"Are you nervous?"

We're sitting on a plane, side-by-side, in first class like I've never experienced before. Jackson is tense, looking out the window with one leg crossed over the other. I can tell just by his body language that something is bothering him.

"I'm fine," he says, eyes out the window.

I skim my hand down his thigh to rest on his knee, where I give a little squeeze. "You don't seem fine," I say quietly. "What's wrong?"

He finally turns to look at me, and I give him a soft expression. He searches my eyes for a moment before finally raising his eyebrows and saying, "This is a big step for me."

I take one of his hands and stroke the skin with my thumb. "I know," I say.

"Like, huge."

I chuckle. "I know," I say. "I was surprised you suggested it so early."

He sighs, staring down at my lap then lifting his eyes back up. "I'm excited," he says. "I am. And more than anything, I'm proud. I want people to know."

"Your people from home," I say. "I get it. You want to prove that you-"

"No, proving isn't the right word," he says. "You're not my trophy wife."

"Not yet," I joke.

"April," he says seriously. "You're having our child. That means something."

"Jackson," I say, tipping my head to the side. "I know."

We're pregnant. After too many quickies and apparent broken condoms, I'm 4 weeks along with Jackson's child. Finding out at the hospital after realizing I missed my period wasn't exactly ideal, but we're making it work. We have plans to get married, start a family, start a life. So what, if it isn't the way we both imagined? We're making it happen. And we're happy about it.

I never pictured my adult life starting out this way, but that's okay. I've begun to accept that things don't always go as planned, and sometimes that's better.

"I want you to see where I'm from," he says. "And I want where I'm from to see you. It's important to me, you know, connecting these two pieces of my life."

"You don't have to defend yourself," I say. "I'm excited to see Boston. I've never been before. I'm excited to see your mom, too."

He takes in a deep breath. "Makes one of us."

I smile to myself and rest my head on his shoulder. "It'll be fun," I say. "I promise, I'll be on my best behavior."

He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head and says, "It's not you I'm worried about."

Catherine meets us at the airport, smiling and waving in an impeccable outfit. Suddenly, I feel underdressed as I approach her in jeans and a simple sweater.

"Why's she dressed like she's going to the Oscar's?" I ask Jackson, under my breath. "I feel like a slob."

"You're fine," he says, tightening his arm around the small of my back. "She always does that. To her, that's casual. You look great, you always do."

"My baby boy!" Catherine sings, arms out wide as we get closer. "And April, lovely to see you dear." She holds Jackson's cheek and says, "My baby boy and his baby."

"Our baby," he mutters.

"April," she says, encasing me in a big, perfumy hug. "You're glowing. You're absolutely glowing."

I'm barely a month pregnant. I didn't think it was noticeable at all, so I don't know if there's something I'm not seeing, or if she's pulling that out of thin air.

"I'm so glad you decided to come visit," she says, as we start walking. "Jackson's so adorable, wanting to introduce you to his friends and his hometown. Already such a family man."

I take Jackson's hand and meet his eyes, mine shining, behind Catherine's back. I always knew, somewhere deep down, that family meant a lot to him. And now he's getting the chance to show it.

"I was happy to come," I say. "I've never been to Boston before."

"Well, you're in for a treat," she says, leading the way to the car. The inside is plush leather, smooth and black; I can't help but stroke the seats when I get in. "The Four Seasons, please," Catherine says to the driver.

I look at Jackson, confused. "We're going to a hotel?"

He nods, not seeing my issue.

"We're not staying at your house?" I ask.

"No," he says. "Why would we do that?"

"I… I don't know," I say. "I always pictured us staying at your house. I could see your childhood room, where you used to play… all that stuff."

He lets a short gust of air from his nose. "Babe," he says. "I had about 13 childhood homes. The house my mom lives in now, I've been in it like, one time. And as a kid, I didn't play."

"You didn't play?" I ask, truly concerned.

He shakes his head.

"Then what did you do?"

"Networked," he says.

I turn to look straight ahead and sigh deeply. This is not a life I know.

