Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,33

hot. Despite all odds, and some patchy birth control taking, he'd impregnated me with his super sperm, so hearing my name on his lips made me feel like warm putty.

"I guess ... I guess I need to know if you want to help. If you want to be in this with me."

It was the last thing I wanted to ask, but parental abandonment issues were a bit of a hot spot for me. For all my sisters.

Our dad, much older than our mom, died of a heart attack when we were young. I hardly remembered him; other than pictures I'd seen. But our mom decided one day that being a single parent of four after her golden meal ticket was gone just wasn't something she wanted anymore. Brooke had dumped us on Logan's front porch, and in truth, it was the best thing she could have done for me and my sisters. Logan, and later, his wife, Paige, gave us the family we had now. They were my people—the small army, as Jude had put it—who would always have my back.

And just like me, they'd never allow for a child—my child—to be treated as a prop for someone's vanity.

So, if Jude didn't want to play Daddy, he better speak the hell up now before this kid came out.

"I do want to be in this," he said. "I reckon I've got time to wrap my head around it, eh?"

I gave him a smile. "Yeah."

Neither of us brought up the fact that my life was on the opposite side of the world. Or that we'd need legal agreements up the wazoo, due to the nature of his job. That someday, we'd need custody agreements and child support discussions.

All the thoughts made my stomach seize up uncomfortably.

With two hands, I mentally shoved all that shit down.

"Do you need to see a doctor?" he asked.

I blinked. "I don't know, actually. I did some googling, but I can't tell if I qualify for the NHS free coverage since I'm only visiting for a semester."

"I'll make a call."

His calm assurance was enough to steady my stomach and bubbling nerves at all the unknowns. And when we said our goodbyes outside of Sheila's cafe, he walked me back to the Tube station with a promise that someone would contact me.

It set the precedent, a small step in the right direction of how the next couple of weeks unfolded. I didn't see him because his game schedule was packed (apparently they had like ... forty different cup tournaments they played in outside of regular league play. Don't even ask me because I was still trying to understand).

Me: Okay, I'll concede that penalty shootouts are exciting. WAY better than a tie. You have to admit those are stupid.

Me: Nice goal, BTW. I like how you faked out the goalie.

Jude: Those are the rules, love. That's why the points matter.

Me: Yeah, what's up with that too? You can like, get DEMOTED. Y'all are savage.

Jude: That's what makes it exciting. I'll convert you yet.

Jude: How was the appointment with the doctor?

Me: Good. It's too early to hear the heartbeat or do an ultrasound or anything, so we just went over good eating and talked about morning sickness and stuff. She took all my vitals. My blood pressure was a little high, though.

Jude: Was it? Is that normal for you?

Me: Well, I was afraid to touch anything because the office was so FREAKING fancy, and also, I'm pretty sure I saw Victoria Beckham in there. Or her doppelganger. Did you send me to the nicest doctor in England or something?

Jude: I asked our team doctor for a rec. They said they'd send me the bill, yeah?

Me: No one asked me for a single penny. Or a pound. Whatever.

Me: I do have money, though. I don't expect you to pay for everything.

Jude: Sorry, had to go into training and then meet with my manager.

Me: Running into a meeting with my professor. She's about to rip my outline to shreds.

Jude: No worries. Maybe we can connect next week?

Me: My turn to apologize. This week has been crazy. I was right about the outline.

Jude: What does that mean? You start over?

Me: No, I just need to dig deeper.

Jude: Will I understand your answer if I ask what you're diving deeper into?

Me: Charlotte Brontë's educational and employment history and how it influenced the conceptual presence of female independence in her work.

Jude: Right then.

Me: Basically, she hated her job and wrote about it because she hated that