Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,68

done with your paper, right?"

I nodded. "Just making some finishing touches on the end. But ... Atwood's notes on my draft were lighter than I expected, so I think I'll finish early."

"Just be careful." She tucked her arm through mine as the line moved. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, okay? Being a single parent is hard enough without adding drama with the hot baby daddy footballer."

I wanted to laugh but didn't. For the first time in a long time, I thought about our mother. Briefly, at the beginning of my pregnancy, I kept looping around the idea that I might be bad at being a mom simply because I was born to someone bad at being a mom. But the distraction of Jude and our relationship had kept those questions at bay.

"You don't think being a bad parent is like, in the gene pool, right?" I asked. I tried to say it sarcastically, but instead, my voice sounded reed-thin and wispy, easily carried away by the cold wind. And not like Isabel could know it, but I thought about Jude's parents too. How hard his mom had been on him. I mean, yeah, stopping by that way wasn't his best idea, but she could hardly hide her disdain.

My hand went to my belly. Little peach could make facial expressions now, I'd read. How weird, right? Nothing to see, muted voices and jumbled movements, and as Isabel and I stood there, they might be smiling.

"Uhh, no." She gave me a weird look. "Are you being serious? Lia—"

I held up my hand. "I was kidding. I just meant, you know, sleeping with him when we haven't even talked about like, custody or any of that."

I wasn't actually kidding, but I refused to ruin this day of exploring London with my sister. Impulsively, I leaned in and gave her a tight, bruising squeeze.

"I'm glad it was you who came to visit."

She pulled back and turned away before I could see her face. She cleared her throat a little, and her eyes were red when she faced me again. "Damn straight. I'm going to be the favorite aunt."

I laughed. "That's what Molly said."

Iz rolled her eyes. "Please. I've got this one in the bag."

We moved closer to the entrance. "Ready for your first football match tomorrow?"

"Oh, my Lord," she teased, "he's even got you calling it football, not soccer. He must have a magic penis."

I shoved her. "Ugh, who invited you here?"

Isabel laughed. "Yes, I'm very ready for my first match. I probably shouldn't tell him I was rooting for Liverpool last week when they played, huh?"

"Probably not." I eyed her. "Why?"

"Amy is a huge fan. She always has the TVs at the gym turned to the matches when Liverpool plays."

I grinned, thinking of Isabel's boss. "Is she still going to sell the gym?"

Isabel's shoulders slumped. "Yes. I'm so sad. She's like my Yoda, you know? And who knows who she’ll sell it to. They could be an asshole or a misogynist or a terrible gym owner. They could fire me because maybe they don't want a manager, and then I'll be destitute and angry because I love my job and don't want to work anywhere else."

I grinned, looping an arm over her shoulders as we turned into the grand, soaring entryway of Kensington Palace to have our bags checked. "Maybe none of those things will happen, and she'll sell it to some hot, mysterious man who'll sweep you off your feet."

Isabel rolled her eyes. "I'd quit before that happened."

"Cheer up, Iz. You don't need to worry about any of that right now." I hooked my purse back over my shoulder when the security guard handed it back with a smile. "Today, we see palaces, and tomorrow, we watch the Shorthorns beat Tottenham."

The security guard snorted.

"What?"

He held his hands up. "You're dreaming, dear. Shepperton is going to get bloody wrecked tomorrow."

"Geez," Isabel muttered. "I thought the British were supposed to be nice."

He winked, tipping his hat at us. "Cheers."

We entered the palace smiling, and I kept my fingers crossed that the mood would carry us over into the next day.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jude

What's the saying about hindsight? Well, mine was twenty-bleedin'-twenty, because I should've known that everything would go to shit when we got kicked from pillar to post by Tottenham. Yeah, we scored two goals, but that only did so much when they scored five.

Their bloody captain, who I had no problem with when he wasn't running my team into the