When we get to the hotel, I'm pretty sure it's the tallest building I've ever seen after looking up. The handful of times I've stayed in a hotel, they've been something like the Holiday Inn or something of that caliber. Nothing like this.

"So, I'll see you for dinner tonight at Davio's Northern," Catherine says, rolling down her window as the two of us stand outside with our suitcases. "Dress nice."

If I'm not mistaken, she looks me up and down. I've never felt more self-conscious.

"We're going to dinner with the guys tonight, mom," Jackson says. "We'll meet you there for dessert."

She narrows her eyes as she thinks it over. "Fine," she says. "But don't keep me waiting."

As the car drives away, I make an incredulous sound. "Jackson," I say, matching his step as we walk inside. "How much does this place cost a night?"

"It doesn't matter," he says, handing our bags off to the bellboy.

"It does," I say, looking around. Everything is shiny and new. Spotless. High quality. I feel like if I touch something, it'll either break or I'll stain it.

Jackson checks us in, but I don't hear a word he says to the concierge.

"It has to be like, 500 a night," I say, looking around as we walk through the lobby.

He leads the way to the elevator and we get inside. "Around a thousand, actually," he says.

My jaw drops to the floor. "You're kidding," I hiss. "We can't stay here. A thousand dollars, Jackson?! I… I… that's more than a month's rent for me! A month!"

"Babe," he says, laughing. "You gotta calm down."

"How am I supposed to calm down when you're taking out a small loan for one night in a hotel?"

The doors open for our floor and he starts walking like he knows the place so well. It dawns on me that this isn't the first time he's stayed here, of course it's not.

"April, this is what I'm used to," he says. "I'm not saying that to be cocky or to talk down to you. But… I come from money. Let me give you nice things."

He swipes the key card to our room and the door opens to things more lavish than I've ever seen. Instead of just a room with a bed in the middle, there's a bedroom, a balcony, a breakfast area, a living room, a huge bathroom, there's everything.

"This is bigger than Meredith's whole house," I say, deadpan.

He starts laughing. "No, it's not," he says. "Now you're just being silly."

I walk around the room, taking everything in. I can't believe how pristine it all is. And it's all for us, just us. I sit down on the edge of the bed and let my shoulders slump, turning to look at him. "Okay," I say. "I'll be done freaking out about it. But this isn't gonna be a thing, mister."

"Ooh, mister," he says.

"I'm serious!" I insist. "I don't want you splurging on me all the time. A thousand dollar hotel rooms, what's next?"

He sits down next to me, sliding an arm around my shoulders and pressing his face to the side of mine. "A yacht," he says. "A 17-carat diamond ring." He kisses my cheek, and chills run up my spine. "Your dream house. Everything you've ever wanted." He kisses my jaw, pulling my waist closer. "Sound good?"

I flop down on the bed and hold his collar, studying him with gentle eyes.

"What?" he says.

I continue to blink, stroking the fabric of his shirt that rests by his neck. He slides a hand to rest on my stomach, pushing my sweater up so my bare skin is exposed. He bends, kisses right above my bellybutton, then looks back up to where I'm still studying him.

"What?" he says again.

I move my hands from his neck to his head, brushing my palms back. One side of my lips pulls up when I say, "I love you."

It's the first time I've said it. Until now, I wasn't quite sure of the muddled feelings traded between my head and heart. But as I lie here underneath him as he promises me the world, I don't need to wonder anymore.

His face breaks in a huge grin and he buries his face in my neck, pressing warm kisses there while hugging me close. "I love you, too," he says, rolling over to his back so I can sit on his torso.

"You do?" I ask, giggling, hands braced on his chest.

He holds my hips. "Of course I do," he says. "Not only are you my best friend, you're my baby mama."

I roll my eyes and rest my back against his bent knees.

"And my fiancee," he says, running his hands up my thighs to play with my belt loops. "My soon-to-be wife."

He slips my button undone and moves to the zipper, and I watch him with curiosity. "We should talk about that," I say, still watching his fingers move. Once my jeans are undone, he finds the bow on my panties and runs his pointer finger over it. "I want to start planning."

