Chapter 33 Nova
nova
Somehow, after years of trying to convince her, I’d finally managed to get Luna to set up her own social media account.
What looked like overnight success had actually taken sixteen weeks after we got back from the Cotswolds on New Year’s for her following to explode, and now, months later, she was completely viral.
It still didn’t feel real how fast it had happened.
“Are you ready to celebrate one million followers on the app?”
Luna laughed, plopping down beside me and tapping her legs. Without hesitation, I lifted my swollen feet, and she started rubbing them.
“Ew. I hate that,” she said with a scrunched nose. “I’m just like everyone else. I don’t know why people want to suddenly learn yoga from me.”
I smirked. I knew exactly why. Luna would transition seamlessly into poses while sharing her wild dating stories in a new country, combining chaos and grace in a way only she could. It was refreshing, relatable, and absolutely hilarious.
“Have you spent any of the money yet?”
“No.”
There was a long pause between us. Every day, without fail, Luna asked if I’d spent any of the money Austin had sent me.
And every day, my answer was the same—I hadn’t touched it.
He’d set it aside in a separate account before he left, but after everything happened, I transferred it again.
Just in case. A buffer I never planned to use.
Not long after we left the Cotswolds, Luna and I moved into Ollie’s place in London.
With the ridiculously low rent Ollie was charging us and the end-of-season bonus coming in, I was managing.
The money would probably go toward nursery fees when I went back to work after the baby, but at the moment, I was doing fine on my own.
Luna was thriving, especially with new money and partnerships coming in faster than she could process. She had to hire a management company.
“You still haven’t heard from him?” Luna asked, breaking the silence.
I shook my head. “No. Ollie and I are meeting with Peter to discuss the paparazzi photos. We need to decide which one to release to the news to sell the story that I’m pregnant and we’re dating.”
Luna raised a brow. “But you two are dating.”
I kicked her leg lightly. She retaliated with a slap to the bottom of my foot, and I yelped.
“Ouch. I’m thirty-eight weeks, take pity on me.”
She rolled her eyes but leaned forward to rub my very swollen stomach. Her hands were warm and soothing as she traced small circles.
“Not until you figure out what you’re going to name my daughter.” Her grin was wicked as she poked at the side of my bump.
“Back to your point,” I said, avoiding the naming question because I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to name her.
Somehow, in the last couple weeks, I’d gotten a car seat, organized the nursery, and filed all necessary paperwork with work, but naming her was too personal. “I am not dating Ollie.”
Luna laughed again, her grin widening as I stood up, throwing my hands on my hips in an attempt to look authoritative. “Seriously, Lune.”
“Alright, fine.” She raised her hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t realize sleeping in his bed—”
“His bed is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slept on, and those orthopedic pillows are a godsend. Plus, he helps me up every morning so I’m not stuck rolling around like a stranded turtle all day.”
“Or going to dinner with him every Friday,” she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“That’s an easy one,” I shot back. “We have late meetings on Fridays, and by the time we’re done, I’m starving. Dinner makes sense.”
Luna arched a brow, her grin turning downright depraved. “And the pièce de résistance—you fuck him all the time.”
“I do not.”
I absolutely do. All the time. Daily.
Fuck.
Luna didn’t even bother to hide her knowing smirk.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “We are dating, aren’t we?”
She stared at me, her look practically screaming Duh.
I groaned, flopping back onto the sofa. “Why am I like this?”
“Because you’re in love, and it terrifies you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come. Was this what real, nontoxic, supportive love felt like? Not obsessive or consuming. Just . . . good?
He showed up. He supported me without asking for anything in return. He never made me feel like I had to perform or prove my worth. That was why I kept second-guessing everything because I didn’t know how to exist in love that didn’t cost me parts of myself.
“Ugh,” I sat up. “I gotta get going.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
She reached out and grabbed my stomach. “Let your mum have this photo first before you come out. She’s a procrastinator.”
I narrowed my eyes at Luna, and she laughed as I grabbed my bag and headed out of her apartment toward the street. Since we were farther from the stadium, I bought a car a couple months ago. Though Ollie insisted he could be my chauffeur, I liked my independence.
