Page 9

Chapter 9

Astronomically Unlikely

Nora

F ive weeks of hockey season had flown by with the fury of a blindside check, and I was still somehow standing. November had arrived with its typical New York attitude: cold, demanding, and completely unsympathetic to my workload. While the team was on their away series, I’d been left behind with hours of game footage that made my eyeballs feel like I’d rubbed them with sandpaper.

I was grateful that most of the time skills coaches didn’t travel with the team, but that didn’t mean I got a vacation. If anything, I was working harder, analyzing every play from afar while also working with injured players and developing plans for our farm team.

And now, after a long day, I had book club. The thought of socializing when my body felt like it had been put through a washing machine set to destruction mode wasn’t appealing, but maybe I needed something that didn’t involve hockey to put some pep in my step.

So here I was, dragging my exhausted ass up to the penthouse condo that Paige shared with her three boyfriends. It was a living situation that still boggled my mind but somehow worked perfectly for her. The place was straight out of a magazine, all floor-to-ceiling windows capturing Manhattan’s skyline and Central Park like it was a painting created just for them.

“You made it!” Paige squealed, pulling me into a hug at the door. “Libby’s already inside demolishing the charcuterie board.”

“I brought wine.” I lifted the bottle weakly, like it was a forty-pound kettlebell.

She took the bottle and guided me inside. “The boys have made themselves scarce. They’re having a dude night with Libby’s guys.”

“All five of them?” I knew Paige’s three partners and Libby’s two partners were friends, but I had no clue they were at ‘dude night’ level.

“Yep. They’re surprisingly good at sharing.” She giggled, and I pretended to gag, even though I was secretly fascinated by how she and Libby both managed to juggle multiple men. Thinking about all the testosterone and the male grossness made me shudder.

Libby waved from her spot on the enormous sectional sofa, where she was seated with two other women. She introduced me to Olivia and Julie, who both worked with Paige.

I sank into the couch, the plush cushions threatening to swallow me whole as I yawned hard enough to make my head swim. Stress and sleep deprivation seemed to finally be catching up to me.

“Are you okay?” Libby pushed a cheese plate toward me. “You look like you could use some brie therapy.”

“Just tired.” I waved her concern away.

“Well, this is just what you need to wake up.” Paige poured everyone generous glasses of wine. She handed me mine, and the smell hit me like a punch to the gut.

I discreetly set the glass on the coffee table without taking a sip as Libby launched into an animated discussion about the book that we’d all started reading. I was behind where we were supposed to be but didn’t mind spoilers.

I tried to focus on the conversation, but my brain felt fuzzy, and my body seemed to be operating on a five-second delay. The fatigue I’d been battling all week was reaching new heights now that I was on a comfortable sofa.

Paige nudged me, leaning close so only I could hear. “What’s wrong?”

I grabbed a bottle of water from the center of the coffee table. She eyed me warily, looking between me and the glass of wine. “I try not to drink during the season.” I didn’t add that I’d fully intended to break that rule tonight, but alas, my stomach had a different plan.

“Since when?” she whispered.

“Okay, but was anyone else completely blindsided by the pregnancy reveal?” Julie rolled her eyes. “It came out of nowhere. No hints, no foreshadowing. Just bam! Suddenly, she’s pregnant with her boss’s baby.”

My brain screeched to a halt like a skater hitting the boards.

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

“Nora?” Paige’s voice seemed to come from a tunnel.

“Bathroom,” I managed to croak, standing up so quickly that the room tilted.

I walked away with as much dignity as I could muster.

Once inside the bathroom, I gripped the marble countertop and stared at my reflection. The woman looking back at me had wide, panicked eyes and looked like she was about to lose her shit.

This was ridiculous. There was no way I was pregnant. We’d used condoms. I had an IUD. I was fine. Just stressed and overworked and probably coming down with something.

But I had all the signs.

Fatigue? Check.

Breast tenderness? My sports bra had been feeling like a medieval torture device all week.

Nausea? That would explain why the wine made me want to hurl… and my breakfast.

