Suddenly Engaged (A Lake Haven Novel Book 3)

By: Julia London

Prologue

The pregnancy test kits were lined up in formation like a marching band on her bathroom counter. Seven of them in all, one for each day of the week, four digital wands in the back row, three nondigital wands in the front.

Kyra watched Brandi closely as she stared down at the sticks. “You’re pregnant,” Brandi announced.

“Maybe it’s the brand,” Kyra suggested hopefully. “Maybe I should try different brands just to be sure.”

Brandi gave her a side eye. “You’re pregnant, Kyra.”

Kyra swallowed down a swell of nausea. What was that, morning sickness? Or was she just sick with worry? She couldn’t be pregnant. There was no room in her life for pregnant. “Maybe I should try the test in the middle of the night. You know hormones fluctuate at night.”

Brandi didn’t bother to respond to such inanity. She turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

Kyra reluctantly followed.

Brandi draped her supermodel-thin body over Kyra’s secondhand couch, then flipped her blonde Brazilian Blowout over her shoulder. “Did you call him?”

Kyra sank much less gracefully onto the matching secondhand chair. “I’ve called him, I’ve texted him. He hasn’t responded.”

“He’s ghosting you. It’s those damn destination weddings.” Brandi sighed. “Weekend romances are so intense, and then they never work once you’re back to real life. You should really avoid them.”

Kyra looked curiously at her friend. “It was your destination wedding, Brandi.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yes, she knew what Brandi meant—she should have been more careful. Generally, Kyra was on board with Brandi’s advice. They’d met when Kyra landed a job at US Fitness, a magazine devoted to weekend warriors. It was Kyra’s first real job out of college; she’d been hired on as a junior copy editor. She’d had great ambition when she’d started—she wanted to run her own magazine someday, just like she’d run her high school yearbook, and she saw the job at US Fitness as her springboard. She’d worked hard and volunteered for any extra work anyone would give her, and it had paid off—in six months’ time, she was promoted to copy editor.

Brandi was a senior editor at the magazine and had seen promise in Kyra. She’d taken her under her wing, told her about an editorial position opening up at the end of the year. When she’d found out Kyra was new to New York, she’d helped set Kyra up with a personal life. She’d made sure to invite Kyra when a group was going for drinks or to join them for a weekend outing . . . if that outing didn’t include a thirty-mile bike ride. Kyra hadn’t exactly gotten on board with the fitness part of her job.

Brandi had been engaged to Mark when she and Kyra first met. As good-looking and as fit as his fiancée, Mark introduced Kyra to his handsome and successful friends, several of whom Kyra had dated . . . maybe a bit indiscriminately. Why not? She’d been a full-fledged, card-carrying adult, and it was New York! Dating and sex were mandatory recreation for a single woman in New York. Before she knew it, Kyra had morphed into a party girl, and the party girl had lit up like a bonfire when Brandi and Mark decided that they would host a destination wedding in Puerto Vallarta.

“You have to come,” Brandi had said.

“I don’t know if I can swing it,” Kyra had responded, thinking of money.

“Kyra!” Brandi had said laughingly. “Since when do you turn down a good time?” She’d been standing over Kyra in her little work cubby, wearing fabulous high heels and a miniskirt that showcased her runner’s legs. “You cannot pass this up! It’s a chance of a lifetime, and it will be so much fun. And just wait until you get a look at the groomsmen.” She’d winked at Kyra. “My assistant is looking for a roommate,” she’d added as she’d walked on.

No doubt about it—a long weekend in Puerto Vallarta had sounded fabulous.

Kyra had wanted to go, but after a quick study of her bank account, she’d found it wanting. She’d called her dad in Florida to borrow the money for plane fare.

“Puerto Vallarta,” he’d repeated gruffly. Kyra’s father was a working man and didn’t think highly of vacations. “Sounds like a cheap beach hotel.”

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