Chapter 7
MARISSA
By the time the wheels hit the runway at JFK, my whole body felt like it had been put through the wringer. Although I was more tired than I ever remembered being, I’d barely slept during the ten-hour flight. Even with the unexpected upgrade to first class, I just couldn’t get comfortable.
The touchdown jolted me forward in my seat, and my stomach lurched. Nausea had become a constant, unwelcome travel companion, and the turbulence only made it worse.
I closed my eyes and breathed slowly through my nose. I was finally home.
Except nothing about me felt the same as when I’d left.
The pilot’s voice filtered into the cabin as everyone stood, impatient and jostling for overhead bins. I stayed seated a moment longer, bracing both hands on the armrests until the plane door opened.
My legs wobbled when I stood. I grabbed my carry-on and walked with the crowd through the jet bridge. Every step reminded me that my body wasn’t just tired—it was different in a way no one else could see.
Baggage claim was loud and chaotic. Normally, the noise would have grounded me after a long international flight. Today, it barely reached me through the fog of exhaustion.
When I made it to the cab line, my phone pinged with a few notifications. The first was a text from the man I hadn’t been able to get off my mind.
Raiden
You’re back.
My breath hitched. I hadn’t even given him my flight number, but there wasn’t a hint of doubt in those two words.
I tightened my grip on my suitcase handle so hard my knuckles ached. Him somehow knowing exactly when I returned to New York without having to tell him made me feel wanted. Claimed, even.
But his message was also a reminder of the news I needed to share with him.
I typed a reply.
Deleted it.
Tried again.
Erased that too.
I’d been struggling with what to say to him ever since I saw those two little pink lines. I finally gave up and went with the simplest response possible.
Me
Yes.
I made it to the front of the line before he replied and climbed into the cab, sinking against the seat as the driver pulled away from the curb. My reflection looked pale and tired in the window, and I rested a hand over my abdomen without thinking.
Now that I was almost home, my exhaustion overtook me, and I fell asleep. When the driver announced we’d arrived, I startled hard enough that my stomach twisted again.
“Sorry,” I muttered, using the app to pay before hauling myself and my suitcase onto the sidewalk.
The chill slapped me awake for all of two seconds. It didn’t help much. I was still wiped when I rolled my suitcase into my apartment. Every muscle in my body felt stretched too thin.
When I pushed my door open, the faint scent of stale air greeted me. I stepped inside and felt weird that everything looked the same while I felt completely different.
My phone rang before I even set down my tote bag. I nearly dropped it when I saw my boss’s name.
“Marissa Crane.”
“Hey, Marissa!” Roger greeted. “How was the trip?”
“Long,” I admitted, sinking onto the edge of my bed. My mattress dipped under me, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down and never get up again.
“Well, all that work paid off. The coverage was fantastic. Upper management is thrilled.”
I barely resisted the urge to sprawl on top of my comforter. “That’s great to hear.”
“We want to start testing you on some bigger sports pieces.” He paused for effect. “Football segments. Maybe some baseball when the season starts. Think you can handle that?”
A surge of excitement perked me up.
“Wow,” I managed. “That’s…amazing.”
“Fans loved your banter with Raiden Shaffer. We’re planning to lean into that momentum for your next assignments.”
“Right,” I murmured, my throat tightening.
I was about to tell that same tight end I was pregnant with his baby after our one night together, and the network was already trying to turn us into a marketing angle before they knew we would be forever connected.
He rattled on about next steps and scheduling, but the words blurred. By the time we hung up, I felt like someone had wrung me out and left me on the floor to dry.
I set my phone aside and dropped backward onto my comforter, staring at the ceiling. My throat burned, and the urge to cry hit so hard that I had to press the heels of my palms against my eyes just to keep the tears in.
It was all too much. The jet lag. The hormones. The job pressure. The secret I was carrying around inside me.
When I finally sat up again, I noticed I had a new text from Raiden that had come in while I was asleep in the cab.
My heart tightened painfully as I opened it.
Raiden
Tonight. My place.
My hand shook as I typed back the only thing I could manage.
Me
Okay.
Meeting at his penthouse was probably for the best. Now that there wasn’t an ocean between us, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to tell him whether I was ready or not.
My stomach turning, I exhaled unsteadily and whispered into the empty room, “Please don’t hate me.”
I sat on the edge of my bed for a long minute after sending that text, staring at my one-word reply and seriously contemplating just calling him and blurting everything out before my nerves made me physically sick. But I knew that wasn’t the right way to handle this. Raiden deserved more from me.
I pushed to my feet before I started spiraling again. If I stayed still any longer, I’d crawl under the covers and disappear until morning. And I couldn’t do that. Not today.
My suitcase was by the door, so I dragged it toward the closet and dug through to the bottom, searching for my makeup bag.
Then I took a long, hot shower, shaving and exfoliating myself until I actually felt semi-human again.
And ready for whatever Raiden might want to do if he reacted the way I’d dared to hope when I wasn’t worried about the worst-case scenario.
A shudder raced down my spine as I remembered waking up sobbing from a nightmare when he’d told me how much he hated me.
At least I wouldn’t be able to torture myself with all the possible outcomes of this conversation anymore. I’d finally know.
First, I needed to find the perfect outfit. Although it was too early for the pregnancy to show, between the breast tenderness and bloating, I’d been having a difficult time picking what to wear over the past week.
Rifling through the hangers, I tugged out a soft sweater and a pair of high-waisted jeans and held them up, trying to imagine facing Raiden in them.
Immediately, I hated both.
I rummaged again, pulling out a black top with a neckline that emphasized my curves and dark jeans that hugged my legs without squeezing my too-sensitive stomach.
That felt safer. More put-together. And definitely didn’t scream “I’m pregnant.
” Not that clothes could even do that this early, but I wanted to look good tonight.
My hands shook as I changed. Twice, I had to stop and breathe through the nausea that kept rolling through me in waves. Part pregnancy, part nerves, and part fear that I was about to ruin the possibility of a future with Raiden.
I needed to stay busy or I’d unravel completely, so I spent the next two hours unpacking, doing laundry, ordering groceries, and getting caught up on emails.
Then I brushed out my hair, stopping halfway through twisting it into a ponytail.
Raiden had tugged it loose the night we were together.
His fingers had slid through the strands as though he couldn’t get enough of touching me. So I left it down.
Doing my makeup felt like a lost cause. My eyes were still puffy from exhaustion, and my skin was too pale, no matter how much concealer I dabbed on.
But I tried. If I was going to tell a man like Raiden he’d accidentally gotten me pregnant, the least I could do was not show up looking like I was falling apart.
The sun had already started to set by the time I finally stepped into my boots, and I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror. I looked more like myself. But inside, I knew I stood on the edge of something that would change my entire life.
My stomach roiled as I grabbed my phone and purse. It had only been four hours since Raiden told me to come to his place, but it felt like so much longer.
I locked my apartment door behind me, and everything felt wrong. The hallway seemed too quiet, the elevator too slow, and the street outside too loud.
As I walked toward the curb to call a cab, my hand drifted once more to my abdomen, my fingers brushing the spot where a new life was growing.
Then a cab pulled up, and I was finally on my way to deliver the news I’d been carrying alone for a week.