The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,67

she speaks, her voice is clear and it scrapes at me even more. “The baby and I are going to live here. My mom will come to help me for the first few weeks as I get settled. Then, I’ll look into childcare options although I’m sure once I tell my parents, Mom will offer to watch the baby while I’m at work. When you’re in town, you can come over and spend time with the baby or we can arrange play dates at your house. I won’t get in your way with any girls you’d like to date but I ask that you don’t bring random women around our child. And I’ll do the same. With men, I mean. I—”

I spring up again, cutting her off. “So you’ve got this all figured out, huh?” I grab my wallet and phone off the kitchen table.

“Well, yeah, Noah. I’m the one having the baby. I need to think about—”

“So, what you’re saying is, you really don’t need me, want me, for anything?” I spit out, praying the answer is a strong hell no. Give me something to work with, Indy.

Instead, Indy shrugs.

I chuckle again, striding toward the door. “Whatever, Indy. I guess you don’t need anyone, right? You have all the answers, all the solutions.” I reach for the doorknob, rattling it. My anger pours from my fingertips like hot water. Scalding and burning. Blistering and hurting.

“Where are you going?” Her voice wavers once and I turn around.

“It looks like you’ve got it all figured out. What the hell do you need me for, right? I mean, it’s not like I’m the father or anything,” I bite out, pulling the door wide open. “Call me when you want to have an actual conversation, Indy,” I throw out over my shoulder before storming from her place.

I bound down the stairs, my head thumping. I know I’m being stupid. I should stay and talk to her, talk through this with her. But she doesn’t seem interested in hearing anything I have to say.

She doesn’t seem interested in anything except her goddamn schedule and life plans. None of which include me.

Throw away her career. Create a family. With another fucking man.

Is she out of her mind?

I fume, throwing myself behind the wheel of my car.

I know I messed up when I pushed Indy toward Aiden. But now that she’s pregnant, things are different. I never wanted to let her go and now, no matter what, we’ll always be connected.

So why the hell is she trying so hard to cut me from her life completely?

As if I don’t belong in it? As if I’d even go.

27

Indy

“That’s your best reaction?” Aiden goads me as he strikes another awkward, nowhere near stylish pose, in front of my apartment door.

I snort, forcing myself to smile when I really feel like crying. I haven’t spoken to Noah since Thursday night and today, I regret not answering his calls and text messages.

It was stupid of my delusional heart to think the knock on the door could have been Noah. Not when Aiden messaged me that he was on his way over to pick me up for dinner.

“I’m wearing a pocket square.” Aiden jabs at his chest, where I imagine he’s all decked out in a fancy blazer under his winter coat. I roll my eyes and turn to grab my coat and scarf from the hook.

“What’s going on with you?” Aiden asks. The door closes behind him and I wrap my scarf around my neck.

“Nothing,” I sigh.

“We don’t have to go tonight. I thought you’d want to get out a little. It was nice of the hockey guy to give up his reservation…”

I spin around and glare at my best friend.

“Ah, so hockey guy got your attention?” He smirks and it’s annoying as hell.

“His name is Noah.”

“And…?”

“And nothing.” I shrug on my coat and button it up.

Aiden chuckles. “Yeah right, Indy. There’s so much you’re not telling me but it’s cool…we’ve got all of dinner to talk about it.”

I stick my tongue out at him and glide past. He chuckles as he locks my apartment door.

For the entire drive to The Ivy, my thoughts revolve around Noah. Why didn’t he fight harder for me? For us? Why didn’t I give him a chance to weigh in on anything? How does he even feel about me being pregnant?

Aiden grumbles next to me and I know he’s trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. But I don’t have