn across the top in a haphazard fashion.
My shoes and coats are scattered around the room, some jackets hanging from my closet door, others piled on top of a single chair in the corner.
I need to get my shit together. Literally. I also need to work out what the hell I’m going to do about my living arrangements. A one-bedroom apartment isn’t going to cut it.
Overwhelmed at all the challenges I have to face, I roll onto my back and exhale a long breath into the room. “It’s going to be okay, Darcy. All of it.”
“Do you frequently make a habit of talking to yourself?”
A voice rips my soul clean from my body, and I almost tumble out of bed.
“Whoa! What the fuck?!” I panic, reaching out to my side table and flicking on a lamp.
“Relax, Babe. It’s just me, Jenna.” She chuckles, sitting up in bed, wearing one of my silky hair caps and an eye mask.
She pulls the mask off and looks at me, grinning. “Seriously, before you started rambling on, I was sound asleep. These masks are a game changer.”
I giggle and point to the cap she’s wearing. “You think the masks are good? Wait until you style your hair later.” I offer a chef’s kiss. “No crunchy ends or dry hair. Only smooth, salon-worthy locks.”
She snorts a laugh. “Shame my new look will be wasted in a messy bun at practice later today.”
I stretch, lifting my arms above my head. “Yeah, that sucks.” I pause and look across at my friend as she takes a sip of water. “You stayed overnight.”
She nods once, replacing her glass on the side table. “I did. After Sawyer dropped us back, I wasn’t comfortable leaving you.” Jenna turns to look at me, only intrigue and kindness in her eyes. “I’m not quite sure how best to put this, but can I ask you something?”
Holding her gaze, I have a pretty good idea what’s coming. Especially if she heard me talking to my stomach. “Sure.”
Bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, she chews on it softly. “Darcy … are you …”
“Yes,” I quickly answer, “I am.”
Even in the dim lighting, the sun only just starting to rise in the Brooklyn sky, I see the way her eyes grow wide, brows raised into her hairline.
“Oh my God,” she declares, gaze dropping to my stomach. “Is it Archer’s?”
I nod my head, an unexpected sheen covering my eyes. It’s a strange sense of relief to tell someone, especially Jenna, who I know I can trust. Even if I hadn’t planned to tell anyone soon, apart from Mum, I’ve never been more grateful to be caught talking to myself.
Her hand reaches across the duvet, one little finger wrapping around mine. “How many weeks are you?”
“Just shy of six, although I’ll have a better idea at the eight-week scan.”
“Wow,” she breathes out softly. “No wonder you aren’t showing yet. My mom didn’t start showing with my brother Holt until she was, like, fourteen weeks—or so she tells me.”
A stretch of silence passes between us before I speak again.
“Only you and Archer know. I plan to tell Mum and maybe the rest of the girls since you all know about our fuck-buddy arrangement. But that’s how it’s staying until at least twelve weeks.”
She picks up her water, taking another drink but holding on to the glass this time, almost like she’s caressing it. “I won’t ask how Archer took the news since I already know he’s in love with you.”
I balk at her directness and certainty. “He’s got feelings for me, yes. I’m not sure it’s lo?—”
“He’s in love with you,” she immediately repeats. “The way he looks at you melts my bones to jelly.”
And mine.
Jenna says it like she’s craving the same thing, and on instinct, I move my hand over the top of hers.
When things broke down with her ex, Lee, I know she took it harder than she let on.
Jenna wants a love story of her own, and here I am, with a man at my feet and his baby in my womb.
Yet all I wanted in the beginning was fun.
“He’ll look after you and the baby. We’ll all be there with you.” She looks at me. “If you decide to keep it.”
“I am keeping it. I considered the alternative for a while, but when Archer stepped up to support me, I knew I could do it. My mind has been reeling since I found out, but I’m not as scared anymore.”
Like it’s suddenly registering, she pops her jaw open. “ Oh fuck . Jack.”
I nod once. “Yeah. Jack. And Jon.”
Jenna winces, slipping under the duvet like she’s hiding from the thought of their reaction.
“That isn’t going to be pretty.” Like a yo-yo, she sits bolt upright this time.
“Holy shit! Jack … he thinks Archer is dating a girl named Abbie.” She points at me and then my stomach.
“But you’re really Abbie, and now you’re … you’re …”
“Yep,” I quip. “Although it looks a bit bad, Archer didn’t deliberately lie to Jack about Abbie. He made an assumption that Archer was dating, and he’s sort of let my brother run with it. Only now I’m pregnant, and our secret hookup arrangement is going to get out, which was never the plan.”
She snorts, kicking her feet out in front of her. “Seriously though, Babe, you might be a single mom after all when Jack finds out.”
I shrug. “What’s done is done. Archer and I will tell him when the time is right, and he’ll have to deal with it.”
She drops her head between her shoulders, sighing. I don’t like the way it sounds or perhaps what’s going to leave her mouth next.
“I know sports aren’t your thing, but it’s a little more complicated than that.
These guys thrive on trust and respect, especially in team sports like soccer, football, and hockey.
” She rolls her lips together, discomfort all over her face.
“Then factor in a new GM for the Blades and the fact that your stepdad is the coach. Shit. This could rip the dynamics apart.”
My blood runs cold. I get where she’s coming from, but I never considered the seriousness of our situation. “What are you trying to say, Jenna?” I ask, needing her to be direct with me.
Her brows crease together. “I’m saying this is the kind of stuff a lot of teams don’t come back from. Not unless …” She trails off, and panic swirls in my gut.
“Jenna,” I plead, “finish what you were going to say.”
She clears her throat. “If the boys can’t work it out or if the new GM is an asshole, I’m just saying I’ve seen shit like this force a player to leave.”
“Like, be traded?” My voice shakes.
With regret laced in her features, she nods.
“Yes. And given your brother is the assistant captain and pretty much the MVP these days, I’d say Archer would be the one forced out.
Sure, goalies are hard to come by, but the AHL team in Connecticut has a good alternative, and normally, they’re on two-way contracts so someone can step into the NHL whenever needed. ”
I go to speak right as my phone lights up with an alert from my smart doorbell.
The one Archer had fitted.
I turn and pick it up, unlocking the screen.
“Who is it?” she asks.
Against the odds and with everything Jenna just told me, an involuntary smile pulls at my lips when I turn the phone to show her the camera. “Speak of the devil.”