I ticked off the boxes in my head like a horrifying checklist. I tried to remember when I’d last had my period, but that was a useless exercise since the IUD meant I rarely got them anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to regain my composure. I was being paranoid. There was no way I could be pregnant. IUDs were ninety-nine percent effective, and condoms were like eighty percent on a really bad day. That left like… a two-hundredths-of-a-percent chance, if my math was correct.

It was scientifically impossible.

Well, not impossible. Just incredibly, astronomically unlikely.

My mind flashed back to that night on the yacht. Carter and Dominic. Both of them. At the same time. In the same...

“Oh no.” I slid down to sit on the bathroom floor. I’d never considered the physics of what we’d done might impact birth control effectiveness. They’d both worn condoms, but they’d been rubbing against each other, creating friction that condoms were not designed to withstand.

A soft knock on the door made me jump.

“Nora? It’s been ten minutes. Are you alive in there?” Paige’s concerned voice came through the door.

“Define alive,” I called back weakly.

She didn’t respond, and for a moment, I thought she’d gone to get reinforcements. “Can I come in?”

I reached up and unlocked the door without getting up from my spot on the floor. Paige slipped inside, took one look at me, and immediately sat down next to me.

“Okay, spill. What’s happening? Are you sick? Did something happen at work? Did one of those hockey players say or do something? Because I will cut them.”

“I think I might be pregnant,” I blurted out.

Paige’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“I’ve been exhausted, my boobs hurt, I nearly vomited multiple times today, and I can’t remember the last time I had a period because of my IUD, but?—”

“Whoa, slow down.” Paige grabbed my hands. “You have an IUD, and you use condoms, right?”

I cringed. “Yes, but what about when you factor in two condom-covered penises rubbing against each other in the same vagina?”

Paige’s eyes widened to alarming proportions. “I’m going to need you to back up and explain that statement immediately.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Remember the charity dinner on the yacht? I may have ended up with Carter… and Dominic. At the same time.”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “Dominic? As in Garrett’s brother? Dominic as in the hockey player who gives you grief at every practice? That Dominic?”

I nodded miserably.

“Holy shit, Nora. That’s… wait, you had a threesome and you’re just now telling me this? What kind of best friend are you?”

“Can we please focus on the potential crisis growing in my uterus?” I pleaded.

“Right, sorry.” Paige pulled out her phone. “Let me just...”

I peered over her shoulder to see her searching for “effectiveness of condoms during double vagina penetration.”

I groaned, letting my head fall back against the cabinet with a thunk. “I can’t believe this is happening right now. And with a player? This is not good, Paige, not good at all.”

Paige scrolled for a few seconds. “There’s not a lot of research on this specific scenario, but there is information about using two condoms on one dick, which increases the risk of condom failure due to friction between the latex.”

“So two dicks rubbing against each other...”

“Could potentially have the same issue.” Paige looked up from her phone. “But it’s still really unlikely, Nora. You have an IUD. You’re probably coming down with a cold or something.”

“The IUD that I just had replaced before moving here. What if it’s defective? Can you look up if there have been any recalls? What if it’s still in there and the baby swallows it? Or, shit, doesn’t it cause?—”

“Okay, let’s not catastrophize.” Paige’s face suggested she was doing exactly that too. “I have some pregnancy tests.”

“You have pregnancy tests lying around?” I asked incredulously.

“When you have three partners, you keep emergency supplies on hand. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Paige stood and disappeared, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts.

If I were pregnant, whose would it be? What would I do? How would this affect my career? I’d worked so hard to be taken seriously as a female coach in a male-dominated sport. A pregnancy, especially one with paternity questions involving one of my players, would be a complete disaster.

Paige returned a few minutes later with a blue box and handed it to me. “Here. Probably nothing, but at least you’ll know for sure. It should still work even at night, but there’s a second one too to retake in the morning.”

I took the box with trembling fingers and shooed Paige out. I read the instructions and followed them exactly.

The three-minute wait felt like three years, and I paced the spacious bathroom, avoiding looking at the test resting on the counter. Was I ready to be a mom? I hadn’t given much thought to it, considering I was allergic to relationships.

Financially, I was able, even if the father didn’t want to be involved in any way. But emotionally? I sometimes still felt like a teenager even though I was a month away from being twenty-nine. I shouldn’t get ahead of myself; the test wasn’t even done doing whatever magic it did with my pee.