"Mm-hmm," he says, dipping his fingers inside the waistband. His eyes aren't on my face anymore, that's for sure.

"I think I want to have it in the fall," I say, and he works on getting my jeans lower on my hips. I don't help him at all, and he doesn't ask me to. "Having it outside is risky, but I know you don't want it in a church." I gasp. "Oh! Can we still have butterflies? You promised me butterflies."

He only gets my jeans down a couple inches, and ends up just sliding his hand down the front of my pants and touching me over my underwear. Still, I try to ignore him.

"Jackson," I say. "Butterflies?"

"Huh?" he says, winding his hands around my butt to pull me closer. "Yes, babe. Anything you want."

"Okay, good," I say. "I don't know where we're going to get butterflies, but we'll figure it out. I will."

"Baby..." he says, and I can hear a hint of a whine in his voice. "I love hearing you talk. You know I do. But can you please off take your pants? They're killing me."

I pinch my lips together, but can't help my smile. I stand for a moment and wriggle out of my jeans as he gets situated higher on the bed, resting on his side propped up by an elbow. He pats the spot next to him, and I crawl there to lie on my back.

"Anyway," I say, now pantsless. "I know you're going to tell me there's no budget on the dress, but I really think there should be. My parents are going to want to pay for some of this, and if you tell them what you're looking at spending, their heads will fly off."

"Shirt," he says, and my eyes flit to him before sitting up halfway and pulling my sweater over my head. He smiles, wraps an arm around my waist, and murmurs, "Bra," with his lips moving against my bare shoulder.

I let out a little sigh, undoing the clasp before throwing that garment away, too. "Jackson," I say. "I'm serious. Weddings are a huge deal."

"I know they are," he says, now hovering over me. He's still fully clothed, but that doesn't stop him from getting handsy. "And I'm listening."

I rest my arms above my head so my chest is exposed, and he kisses the underside of my breast. "I think I want my bridesmaids in coral pink," I say, nodding to solidify it. He moves his lips to my nipple, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue to harden it. "Oh," I say in response, then clear my throat. "We have to have the little party favors, the mints. The ones that say 'mint to be.'" I giggle to myself. "I've always wanted that."

"We'll have them," he says, palming my other breast. "Anything you want."

"Well, don't get crazy," I say, shuddering as he runs his teeth over my wet, stiff nipple. "There has to be some limits."

"No limits," he says, kissing his way higher to the soft inside of my bicep. "I mean it. Anything."

I chuckle, turning my head to one side as he closes his mouth around my earlobe, sucking on the skin behind it after. "You're just saying that to get on my good side," I say. "So you can get in my pants."

He laughs. "I'm already in your pants," he says. "I'm saying it because I mean it."

"What about cake?" I ask. "I'm okay with a small-"

"I want the biggest, most decked-out cake ever," he says, hand slipping down my stomach. "Vanilla."

"No," I say. "Chocolate."

He smiles, moving so his face follows his hand. "Both," he says.

"Two cakes?"

"Three," he says. "Four, five, ten. A hundred cakes."

"Now you're just getting crazy," I say with a giggle.

I find him between my thighs, pulling my underwear down to cast it aside. His eyes flash - we both know what he wants to do - but I keep him at bay with the heel of my palm to his forehead.

"We have to get ready to leave," I say. "We don't want to be late for your friends."

He pushes against my hand, landing a kiss on my inner thigh. "Since when do you turn down head?" he murmurs, lips moving against my skin.

"Since we're on a schedule," I say.

He runs his pointer finger down my outer lips, which makes my hips twitch and my core tighten. "But you're already wet," he says. "Why waste it?"

I let my head collapse on the pillow, groaning with frustration at how convincing and absolutely seductive he is. "Okay," I say. "But we don't have a lot of time."

"Good thing I don't need a lot of time," he says, kissing my center.

