Page 13

Chapter Thirteen

JACKSON

I get to Everest early.

Not because I want to. Because I have to. Because I need to.

There’s no way in hell I can sit in my apartment, pacing like a lunatic, waiting for this conversation to happen.

Ivy is pregnant?!

And somehow, I missed every single sign that this was coming.

I order a whiskey, then immediately regret it.

Shit. I can’t show up drunk to this.

This is real life shit.

I push the glass away, dragging a hand over my face.

I sit there, staring at the pristine white tablecloth, my mind racing.

Did she lie to me? Why now?

Why the hell didn’t I fight harder to find her?

Why the hell didn’t I at least ask for her last name?

I let out a breath.

It’s not like I didn’t try to find her. I went back to Riverbend. Twice, for good measure. The hell was I supposed to do? Put an ad in the damn personals in the local newspaper like an insane man?

No one knew who the hell she was. No one had heard of an Ivy.

Even the bartender at the Tipsy Cactus—a man who looked like he had been planted there in 1976 and hadn’t left since—swore up and down he didn’t know her.

Eventually, I had to accept it.

She didn’t want to be found. The Universe wasn’t on our side.

I told myself to let it go. To move on. I wasn’t going to be the guy fawning over some imaginary woman who hadn’t given him another thought. Hell, maybe Ivy was a fake name.

And then tonight happened.

The server clears her throat.

“Sir, are you waiting for someone?”

I blink.

I look up at her, then at the empty chair across from me.

Jesus.

I must look like some asshole who got stood up.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I am.”

The server nods. “Would you like to order, or?—”

I wave her off. “I’ll wait. But you can take this drink back.”

His brow furrows. “Was it not satisfactory?”

“I’m not drinking tonight.”

“Oh.” She hesitates for a second, clearly confused, but then nods and removes the glass.

My knee bounces under the table.

I check my phone. Nothing.

I check my watch.

The reservation was for six-thirty. I called in a favor to make it happen.

Now? It’s five minutes until seven.

My hands are restless. I lace them together, squeezing tight.

She’s going to show.

I know it.

And then the restaurant door opens. My entire world tilts.

She looks fucking breathtaking.

Another dark green dress that makes her eyes look brighter than I remember. She knows her color.

Her hair is soft, loose, a little curled at the ends.

She steps inside slowly, her eyes scanning the room.

And when her gaze locks onto mine?

My chest tightens. Hard.

I stand before I even realize I’m doing it.

Ivy hesitates, then walks toward me.

Each step she takes feels like a slow countdown.

By the time she reaches the table, I can barely breathe.

She sits.

I sit.

We stare at each other.

Neither of us speaks.

Because what the hell do you even say?

How do you start a conversation like this?

My jaw tenses.

And before I can stop myself, the first words out of my mouth aren’t hello.

They’re low. Intense. Raw.

“Ivy. Tell me the truth. Is it mine?”

Her eyes well up immediately.

Shit.

Her hand tightens around her water glass, knuckles white.

And then she lets out a sharp breath, shaking her head.

“No, Jackson. I came all the way here to humiliate myself just to mess with you!” Her voice rises. “Yes, it’s yours!”

A couple at a nearby table turn their heads.

A server passing by slows for half a second before wisely continuing on.

Okay.

Wrong move.

I scrub a hand over my jaw, exhaling sharply.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” My heart pounds like crazy. “It’s just…I don’t know what to say.”

I reach for my drink, but my hand is shaking, so I set it down without taking a sip.

“I tried to call you,” I blurt. “I wanted to call you, I mean.”

Ivy stares at me, disbelieving.

“…You tried to call me?”

I nod. “I lost your number.”

Her expression flattens.

“…Seriously?”

“Yes. Seriously. My wallet got stolen on the train home, and your number was in it.”

Her lips part. She blinks. “I don’t believe you.”

I let out a rough laugh, shaking my head. “And then, because I’m an idiot, I didn’t even know your last name.”

Her mouth opens—then closes.

She blinks again.

Then, slowly, she drags a hand down her face.

“Ivy, I went back to Riverbend to try and find you.”

“Really?”

“Hand to God.”

“Wow,” she whispers. “I don’t even know what to think of that.”

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes. Strangely, I do.”

I lean forward, bracing my forearms on the table. “So yeah. I wanted to call you, and then you show up at a game… still impressed you guys got through security, by the way.” I pause, my heart still pounding. “I’m in a little shock right now, as you might imagine.”

Ivy lets out a sharp laugh.

She reaches for her water, but her hands are shaking too.

I don’t miss it.

“You think you’re in shock?” she mutters, staring at the table. “Try finding out you’re pregnant by peeing on a stick at six in the morning, alone in your bathroom, and then realizing the father of your baby is the freaking head coach of a pro football team when your stepdad talks about how the ‘Stallions are going to win it all this year.’”

