I clench my phone and let out a loud sigh. I don’t want to read anything more about Saint’s wild night, which allegedly ended in a threesome.

A threesome? Like, who even is this guy?

The Saint I’m falling for buys me prenatal vitamins and takes me to the farmers’ market. He’s flirty, sure, but he’s been as wholesome as they come. A complete gentleman. He makes sure I’m fed and rubs my sore feet. He texts me for no reason, just to check on me.

Unless I’ve been duped, this isn’t the man the world knows. They know the party boy who goes clubbing on a random weeknight and gets caught in compromising photos with women of every variety.

My heart throbs painfully and I draw in a slow breath.

I hate this, and I especially hate my brother being right about it. I hate that even if Saint has had some sudden desire to clean up his act, I’ll never be enough for him. I’m not kinky or exciting or into threesomes. I’m about to be a mom. I like sex, of course, but it’s all been fairly vanilla, and I’m certainly not a party girl.

Maybe that would have been fun when I was younger, but now I never will be. I’m entering a new season of my life, which includes responsibility and stability and making good decisions for my future. My future doesn’t include hockey playboys. It can’t.

I touch a hand to my belly, feeling a lump form in my throat as a knock sounds on my door. Walker has plans, so it can’t be him, which leaves only one person. Saint.

Great. I guess I have to deal with this now.

I answer the door and let Saint inside. But he must sense my energy, because he lingers beside me in the entryway.

“What’s wrong?”

I chew on my lip, looking for the right words to say. I wish I’d had time to rehearse them, to practice what I should say. Instead, it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.” I gesture between us.

“Why? What happened?”

“This.” I hand him my phone, which is still pulled up to the article.

He takes a quick glance, and his expression sours. “So, that’s it then? You catch wind of my past, cast your judgment, and just bail?”

Suddenly uncomfortable, I shift from one sore foot to the other. “What? No, I . . .”

Saint has never once judged me or looked down on my past. And, hello, I clearly have one, including a baby daddy. My life was a little turbulent before Saint came into it.

“I’m not judging you,” I say to clarify. “More like establishing some boundaries.”

Saint raises his eyebrows. “Boundaries?”

I nod. “I’ve never had a threesome in my life, and I probably never will.”

His lips tilt up. “And that’s what you think I want because—”

“Because, um, because of that.” I glare at the phone still in his hands.

“I’ve always been a try anything once kind of guy, Kin. Believe me, one woman is all I need.”

Tilting my head, I weigh his words. I wish I could believe him, but part of me isn’t sure. I don’t know what to think anymore.

Saint hands me back my phone, then places a carton of shiny plums in my other hand. “I actually came by to bring you these. Just . . . let me know if you need anything.”

My chest squeezes, and I swallow a lump in my throat. “Okay.”

He turns to leave, and when the door closes behind him, I feel like curling into a ball and crying, and I don’t even know why. Saint and I are friends, and I just pushed him away because of my own fears and insecurities.

Sometimes, I really hate these overactive pregnancy hormones. I have no idea if I made the right decision by confronting him, or if I just blew up the one good thing in my life.