I hold onto the back of his skull and pull him closer, my mouth hanging open as he goes to work on my core. I let out a loud, rattled sigh as he finds the nerves just inside me, pulling them into his mouth and pushing two fingers in at the same time. My hips lift from the mattress and I can't help but squeeze his head between my thighs, and he smiles as he goes.

I whimper loudly, desperately, as my muscles tense and fall apart, heartbeat fluttering between my legs and body turning to mush.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, kissing my lower belly and skimming a hand over my now-throbbing core. "Should we get ready?"

After spending way too long stressing over what to wear, I find myself in a long-sleeved black dress and ankle boots, my hair in loose curls as we head to Lansdowne Pub. Apparently, this is the place where Jackson hung out in college with the friends we're going to meet.

"They're loud," he says, while we're in the backseat of a taxi. "I just wanna warn you. They're loud, and they're not always the most polite."

"Jackson, I can handle myself," I say, looking to him instead of out the window. "They're just guys."

"Yeah, but…" he trails off. "I don't know. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, or anything."

"I won't be," I say. "I promise. They were a big part of your life."

"Right," he says, convincing himself more than me. "And now, I just want to-"

"Connect the two parts," I say, reaching over to pat his thigh. "You told me."

He smiles weakly.

"I'll be fine," I say emphatically. "This is gonna be fun."

The atmosphere inside the pub is loud and the lights are dim. Everything smells like beer, which I should've expected. I stay close to Jackson's side as he leads me through sporadic crowds of people, until we finally get to the back of the restaurant where a group of guys are sitting around a big table.

"Avery!" a blonde shouts, and stands up to give him a big hug with an even bigger pat on the back. "And the old ball and chain."

I blink, disconcerted, as the man laughs and sits down. Jackson rubs the back of his neck.

"Hey guys," he says. "This is April, my fiancee."

I give a small wave and look around the half-circle shaped table at the four men sitting there.

"Over here, this is Eddie," Jackson says, pointing to the blonde who had just greeted him. "Then Vince, Peter, and Monty."

I smile politely. "Hi," I say. "It's nice to meet you all."

We sit down, and the one who Jackson introduced as Vince speaks up. "Almost fell outta my goddamn chair hearing you use our god-given names," he says.

I laugh, though I'm not sure why. Jackson mutters something under his breath that I can't hear.

"So what're we eating?" Eddie bellows, jostling Jackson's shoulders. "Oh, also. I heard congratulations are in order!"

"What congratulations?" Vince pipes up.

Eddie jostles Jackson again and nods towards me. "Knocked her up."

A huge hubbub follows with everyone talking at the same time, all of their words crashing and running together. I can't understand a single thing being said, but I just keep smiling.

"Now that you knocked one up, what? You gonna be pussy-whipped forever now, bitch?" Peter says.

I cringe at his choice of words, though I try to stay undetected. But, seriously? Pussy-whipped? Bitch? I raised my eyebrows and remind myself that these are Jackson's friends, not mine. I don't have to love them, I just have to meet them. And that's exactly what I'm doing.

"Shut the fuck up," Jackson says, and his mouth surprises me. He never swears like that around me, not unless we're having sex, that is. It's jarring.

"So, what the fuck is the kid gonna be like?" Monty asks. "A black ginger, or what?"

"Seriously!" Peter echoes. "Now that's a combo I need to see."

I blink hard and cross my arms over my chest, breathing deeply. I just have to get through this dinner, that's all. Then we can be done with these men, hopefully forever.

"Guys, seriously," Jackson says. "Leave it."

"He's no fun anymore," Eddie says. "Who'da thought, 5-in-1 would be the first one of us to settle down? Settle down, get engaged, no less knock the girl up!"

I clear my throat. "5-in-1?" I ask.

Jackson's face flushes and his body languages changes, becomes more closed-off.

"Oh, he hasn't told you about his old college nickname?" Eddie says. "5-in-1. 5 girls, one night. The most iconic fucking night ever, am I right?"

Jackson's eyes dart to me and he shrugs, looking helpless. I open my mouth to say something, but I have no clue what I'd say.

