Page 40

I don’t even have words to describe what it means to me, and I let my head fall back against the wall as my eyes sting.

Footsteps pad down the hallway. Colston stops next to me, his Pop-Tart half-eaten, staring at the closed bathroom door.

"Was that..." He points at the wood. "Was that your Goldie girl?"

I like how he refers to her as my a little too much. "Yep."

"Damn. You didn't tell me she was a smoke show."

I shoot him a glare. "Watch it, Jenny."

He grins, completely unbothered. "I'm just saying. If that stick says yes, my future niece or nephew is gonna have top-tier genetics."

He's totally invading the moment, leaning against the opposite wall like he's settling in to watch a game. I'm about to tell him to get lost, but the crinkle of a plastic wrapper filters through the door.

"You good in there?" I ask, ignoring Colston.

"Yeah," she calls back. "Just... give me a second."

The toilet flushes, the sink runs, and then the lock clicks. Goldie pulls the door open.

She stops short when she sees Colston standing next to me in the hallway, her eyes darting between us.

Colston swallows his bite of Pop-Tart. "I'm Colston. And for the record, I was serious about the donuts."

I eye him. Donuts? The fuck? I know they’ve been texting, but now they have inside shit I don’t know about and I don’t know if I like it or not. “If that thing is positive, I’m ordering a dozen chocolate frosted right now."

Goldie lets out a shaky exhale, a real smile cracking through the anxiety. I could kiss Colston for putting it on her face. So okay, them being friends might not be the worst thing in the world. "I’ll hold you to that, but only if you toss in a raspberry filled. And get sprinkles."

"Consider it done."

"Alright, that’s enough," I say as my stomach flips over. Right now, I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with anything except what’s happening in that bathroom.

Not when my entire life might change in the next sixty or so seconds.

I step right in front of Colston, cutting the conversation off, and push my way into the cramped bathroom with her. I reach back and pull the door shut, locking it so it's just the two of us.

The plastic stick rests flat on the edge of the sink.

"How much longer?" I ask.

Goldie glances at the screen of her phone, her thumb hovering over the timer app. "Forty seconds."

We’re standing side by side in front of the vanity, and it's taking everything I have to keep my hands to myself. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks replaying every single second of that night in the hotel, forcing myself to shove those memories into a box because we agreed to just be friends. We aren't in any place to start something real right now. But having her this close again completely fucks with my resolve.

Goldie’s tapping her sandal frantically against the floor, practically vibrating with nervous energy. Usually I'm the one keeping everyone else calm. It’s what I do. I fly a ninety-thousand-pound aircraft into Category 5 hurricanes for a living, so I'm trained to keep my shit together when the shit’s going down. But right now, my pulse is pounding so hard I can hear it, and I’m completely out of my depth.

I need to be calm for her, though, so I reach out and slide my hand around her waist to pull her into my side. She blows out a shaky breath, sinking into me as she rests her head against my shoulder. My thumb rubs a slow circle against her hip.

“God. I swear every second is a tiny little eternity,” she complains, and I laugh.

But then her phone alarm goes off.

Goldie snatches the test off the counter as I grab her phone and silence the beeping. She’s staring at the little digital window, and I’m staring at her, trying to read every microexpression. Her breath catches, and her fingers are trembling so hard she almost drops the damn thing.

"Goldie?" I ask, needing to know what it says.

She turns it around so I can see the screen, and the word is right there in bold black letters.