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“Whatever the results, Kate, there are many people who co-parent and do it very successfully.”

But do they fight like cats and dogs?

The timer goes off, and I hold my breath in anticipation. The doctor takes a look at the results and then makes a quick note before turning to me, crossing her legs over, and folding her hands in her lap. “It’s positive, and the timeline matches your prediction, giving you an estimated due date of March twenty-third. Your first-trimester ultrasound will be around the eight-week mark, and it will provide a more accurate date, but I’ll schedule that and be in touch.”

I’ve stopped breathing.

“Kate?”

Words die on my tongue as I open my mouth, but nothing materializes.

“Kate? Do you want a glass of water?” Doctor Radwanska comes to sit on the chair beside me, placing her hand on my knee.

Overwhelmed. That’s the best way to describe this moment. Panic—that’s also apt right now. I’ve spent my entire adulthood meticulously planning my life to the last detail, and here we are, at thirty-five years old, and an atomic bomb drops right in the center of everything.

“He’s going to run,” I say. My head is spinning out. I reach to steady myself on the arm of the chair.

“Okay, you’re okay.” The doctor gently presses her hand against my chest, asking me to sit back in my seat. “Take a few deep breaths for me, Kate.”

“My parents will disown me.” Panic gnaws away at my insides. “I’ll need to move to a new apartment. Mine’s not big enough for me and the baby.” My breathing turns erratic.

“In through the nose, out through your mouth.”

“Slap me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

I turn to my doctor. “Slap me and wake me up from this.”

She chuckles softly. “We can put together a plan for all your prenatal appointments. Right now, though, I just want you to go home and relax, talk to and tell whoever you need. It’s still very early days, but you will need support. How are you feeling physically?”

“Fine,” I say blankly, staring out into space. I think back to the moment in the office with Jensen. “I’ve had a couple of sharp pains but no bleeding.”

“When was that?”

“A few days ago,” I confirm.

“Okay. Sounds to me like implantation. Sometimes women feel it but don’t always know what it is.”

I was implanting while telling him to shove his Italian lunch up his ass.

Ideal Kate, ideal.

“Okay, I’m going to put together a prescription for the recommended prenatal vitamins and get the nurse to grab you a glass of water. Can I get you anything else?”

Breaking my gaze from the cream-colored wall, I look at the doctor. “A glass of wine?”

She wears an amused look. “In nine months, no problem.”

Still in deep shock,I walk back into my apartment, having totally forgotten to return to work, collect my car, or tell anyone I wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

I need a minute to process. But I need to do it alone.

I’m going to be a mom. To Jensen Jones’ baby.

There’s absolutely no way it can be Tom’s since the timelines don’t align, and we hadn’t slept together in a while.

He’s going to freak the fuck out when I tell him.