"That was a long time ago," he says to them. "You can call me by my actual name now."

"As if you didn't coin everyone sitting at this table's nicknames!" Peter shouts.

"Yeah," Monty says. "You're the genius behind ED Eddie. I mean, come on, man. Don't give that up."

I grit my teeth and take Jackson's upper arm tightly. "Can I talk to you?" I say. "Privately?"

"Oooh…" the table choruses, but I ignore them and pull Jackson off to the side.

"Babe-"

"ED Eddie?!" I hiss. "Seriously? 5-in-1?"

"That's not me anymore," he says. "These guys are idiots. April, I told you. I told you that-"

"You didn't tell me they'd be so insulting," I say, hand skimming over my stomach.

"I'll talk to them," he says. "They're not as bad as they seem, I promise. They're just showing off."

I look to the side, lower lip trembling. Now is not the time for emotions, but I can't seem to help it.

"Babe, babe, no," he says, taking my chin so I'll look at him. "Don't cry. It'll be fine. I'll tell them to cut the shit, and we'll have a nicer dinner. They have the best mozzarella sticks here. You love those."

I sniffle in. "I do love those," I peep.

"See? Yeah," he says. "There's the silver lining. Come on, let's go back."

When we get back to the table, the guys are snickering. "Pussy-whipped…" Eddie sings quietly.

I bristle and look pointedly at Jackson, who straightens his shoulders. "Ease up," he says. "You're not impressing anyone, so stop having a pissing contest on who can be the most inappropriate. It's sad."

They raise their hands, palms up, to show surrender. "Jesus, sorry, man," Monty says. "We were just having fun."

"Well…" Jackson says, shaking his head with a terse expression.

"My guess is April isn't finding it fun," Eddie says. "Sorry, we're just used to the guy your man used to be." He looks at me while he says the last part.

I don't comment, and neither does anyone else. We dredge through ordering our food, and have meaningless conversation until it arrives. When it finally does, Eddie talks up the waitress and winks at her as she leaves.

"Seriously, dude?" Peter says. "That?"

"What?" Eddie says. "I'm in a dry spell. I'll go for anything at this point."

"Low-ass standards," Vince says. "I'd expect 5-in-1 to hit that, not you."

Jackson scoffs. "Yeah," he says. "In the dark."

I slowly set my fork down and stare at my food. The man next to me isn't the same one who was just in the hotel room, I don't recognize this one. Nor do I think I like him very much.

"Babe, you're not eating," Jackson says, a few minutes later after being caught up in conversation with his friends.

"Guess I'm not hungry," I say, leaning back against the booth.

"You sure?" he asks. "This is your favorite-"

"I'm sure," I say, clipped.

"Okay..." he says, picking back up his utensils. The guys laugh as they'd been watching us, then pick up where they left off in conversation. I don't speak for the rest of the time we're there, and after we pay the bill, I pick up my purse and sling it over my shoulder as I stand and wait for Jackson to say his goodbyes.

"Dude," I hear Vince say. They think I'm not listening, I can tell. "You gotta tell me. I've always wondered. I've never been with a redhead. Does the carpet match the drapes?"

My mouth gapes and I spin around on my heel before Jackson even has a chance to defend me. "That is wildly inappropriate!" I shrill, catching everyone's attention. "I'm standing right here. And that's no such thing to ask Jackson about me, that's personal, and none of your business. Not to mention, so gross of you to even think about. No wonder you're all alone. Not one of you knows how to act with any human decency!"

I don't stay to watch their reactions. Instead, I storm out and know that Jackson is right on my heels.

"Babe," he says, struggling to keep up as I push open the door and walk down the sidewalk. "Baby, slow down."

"Don't call me pet names right now."

"Okay," he says, sighing. "April. Please, slow down."

"We have to meet your mother," I say, raising my arm and hailing a cab on the first try. "Get in."

I don't speak on the car ride to Davio's Northern, nor do I have much to say once we're sitting at a table across from Catherine. I try not to make my iciness obvious to her, but I interact with Jackson as little as I can. She gives me a big hug goodbye once it's time to go, and we get in a cab for the last time today.

