Page 6

I’ve spent the last two days trying to process everything that’s happened. The pregnancy, the breakup, the job offer, the whole fucking debacle with the press after the reveal of the Predators.

I’ve just been going through the motions, trying to keep it together. Yesterday a doctor confirmed the pregnancy and printed me a picture I keep taking out of my purse and putting back.

But today, I’m going to take control of my life, figure out what to do next.

Which is why I’ve been waiting on a bench in front of Amanecer for the last hour. I don’t know what Raul’s reaction will be, if he’ll be happy or angry or indifferent.

All I know is that I have to tell him. It’s his child too.

I watch as the last customers leave and the staff cleans up, getting ready to go home. My heart is pounding, my palms sweating.

I take a deep breath, then get up, walking toward the entrance. The bell rings as I push the door open. Raul is at the counter, counting the money, his back to me.

I clear my throat, my voice shaky. “Hey.”

He turns around, his eyes widening when he sees me. “Alycia? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s important.”

He frowns. “Is everything okay? Did Declan come near you again?”

“No, no,” I say quickly. “It’s not about him.”

“Then what is it?” he asks, walking toward me. “You look pale.”

I laugh, but it’s humorless. “That’s one way to put it.”

He stops in front of me, his eyes searching mine. “Tell me what’s going on.”

This is it. No more stalling.

But fuck. How do you tell a guy you had a one night stand with that you’re pregnant with his baby?

He’s my sister’s coach and my sister’s girlfriend’s brother, and there’s no way adding a baby to that sentence makes it any simpler.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.

I just had to rip off the band-aid. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t bear to see his reaction—disappointment, shock, or even worse, indifference.

I wait for him to say something, anything. But there’s only silence. I dare to open my eyes.

Raul is just standing there, looking like he’s seen a ghost. Then he nods to himself and sits down. But in the next moment, he’s already back on his feet, as fast as the knee will let him, gently touching my elbow and guiding me to the nearest table.

I sit down, my hands in my lap, my eyes on the floor. I can’t look at him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “You must be hungry. I’ll prepare you something quick.”

Before I can stop him, he’s already gone. I feel like I’m going to pass out.

I’ve never felt so humiliated, so vulnerable. I came here with a plan, with a speech, but now it’s all gone out the window.

After a few minutes, Raul comes back with a plate of tortilla and a glass of lemonade. I didn’t even know I was craving it until it was in front of me. He sits across from me, still wide-eyed.

“Thanks,” I mumble, not sure what else to say.

“Of course,” he says. “Eat. Please.”

I pick up the fork. I don’t have much of an appetite, but I know I have to eat. For the baby. I take a bite, chewing slowly, savoring the taste. It’s simple, but delicious. Like everything he makes.