Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,44

trying to tell you I'm gay."

She swallowed, eyes searching my face. "Okay. Whatever it is ... we're your family."

Lips pursed, I blew out a breath, and ripped off the Band-Aid. "I'm trying to tell you I'm pregnant."

Silence.

For four solid seconds, there was nothing but wide eyes and silence.

"Holy shit," Paige whispered.

"You're what?" Logan asked. "How?"

I raised my eyebrows. Claire choked on a laugh.

His cheeks reddened. "Forget I said that. "

Paige blinked rapidly. "Okay. Okay. I'm ... who? Who? What happened? And when?"

Logan's chest expanded on a deep breath, and I could practically see him shift gears, see the helplessness written all over his face. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I'm good. And Paige, I'm just about ... nine weeks along."

Paige pulled out her phone and started tapping on the screen. "So that was ... pretty much right when you got there."

"Y-yes."

Logan's eyes flipped to my sister. "You knew?"

"Yeah. I was on the phone with her when she took the test a few weeks ago."

He nodded slowly. "That's why you were acting so weird when I asked about her."

Claire laughed. "You know I'm the worst liar."

Paige kept her eyes on her phone, which was when my worry started to grow again. Every second I couldn't see her eyes, it got worse. "Apparently, you're a good secret keeper, though," Paige said evenly.

Logan sighed.

"I asked her to," I said. "I wanted to tell you myself."

"Great," Paige answered. "Now you've told us, and I've got flights up right now. How soon can you pack?"

"I'm not booking a flight home, Paige."

Her hands froze. Logan's eyes closed, but I saw his hand curl tightly around her shoulder.

Paige's face finally lifted, and her eyes were bright with tears. "You're staying?"

"There's no reason I can't finish out the semester."

"You're pregnant, Lia, and in a foreign country and alone. There. That’s three reasons to come home." A tear spilled over her cheek. "You don't have any of us there with you. Have you been sick? I got so sick with Emmett; it was awful. Don't you remember? And I can't i-imagine you in that tiny flat all alone, with no one to bring you crackers and hold your hair like you girls used to when I was pregnant, a-and"—she stopped, hiccupping around a sob—"I hate the thought you're doing this alone when you don't have to."

My own eyes watered, and I curled my fingers into a fist, the sharp edges of my nails providing just enough pain to keep my emotions at bay. "I was only sick for a couple of weeks, but it's better now. I feel okay, Paige, I promise. Just tired. I'm taking my vitamins and eating well and drinking a lot of water." I leaned in, fighting the urge to wrap her in my arms because it was hard seeing the toughest woman I knew this way, out of worry for me. "And I'm not alone."

Logan's jaw clenched. "What's his name? Does he have a job? Is he …" He cleared his throat. "Is he treating you well?"

"His name is Jude McAllister, he's thirty-one, and yes. A very good job, actually. He's the one who set up the doctor, and I'm at his place right now while he's at work. We're ... getting to know each other."

Logan's brow furrowed. "What was the name again?"

"J-Jude McAllister."

His eyes narrowed.

Heeeeeere we go, I thought.

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

Paige glanced at her husband, swiping at her cheeks. "Does it?" Before I could stop her, her fingers started flying across the screen again. The moment she saw it, I knew. Her eyes got huge, and her jaw dropped somewhere to the vicinity of her belly button. "Holy effing shit, Lia, is this him?"

"That Jude McAllister?" Logan yelled. "The footballer Jude McAllister?"

I nodded weakly.

They both stared dumbly at the phone screen, and I could only imagine what headlines and images had popped up.

I mean, Paige could hardly argue with the why of it. He looked (and played) like David Beckham and Tom Brady's DNA were combined in a lab somewhere. And Logan definitely couldn't argue about his ability to financially help with the baby. The Brits were generous with their football players, that was for sure.

Logan dropped his head into his hands. It took a second, but he let out a groan. "I swear, you girls have an athlete radar, and it's going to be the death of me. Couldn't one of you end up with a lawyer or a teacher or a dog trainer or something?"

Claire's hand appeared on the