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Turning from side to side in my full-length mirror, I take myself in. Yep, twelve weeks and definitely showing. I should’ve listened to my gut weeks ago and gone shopping for some clothes. Then I got sidetracked with work—what’s new—and now I’ve spent the past fifteen minutes squeezing myself into an A-line dress that is not thanking my ever-growing stomach and cleavage right now.

I can’t hold it off any longer. I have to tell my boss. I’ve been at Preston & Preston for years, but that still doesn’t make it any easier. Violet is probably right; they will find a replacement who’s likely way better than me at my job.

Stepping over to my dresser, I check my makeup again and pick up my favorite rose gold necklace—a thirtieth birthday gift from Easton. Clasping it around my neck, I look at my reflection in the round cosmetic mirror. Pregnancy is changing me, not just externally but internally, too. Yes, I’m freaking out about maternity leave, but deep down, I care far less about the impactit could have on my career than I ever thought I would. I’ve switched up legal journals for mom and baby books, and you know what, I’m enjoying them. Jensen annotated all the parts he thought were especially important with little notes and tabs.

I haven’t seen him much the past couple of weeks, just as he warned me. He’s back in his apartment, and training is in full swing, ready for preseason games to start and then for the NHL regular season to get underway on October first.

I miss him for more than just the sex. But I told him I needed time, and while he messages me every day, he’s clearly giving me space to process.

There’s a part of me that wants to head over to his place now and tell him I’ll give us a shot. But the larger part still holds me back. Not that I could go over anyway since I’m headed to Marissa and Brad’s engagement party tonight. It’s the first time I’ll see Tom since we split, and uneasiness settles inside me.

Grabbing my jacket and clutch, I head for my front door but stop dead in my tracks when I almost collide with Jensen.

“Hi,” I squeak.

God, he looks amazing in his post-practice training gear, complete with gray sweatpants.

He slowly scans my body, from my black patent heels to my low-cut sweetheart neckline, and he finally meets my eyes. “Where are you going?”

“To an engagement party for my friends.” Heat thrums through me from the possessive way he’s staring.

“I was just heading over to restock your freezer.” He tugs on the strap of his backpack, indicating the meals he’s made are in there.

“Thank you. You can still do that; I just need to head out.”

He doesn’t move from the doorway. “Who’s engagement party?”

“No one you know. Just some old college friends.”

And Tom.

His eyes widen. “Old college, as in the same college Tom went to?”

“Yes.” I prop a hand on my hip. “But it’s just a party, and I’m not even sure he’ll be there.”

I’m ninety-nine percent sure he will be since he texted me about it.

“Come back inside.” He points to my living space.

I check my watch. “I’m going to be late.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Jensen, I’m going to be late. It’s right across town, and I?—”

In an instant, my back is against my closed apartment door, and he’s pressing against me, his mouth hovering over mine. The move was soft and gentle but so fast, and it has my knees going weak especially when his breath fans my lips.

“There’s no way he gets to see you like this.” He scans down my body once more. “Not looking this fucking stunning and not without me by your side.”

I’m single, and no one has ever owned me, but right about now, Jensen Jones is the closest any man has ever come. And I hate that I like it.

“Did you get all dressed up for him?” he asks, pushing my long hair behind my ears.

“No, I got dressed up for me.”

“Is that so?” His right hand slowly travels up the inside of my thigh, and I squeeze them together as I fight to control my reaction.

“I need to head out. My Uber will be here any second.”