A woman at a nearby table gasps.

A man at another table lowers his wine glass, eyebrows raised.

Ivy notices.

She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. Then, when she speaks again, her voice is lower. “I swear to God, if this winds up on a sports blog…”

I exhale slowly, rubbing my face.

“…Yeah. Fair point. I’ll keep my voice down.”

She shifts in her seat, one hand pressing against her stomach.

My eyes flick down, locking onto the movement.

My chest tightens.

For the first time, I realize—really realize—what this means.

She’s pregnant.

With my baby.

And I wasn’t there.

I swallow hard, gripping the edge of the table.

“Ivy…” I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. “I don’t even know what to say. This is a lot to process.”

Her voice is quiet.

“Then don’t say anything yet.”

I nod once.

She takes a deep breath, like she’s bracing herself.

And then she finally looks at me.

Her eyes are soft. Vulnerable. Scared.

She watches me carefully, like she’s gauging my reaction.

Her fingers fidget with the napkin in her lap.

“But don’t walk away from this, either,” she says softly. “Can we just at least keep an open dialogue? Be friends? Or… something?”

Something in my chest cracks open.

And for the first time since she walked in, I know exactly what to say.

I reach across the table, palm up, open. A silent gesture.

Take it. Trust me.

She hesitates for a beat, then slowly places her hand in mine.

I curl my fingers around hers, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin.

My voice is low. Steady.

“I won’t.”

For a second, everything else fades.

Soft voices, clinking glasses, a distant melody—background noise to the only thing that matters.

It’s just us.

Ivy blows out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just slightly.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

But I know one thing for sure—I’m not letting her do this alone.

Her eyes flick down to our hands, then back up to mine.

“Okay,” she whispers.

It’s not a solution.

It’s not a plan.

But it’s a start.

And right now, that’s enough.

I take a deep breath and look at the young woman across the table from me.

Though we shared an intimate twenty-four hours, she’s a virtual stranger.

I don’t know her middle name.

I don’t know her biggest fear.

I don’t know her favorite way to spend a Sunday morning.

But I know she’s carrying my baby.

I glance at her just as the server arrives.

And Ivy?

Ivy lights up.

Not in the fake, forced way people turn on a customer-service smile. It’s real. Warm. Like she actually gives a damn.

“Oh my gosh, hi,” she says, beaming up at the server. “Sorry, I know we’re probably the worst table ever. We haven’t even looked at the menu yet.”

The server, a woman with nervous energy and a half-filled water pitcher, blinks like she wasn’t expecting that level of friendliness.

“Oh! No, no, you’re totally fine,” she says quickly. “Take your time.”

Ivy tilts her head. “What’s your name?”

The server blushes. “Oh, um—Lena.”

“Well, Lena, you are killing it tonight,” Ivy says seriously. “This place is packed, and I bet you haven’t had a break in, like, five hours.”

Lena lets out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Six, actually.”

Ivy presses a hand to her chest. “Bless you. If we take forever, just throw something at us.”

Lena laughs for real this time, tension melting from her shoulders. “You got it.”

Ivy nods, genuine and unhurried. “Okay, I think I’ll start with a ginger ale, if you have it.”

“Absolutely,” Lena says, turning to me. “And for you, sir?”

I realize I’ve been staring.

I clear my throat. “Uh, just a water.”

Lena nods and leaves, but not before giving Ivy a grateful glance.

I sit back, watching Ivy, this woman I barely know.

They say the way a person treats a server tells you everything you need to know about them.

And Ivy?

She’s good.

Really good.

I drag a hand down my jaw, exhaling slowly.

I’m in so much fucking trouble.

We sit in silence for a few moments, until Lena returns, placing our drinks in front of us.

“Any appetizers?” she asks, pen poised.

I glance across the table. “What looks good to you?”

Ivy’s eyes light up a little as she scans the menu. “Ooh! I’ve never had escargot.”

I widen my eyes, grinning despite myself. “Never. Like never ever?”

She shakes her head, a little sheepish. “Nope. I mean, I’ve heard people rave about it, but I’ve just never had the chance.”

I lean forward, brow raised. “So, you’re telling me I have the honor of being here for your very first escargot experience?”

She smirks. “It appears so.”

I turn to Lena. “We’ll take an order of escargot, please. And make it special—it’s a first-time situation.”

Lena laughs, writing it down. “Got it. I’ll make sure the chef knows it’s a big moment.”

She walks away, and Ivy glances back at the menu, flipping the page.

A second later, her brows shoot up.

“Thirty-two dollars for a bowl of French onion soup?” She lets out a low whistle. “Damn. This soup better change my life.”