As if on cue, my phone timer went off, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I approached the test like it was a bomb about to detonate, only looking with one eye at first, but then the other flew open to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing.

Two pink lines.

Pregnant.

* * *

Morning arrived with all the subtlety of a hockey puck to the face. The nausea hit me as soon as I opened my eyes, and I barely made it to the bathroom before emptying what little remained in my stomach from last night’s dinner..

This couldn’t be happening.

After my pregnancy test bombshell, Paige had insisted I stay at her place, but I’d declined. I needed to be alone with my crisis, thank you very much. Besides, I didn’t need an audience for my mental breakdown, especially when one of Paige’s boyfriends was brothers with one of the potential fathers.

I pushed myself up from the bathroom floor and stared at my reflection. I didn’t look pregnant. I looked like someone who’d been hit by a bus and then reversed over for good measure. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, and my skin had a lovely greenish tinge that complemented the absolute terror in my eyes.

I needed to see a doctor to confirm the test hadn’t been a false positive. A real doctor, not WebMD, which would tell me that I was either really pregnant or dying of some rare tropical disease.

I grabbed my phone and searched for an OB/GYN who was taking new patients and offered same-day appointments.

By some miracle, the first place I called had a last-minute cancellation and was able to schedule me in a few hours. After hanging up, I showered, dressed in jeans and a sweater that suddenly felt tighter around my chest, and forced down some saltine crackers and ginger ale.

At least I didn’t have to face Dominic today.

The thought of telling him made my stomach lurch again. Would he panic? Would he shut down? Would he want nothing to do with it? Would this destroy everything?

And Carter. Persistent, boundary-challenged Carter. The man who’d somehow sweet-talked Paige or Libby into giving him my phone number and texted me every day since that night. Each message was more ridiculously charming than the last despite me leaving him on Read .

I decided to tackle one problem at a time as I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

Dr. Patel’s office was in a sleek building near Central Park, but the office was cozy and spa-like. I filled out the new patient forms with a shaking hand, checking boxes about my medical history while trying not to hyperventilate.

When was your last menstrual cycle?

I wanted to cry. I didn’t really get periods with the IUD, and when I did, it was a light one that could hardly be considered a period. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bled. How could something so basic elude me? I tracked every statistic for my players but apparently not my own reproductive cycle.

“Nora Hastings?” A nurse appeared at the door, smiling kindly as I stood and followed her back.

After taking my vitals, my medical history, and collecting a urine and blood sample, I sat alone in the exam room. The paper crinkled underneath me with every nervous twitch, and tried not to look at the posters of fetal development on the wall.

When Dr. Patel entered, I was in the middle of calculating how many hours of sleep I’d lost since taking that test last night and how many I’d be losing in the future. The answer: all of them.

“Ms. Hastings, I’m Dr. Patel.” She had a warm smile and calming presence, and I was relieved that the reviews about this place seemed to be right. “I understand you had a positive home pregnancy test and that you are concerned because you have an IUD?”

“Yes.” My voice came out as a squeak. I cleared my throat. “That can’t be right, can it? I mean, IUDs are super effective, and it wouldn’t just... stop working, right?” The desperation in my voice was embarrassing, but I couldn’t help it.

“Well, let’s find out what’s going on. Your urine test came back positive, and we’ll have the blood work results soon to confirm and check your hCG levels, which will help us determine how far along you might be.”

My stomach dropped. “I’m pregnant?”

“It appears so. We can do a transvaginal ultrasound to confirm and check the placement of your IUD and remove it if necessary.”

I was so grateful I wouldn’t have to wait since the office had its own ultrasound machine. The next twenty minutes were a blur of cold gel, an intrusive wand, and Dr. Patel’s increasingly indifferent expression as she studied the screen.

“Well, Ms. Hastings, I don’t see your IUD.”

My mind went absolutely haywire. “What do you mean you don’t see it? It has to be there. It was put in by a doctor. A medical professional. With a medical degree. Who does medical things professionally. I felt her stick it in!”

Dr. Patel turned the screen so I could see it. “There’s no IUD visible. When did you have it placed?”

