Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,77

at the hotel with the team, so I booked a room at the same hotel you're staying at. If you want, I can come to your room in the morning, or I'm in 327 whenever you want to talk.

I shook my head. "Pushy-ass footballer, used to getting his way."

"What?" Isabel looked over my shoulder. "Oh my gosh, he did not."

Standing up, I risked a glance in the mirror and cringed.

"It's not that bad," Isabel said.

I pointed at my face.

She grimaced. "Okay, you get a little splotchy when you cry. But if you plan to talk to him now? A plus for impact, I'll tell you that."

Rolling my eyes, I tapped out a text to Jude telling him I was on my way to his room.

"You sure you want to go there?" Iz asked.

I nodded. "It gives me control of when I want to leave. I don't want to have to ask him to go ... if it goes badly."

"Want me to come with you?" It was a token invite; I could see it on her face. I knew and she knew I needed to do this myself. "I can wait out in the hall, if you just ... want to know I'm out there."

I smiled, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "No, but thank you. I'll be back soon."

When the hotel door closed behind me, I took a moment to take a deep breath before I went down the flight of stairs that separated his room from ours. There was no magical moment when I knew what I should say to him, the first moment of reckoning between Jude and me.

Actually, I realized, that wasn't precisely true. We'd had one before. When I told him I was pregnant, and in that split second before he could filter his reaction, the words that came out were selfish. Thoughtless.

And the words that came out of mine were angry.

Yes, I could understand his reaction, given the nature of his job. And I could understand mine because no one wanted to be called a lying ho. But as I walked down the hallway, I knew the inescapable truth. Our instincts in this, the desires that ruled our reactions, that ruled our interactions and tangible chemistry, needed work. At least if we were ever going to co-parent in a healthy way.

Co-parent. No more sleeping together. No more making out on his couch. No more holidays in the English countryside.

A few stray tears escaped the corner of my eye when I thought about all of those things, and how I'd allowed them to cloud my judgment for months, simply because we had a talent for making each other feel good. Making each other forget.

When I arrived at his door, I let out a slow breath. Before I could even raise my fist to knock, he swung it open. Jude, in just the short time since I saw him at the pub, looked wrecked.

His hair was a mess, like he'd been running his hands through it.

"Lia," he exhaled, "I'm so bloody sorry."

Without a word, I walked into his room but didn't sit. He stood across from me after the door enclosed us into the space together.

“I’m sorry too,” I told him. “I shouldn’t have run like that.” I tilted my head at him. "What are you sorry for?"

He blinked. "F-for my parents. That was ... well, it was awful."

Nodding, I gave him a careful study. The words, it seemed, were there, right when I needed them. "It was. They shouldn't speak to you that way, and I can only imagine how badly that's hurt you over the years."

He averted his gaze. "Doesn't hurt me anymore. They lost that power years ago."

Denial and shame often went hand in hand. One of the random things I remembered about helping Claire study for some of her psych classes. I was familiar with both because there were so many things I hadn't told him either, all the ugly parts of my own past. The fears I'd confided in Isabel had still been held out of reach for this man I'd been falling in love with, and I couldn't ignore that anymore.

"Jude, I need to know something important."

"Anything," he answered fervently.

That fervency had me tearing up again. I didn't want him to make this harder by being amenable. I didn't want to ask him these questions, but that was the point. It wasn't about me anymore. I slid my hand up over my belly, and his eyes tracked the