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“Baby, you were so fucking good on the ice,” she breathes, eyes glowing. “You amaze me every single time I see you play, Nick.”

She looks up at me with so much pride it physically knocks the air out of my lungs.

“I’m proud of you, Nickolas. I hope you know that.”

I let out a slow breath, forehead resting against hers, heart steadying in her presence.

“I know now,” I say softly. “And I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

She smiles—small, intimate, just for me—and I kiss her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Because she is.

FIFTY-ONE

Sierra

It’s been three months since we got back together and I officially moved to London. And finally… everything has settled. Life feels steady. Real. Ours.

My life has never been more beautiful. More peaceful. More thrilling. More full of magic.

More… mine.

I’m happy. I’m fulfilled.

And… I feel sick.

Nickolas left earlier today to help Theo move some equipment for the new club he’s opening. Ever since, I’ve been curled over the toilet, emptying my stomach like it’s a daily ritual.

I texted Thalia and asked her to run down to the pharmacy downstairs to grab me something—anything—to make it stop.

Five minutes later, I hear the bedroom door creak open. Then the bathroom door.

“Here.”

Thalia tosses a small bag in my direction as soon as she’s in the room.

I catch it with shaky hands and peek inside… only to find a pregnancy test inside. I blink, confused, and glance again.

There are four more.

“Pregnancy tests?” I blink at her, completely stunned. “Thalia, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she says, crossing her arms and smirking like the little devil she is. “And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you either.” She grins wider. “I think you’re pregnant.”

The moment she says it out loud—pregnant—everything inside me stills.

Time. Breath. Thought.

Stopped.

The word echoes in my mind like a thunderstorm in an empty cathedral.

Pregnant.

It reverberates, again and again, anchoring itself somewhere deep in my chest like a tremor. And suddenly I can’t breathe.

I just sit there, on the cold tile floor, hands limp in my lap, staring at the white sticks as if they’ve just decided my entire future without asking my opinion.