“Four months ago.” I stared at the blob on the screen, unable to process what I was seeing. “But... where did it go?”

“It’s possible you experienced what we call spontaneous expulsion. It’s rare, but it happens. The uterus can sometimes push the IUD out, either completely or partially. Did you notice anything unusual after your IUD placement? Heavy bleeding, cramping, or perhaps finding something unusual in your underwear or toilet?”

I thought back, trying to remember anything out of the ordinary. “No, nothing like that. I would have noticed if my birth control literally fell out of me, wouldn’t I?”

“Not necessarily.”

“So you’re telling me my uterus hostilely yeeted my birth control without giving me any notice? Should I contact my lawyer for an illegal eviction?” The hysterical laugh that escaped me was not my finest moment.

Dr. Patel’s expression was sympathetic. “I know this is a shock. Based on the size of the gestational sac, I’d estimate you’re about six to seven weeks along, which puts conception four to five weeks ago, around the end of September. Does that seem accurate?”

The yacht.

“That’s the only sexual encounter I’ve had.” I sniffled, trying my best not to cry. “What happens now?”

“That depends on what you want to do. We can discuss all your options?—”

“I don’t know who the father is,” I blurted out, then immediately wanted to sink through the floor and disappear forever. I wasn’t ashamed of my sexual prowess, but the circumstances here were out of the ordinary.

Dr. Patel’s expression didn’t change. “That’s something we can address. There are non-invasive prenatal paternity tests available as early as seven weeks.”

“Non-invasive sounds good. I’ve had enough invasive things happen recently. Obviously, since I’m pregnant. Which happened because of... invasive... you know what? I’m going to stop talking now.” I pressed my palms against my burning cheeks.

“It’s okay to be overwhelmed,” Dr. Patel said gently. “This is a lot to process. How many potential fathers are we talking about?”

“Two.” I wished I could dissolve into the exam table. “It was the same night. Actually, it was the same... encounter.” At her raised eyebrow, I felt compelled to clarify. “They used condoms! Both of them! But apparently, when you have two condom-covered... appendages... in the same... area... at the same time, there can be friction issues that compromise the efficacy of the latex.”

To her credit, Dr. Patel maintained her professional composure, though I swear I saw her lips twitch.

She handed me some tissues to clean up the ultrasound gel. “We can schedule the paternity test next week. In the meantime, I’m going to recommend prenatal vitamins and give you some information about your options and what to expect.”

I nodded, still in a daze as she handed me a folder filled with pamphlets and papers. This was really happening. There was a blob on a screen that would eventually become a person.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Patel asked.

I had approximately eight million questions, starting with “How did my life become a soap opera?” and ending with “Is it possible to die of embarrassment?”

I took a deep breath. “None right now.”

“Once you’ve read through the information and processed it, feel free to reach out to the office with any questions or concerns. If you continue to have nausea, we can address that as well.” She patted my knee.

After scheduling the paternity test, I left the office feeling like I was walking through a fog. The chilly November air hit my face, grounding me slightly in reality. I found a bench in a quiet corner of a park and sat down, pulling out my phone. I had to tell them.

The thought of telling Dominic made my chest tighten. Things were already weird professionally between us. If the baby wasn’t his, there was no reason to make it worse.

Carter, on the other hand...

I pulled up our text thread, which consisted of him sending elaborate invitations to dinners, gallery openings, and weekend getaways.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. What was the proper etiquette for this situation? Was there a Hallmark card for Hey, remember that threesome we had? I might be pregnant with your child ?

Me: Hey. I need to talk to you about something important. Can I come by sometime today?

I hit send before I could overthink it, then stared at my phone, waiting for three dots to appear. It took less than a minute.

Carter: Nora! I was just thinking about you. Of course you can come over. I’m home all day. Just say when.

Me: How about now?

Carter: I’ll send a car for you. Where should it pick you up?

I gave him my location and watched as a squirrel paused in front of my bench, seeming to judge me with its beady eyes before scampering off. Pretty soon, everyone would be judging me.

Just another day in the life of Nora Hastings, skating coach, unwitting IUD expeller, and now, pregnant woman of mystery.