I drove to the stadium, the familiar streets blurring into the background as my thoughts wandered.
I should’ve been more scared. Any day, I could have this little girl in my arms, my life forever changed.
I should’ve been sadder too, weighed down by all the uncertainty, the lingering shadows of my past, and wondering if I’d ever be like Mami.
But I wasn’t.
These last few months were . . . different. Everything felt like Ollie did. Warm. Grounded. Safe.
I hadn’t spiraled into the depression I’d half expected to drown me. Instead, I was lighter, like the pieces of my life had finally started to fall into place. Sure, the worries lingered at the edges, the doubts whispering in the quieter moments, but they didn’t consume me the way they once had.
Ollie’s presence had been constant, steady, and unwavering. He didn’t try to fix me or push me to talk when I didn’t want to. He was there when I needed him, offering a quiet strength that seeped into every part of my life.
I parked the car outside the stadium and sat for a moment, resting my hands on the steering wheel as the gentle movement of my baby reminded me I wasn’t alone. Something stirred in me—something I hadn’t known in a long time.
Hope.
With a steadying breath, I opened the door and stepped out.
“Hey, love.”
I turned to find Ollie in a pair of joggers that hung low on his hips and a tight shirt that clung to his chest, every muscle rippling beneath the fabric.
It had to be the pregnancy hormones. There was no other explanation for the way my mind went to stripping him naked right here in the parking lot, pressing him against the car, and begging him to fuck me until I couldn’t think straight.
He smiled, his brown eyes soft and filled with that familiar warmth, oblivious to the sinful thoughts running through my head. “You alright?”
“Fine,” I managed, though my voice came out a little higher than usual, my cheeks heating as I quickly glanced away. Just fine. Totally fine.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead and rubbed my belly. “How’re my girls doing?”
My girls. He’d been asking me that every single night, and every night it made me both so uncomfortable that I wanted to run away and so comfortable that I wanted to give him a hug and cry. Pregnancy was weird. Hormones were strange. So was this depression.
“I’m good. Ready to talk to Peter?”
I’d brought him in to ensure everything was airtight. The goal was simple: coordinate with a discreet, mid-level paparazzo who’d capture a few staged photos of Ollie and me, giving the appearance of a casual, romantic stroll through town.
It was all about optics. The story we’d sell would solidify that Ollie and I were together and that the baby was part of our happy little narrative. If anyone went digging, they’d find a seamless, polished version of the truth, and there’d be no room for speculation.
I had to make sure Peter was fully on board and that the execution would be flawless. This wasn’t about my privacy; it was about protecting everyone involved, including my job with the team.
Fingers laced in mine, Ollie and I walked inside the large office building. As we passed the bathroom, he laughed and pointed. “Remember?”
I giggled, the memory of our chaotic first meeting flashing through my mind. “How could I forget?”
We continued down the hall to the conference room, where Peter was waiting for us.
“Come in,” Peter said, holding the door open as we stepped inside.
I scanned the room and froze when I saw a familiar face standing at the end of the table. My hand dropped from Ollie’s as I took a step forward.
“Iris?” I blinked as my mouth gaped.
It was her—my old boss, standing there as if she belonged in this room. My mind raced, trying to piece together why she was here, of all places. Ollie glanced between us, his brow raised, clearly waiting for an explanation.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. “What are you doing here?”
I shook myself out of my shock and ran toward Iris, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I can’t believe this. What’re you doing here?”
Iris smiled, pulling back and guiding me to sit in the chair beside her. “When I heard Peter’s favorite employee was going on maternity leave, I had to come see for myself.”
“Oh, right,” I said with a soft laugh, patting my belly.
Iris’s expression shifted, more serious, but playful. “Leave.” She waved a hand at the boys.
I whirled in my chair. “This is my old boss, Ollie. Can you give us a second?”
Ollie furrowed his brow. “Alright.” He glanced at Peter, and the two of them stepped out, leaving Iris and me alone.
She reached her hand toward me, and I took it. “I’ve missed my favorite employee.”
“I can’t say I miss Chicago much,” I replied, flicking my eyes to the one-way glass, where Ollie stood on the other side. Turning back to Iris, I hesitated, then blurted, “The baby is Austin’s.”