Mid-July 2029 hung heavy over Montclair, New Jersey, the summer air thick as I left Valley Hospital, my nurse’s scrubs clinging after a long shift. One week had passed since my pregnancy scare, the negative test a relief but a reminder of my reckless bathroom hookup with Justin at Lila’s Greenwich Academy graduation. His vows on Montauk’s beach during the Drake family vacation—I love you, Kayla—had reignited our spark, but TMZ’s latest headline, Kayla Reed’s Pregnancy Scare? Drake’s Nurse Back in the Game!, had turned my relief to dread. My jet-black hair was tied in a practical bob, my plus-sized curves in a simple T-shirt and jeans, no sapphire ring or necklace adorning me. Both stayed in Montclair—the ring on my nightstand, the necklace in a jewelry box—a choice to guard my heart after