I chuckle. “Get whatever you want.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You sure? What if I start ordering the most expensive thing on the menu?”

I just shrug. “Go for it.”

She studies me for a second, like she’s testing me.

Then, she flips back to the menu, tapping a finger on the page. “Fine. I’m getting the soup. And maybe… the truffle risotto.”

I nod. “Good choice. I’ll have the ribeye, medium rare. Thank you, Lena.”

She sighs, leaning her elbow on the table, chin in her hand, studying me.

“I still can’t figure you out.”

I smirk, swirling the condensation on my water glass with my thumb. “What do you want to know?”

She shrugs, playing it casual. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

I chuckle. “That’s how we’re doing this? You just drop a comment like that and then make me wait?”

Her lips curve slightly. “Exactly.”

I lean back in my chair, studying her right back. “Fine. Two can play that game.”

Her brows lift. “Oh, so now you’re intrigued by me?”

I scoff. “Intrigued? You showed up out of nowhere, told me I’m going to be a father, and ordered a thirty-two-dollar bowl of soup. Yeah, Ivy, I’d say I have a few questions.”

She laughs, and damn if it isn’t the best sound I’ve heard all day.

“Okay, Coach,” she says, taking a sip of her ginger ale. “Hit me with your best shot.”

I tilt my head, considering. “Alright. What’s the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”

She groans, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my god.”

I grin. “That bad?”

She peeks at me between her fingers. “You don’t even know.”

I lean forward, elbows on the table. “Oh, I plan to.”

She sighs, dropping her hands. “Alright, fine. It was with a guy who, five minutes into dinner, started calling me ‘wifey.’”

I choke on my water. “No. No way.”

She nods solemnly. “And then—this is the best part—he reached across the table, took my hand, and told me he could ‘feel our souls intertwining.’”

I slap a hand over my mouth, trying not to lose it. “Please tell me you ran.”

She grins. “Oh, absolutely. Right after he asked if I’d be open to a joint bank account.”

I bark out a laugh. “Jesus Christ.”

She sighs dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. “So yeah. The bar is incredibly low, Jackson.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Noted.”

I’m still grinning when our server sets the soup in front of Ivy, along with the appetizers.

She takes her spoon, dipping it into the rich broth, blowing on it gently before taking a careful sip.

Her eyes go wide.

I raise a brow. “Life-changing?”

She groans, nodding. “Oh my God. This is unfair. I can never eat regular soup again.”

I smirk. “Told you.”

She takes another sip, savoring it, before setting the spoon down and leaning back in her chair.

Her expression shifts.

Not bad, exactly. But…different.

More serious.

She looks at me, like she’s trying to read something in my face.

I set down my fork, my stomach tightening. “What?”

She hesitates. Then:

“Are you okay?”

I blink, caught off guard. “…What?”

She tilts her head. “This is kind of a big night for you.”

A humorless laugh leaves my lips. “You could say that.”

She watches me for a second longer, then leans forward slightly, voice softer. “I mean it, Jackson. How are you feeling?”

I stare at her. She’s pregnant. She’s the one whose life is going to change forever.

And yet, she’s sitting here, asking if I’m okay.

I exhale, dragging a hand down my jaw. “I don’t know.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just waits.

The silence feels… safe. Like she’s giving me space to figure it out.

I glance down at the table, thinking. Then I shake my head. “It’s weird. I don’t feel… scared.”

“You don’t?”

I lean back, rubbing a hand over my face. “I mean, yeah, it’s a lot. But… I don’t know. The moment you told me, I just knew.” I meet her eyes. “I knew I wasn’t walking away from this.”

Something flickers across her face.

Relief?

Hope?

Maybe both.

Her fingers trace the rim of her glass. “I didn’t know what you’d say.”

I frown. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Because… I don’t know. You’re Jackson Knox. You have a big, crazy career. You don’t exactly seem like the type of guy who had ‘accidental dad’ on his bingo card this year.”

I smirk slightly. “No, can’t say I did.”

She exhales, shaking her head. “I just… I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to be involved.”

I sit up straighter. “Of course I do.”

She looks up, searching my face. “Just like that?”

I hold her gaze.

“Just like that.”

Her breath catches.

I tense. “What?”

She exhales slowly. “I do believe you. That you lost my number and everything. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to just magically trust you. You’re going to have to earn that.”

I nod, steady. “Ivy… we’re going to have to take this one step at a time.”

“Right.”

For a second, we just sit there, staring at each other.

The weight of everything—this moment, this night, this baby—it’s all hanging in the air between us.

And although this is maybe the craziest night of my life—or second craziest, depending how I look at it—for the first time all evening, I don’t feel like I’m drowning.