One night and my life completely jumped the tracks. Actually, a pack of expired condoms did that — the rest of the night was pretty amazing. Open bar at a friend's wedding. Bad dancing all around. Stupid trivia bets with my fellow Ice Knights hockey teammates. And Tess Gardner. The factoid-blurting, fandom-T-shirt-wearing, no-I-don’t-want-a-relationship-with-you woman makes me forget for one night that I’m a man with a routine and my future all mapped out. Still, it sucked she left our room without giving me her number.
Fast-forward to when she tracks me down and tells me I'm going to be a daddy. Jaw, meet floor. Now I've insisted that she and our little peach pit move in with me after her apartment floods. She agrees as long as there’s no funny business, no shotgun weddings, and no more nights spent naked together. Sounds easy enough. I was prepared for the late-night runs for more pickles and peanut butter, but I wasn’t prepared for Tess. She’s like a glitter rainbow sparkling in the middle of my all-neutrals house, messing up my rigid schedule and turning my world upside down. What the hell do we do next?