"Please, talk to me," he says, quietly.

I continue to look out the window, unresponsive.

We get to our hotel room and without words, I turn on the luxury shower and take my time in there. When I come out, I put on a fluffy robe and comb out my hair, staring at myself in the mirror. There's an unwelcome, sinking feeling in my gut as I realize I don't know as much about Jackson as I thought I did.

I come out and he's sitting on the edge of the bed, taking his watch off. He looks up when I enter the room, trying to gauge my mood with his eyes. I cross to grab lotion from my suitcase, and put it on my legs while faced away from him.

"You were a bully," I finally say.

He takes a moment before responding. "I didn't mean to be, I was-"

"Not tonight," I snap. "In college. With them. You were a bully."

I turn around to find him watching me, wearing a vulnerable expression. "What?" he says.

"The way you talked about the waitress," I say. "That you'd only do her 'in the dark?'" I shake my head. "I didn't know that's how you rolled, Jackson. Good to know, I guess."

"That was out of line," he says. "I'm sorry. When I get around them, my brain just gets all messed up and crazy. Like I'm back in college, or something."

"They aren't nice people," I say, rubbing the lotion into my wrists. "I don't want to see them again. They made fun of me."

"They didn't make fun of you," he says. "They were trying to include you. That's just how they work."

"Why are you sticking up for them?" I ask, throwing my hands up. "I'm standing here and telling you that your friends hurt my feelings, and you're sticking up for them. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I…" His shoulders deflate as he sighs. "Probably not good. I'm sorry."

"They made me feel how I used to feel," I say, voice wobbling. I cross my arms and lean back, shifting my weight to one hip. "You know I was bullied all through school. Elementary, middle school, high school, college. By guys just like them!"

"Honey…"

"Please don't 'honey' me right now," I say, curling a tendril of wet hair behind my ear. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I don't let them fall. "They bullied me then and they bully me now."

"We don't have to see them again."

"I'm not that girl anymore," I insist, still on my tangent. "I don't have braces and acne and frizzy hair. I don't write boys' papers for them just so I'll get looked at, for just a second. I'm not desperate for any sort of attention, I'm a badass trauma surgeon. I know who I am now. I'm confident. And tonight, earlier… they made me feel like I used to." I shake my head. "I don't want to feel like that. Ever again."

He stands up from the bed and walks slowly, wondering how close he can get. I'm not sure myself, but I watch him proceed.

"It made me go back into that mindset," I say, sniffling. "It made me think, well, then why are you even with me? If you think so much like them? Am I just a big joke to you, too?"

His mouth gapes. "April, no," he says, finally making it to me. He holds my upper arms and I let him. "You're the furthest thing from a joke. You're beautiful, funny, smart. You can outwit me in a second, drink me under the table. You're better at surgery than me, not to mention way more organized. You're loving, caring and kind. And you're gonna be the best mother. I love you."

I wipe my nose. "I know I'm being insecure," I say.

"I don't care. Because I'm gonna be here for you. And if those idiots bothered you, they're gone. I don't even care. They did act horrible, you're right. And I shouldn't have let myself stoop to that level. I wish I could take it back."

"That's not who you are, is it?" I ask, openly crying now. "I know you, right? The Jackson I know, that's you, right?"

"Of course it is," he says, framing my face and to kiss me. He licks his lips after he pulls away, probably tasting my tears. "You know me better than anyone. You know a side of me I'd never let them see." He kisses me again, soft and slow. "You get the biggest part of me, the part no one else gets. That's all for you."

"That Jackson, back at the pub," I say. "I don't know if I like him. I don't think I do."

"I don't, either," he admits. "But he's gone. He was just who I used to be. All those guys, they're gonna lead sad lives because they'll never move on from that stage."

I run my hands down his chest as he gently wipes my tears. "I love the you right now," I say.

"The me right now loves you as you've always been," he says. "And that's a fact."