Chapter 1

We're at game night. Someone suggests two truths and a lie.

Sabrina Quinn — Weston's ride-or-die since kindergarten — grabs her wine glass and stands up.

"I've slept in Weston's bed."

"I've worn Weston's boxers."

"I'm pregnant with Weston's baby."

Every single person at the table points at the third one.

So do I.

I mean, come on. Weston and I have been together seven years. He's been dead-set child-free the whole time.

I gave up wanting kids for him.

Then Weston opens his mouth.

“Number two. That one’s the lie.”

The whole room goes dead quiet.

---

Sabrina glances at me and waves her hands fast.

"Hon, don't get the wrong idea. It was IVF. We didn't do anything, I swear."

Weston picks it right up, cool as ice.

"She doesn't want to get married. She just wants a baby of her own."

Sabrina giggles.

"Family helps family. He just donated some sperm."

I stare at Weston.

Seven years of "no kids ever."

Turns out the "no kids" rule only applied to me.

The room stays dead silent for a good five seconds.

Sabrina, meanwhile, sips her wine like nothing happened.

"Why the faces? We didn't sleep together."

Somebody finally snaps out of it.

"Wait — you're seriously pregnant with Weston's kid?"

"Yep." Sabrina pats her still-flat stomach. "Two lines on the test yesterday."

She says it like she just won the lottery.

Weston doesn't explain. Just leans back on the couch. Zero guilt.

Someone else finally works up the nerve to ask.

"So… what's the kid's last name gonna be? Hale or Quinn?"

"Quinn, obviously." Sabrina doesn't even blink. "I'm carrying it, I'm raising it. Weston's got nothing to do with it."

Somebody laughs.

"The kid is literally his and he's got nothing to do with it?"

Sabrina rolls her eyes so hard.

"He donated some DNA. I'm not asking him to be my husband."

She reaches for her wine again. Weston’s hand moves faster. He slides the glass away.

"No booze. You're pregnant."

"One sip."

"No."

He pushes a club soda toward her.

"Did you take your prenatal today?"

"Yes, yes, God, you're worse than my mother."

I sit next to him. I don't say a word.

Seven years. The one sentence Weston said most about kids?

"I don't like children."

I actually believed him.

But he remembers pregnant women can't drink. He remembers prenatal vitamins.

He cares more than Sabrina does.

Someone's still catching up.

"Okay but — the OB appointments, insurance, all that. You're doing it alone?"

Sabrina just laughs. She sets down her glass, digs in her purse, and slaps two documents on the table.

"That's why we got the marriage license and made it official today."

My mind goes completely blank.

MARRIAGE LICENSE. Right there in black and white.

Sabrina flips one open. Their names are printed there in black and white, right next to each other.

The room explodes.

"HOLY SHIT you two actually got MARRIED?"

"That's insane!"

Sabrina waves them off.

"Relax. Just makes the paperwork easier for the baby. We're divorcing the second I pop."

Then she lifts her chin at me.

"Don't take it personal, hon. Just borrowing him for a few months. Kid comes out, you get him right back."

I don't say anything.

Weston finally turns to look at me.

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