I reach up to the tallest cabinet above the fridge and pull out the bottle of Jameson, my good friend who doesn’t judge me when we hang out too much. I owe this motherfucker thousands of dollars in therapy. The liquid burns but feels almost euphoric, seeping down my throat.
Lately, all I’ve done is pretend—pretend that I’m okay in front of my family. I put on a brave face and make it through the day for my daughter … and then I go to bed, wanting nothing more than to rip myself out of my skin.
I flinch when I hear my front door slam and take the bottle with me to investigate. I stumble back at the sight of the last person I expected to show up at my door tonight.
“Yikes, what the hell are you doing here?” I ask. “Stella decide to leave your ass already?”
Hudson snatches the bottle from my hand with a snarl. “We need to talk.”
I put my hands in the air. “If it’s about me cornering Willow, I only did it, so we’d be civil during your wedding festivities.”
He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a sip. “I, uh …” He takes another. “I have a feeling the two of you are going to have to learn to be civil long after my wedding.”
His response doesn’t make sense, but I’m blaming it on the alcohol. “I won’t be an asshole again, okay? I tried to apologize, but the chick wasn’t having it.” Not that I blame her. I pulled the biggest dick move out of all dick moves … because all I was thinking with was my dick.
“Willow is pregnant.” He grinds the words out, the air in the living room shifting to something I don’t recognize.
I blankly stare at him. “Okay?” My heart sinks that she’s found someone else. No wonder she wanted nothing to do with me. She’s found a man who isn’t a broken asshole. Good for her. I would’ve only ruined her.
“Willow. Is. Pregnant,” he stresses.
I’m not catching his drift. What does he want me to do? Throw her a baby shower? “I’ll be sure to buy her a gift.”
The coffee table shakes when he pounds his fist against it. “Willow is pregnant with your goddamn baby, you fucking dumbass. I thought you’d be smart enough to put two and two together.”
Good thing he grabbed the bottle from me. This would’ve been the moment it crashed on to my hardwood floor. “You’re fucking with me.”
His straight face answers my question. He can’t give a DNA test with his eyes, but I believe him.
“Why would you assume it’s mine? We slept together once.”
“I overheard her telling Stella.”
I digest his news and swallow a few times before grabbing my keys. A picture cracks when I throw them across the room as I realize I’m in no condition to drive.
“I need a ride.”
“The fuck you do. In case you forgot, I got engaged tonight. I’ve already missed a few good hours because I couldn’t think of pussy when I knew I was keeping this from you.”
“How very noble of you,” I mutter, wincing when he slaps the back of my head. “Stella’s vagina doesn’t have a curfew. Take me to Lauren’s.”
“Hell no. Stella will bite my dick off the next time I ask for a blow job.”
“Take me to Lauren’s, or I’ll walk.”
“Get in my fucking truck.”
Chapter Three
Willow
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I’m having a nightmare where a psychopath is pounding on the door of Lauren’s apartment. I’ll be murdered, and my skin will be worn as a coat. I don’t realize I’m awake until I hear the familiar, masculine voice.
“Willow!” he screams on the other side of the door.
Bang! Bang!
“I know you’re in there! Open up!”
My heart races, and I slap my hand over my mouth, not sure if it’s because I don’t want to make a peep or I’m close to puking.
“Lauren!”
Bang! Bang!
“One of you had better open this door before I break it down!”
Oh, shit.
Shitty-shit-shit!
I should’ve known Hudson couldn’t keep his fat mouth shut. He probably went and tattled as soon as he got the chance.
I rub my eyes when the lights turn on. Lauren comes rushing into the living room, tying a purple robe around her waist in frustration.
“I hope blood doesn’t make you queasy,” she bites out, stomping her feet.
I raise a brow.
“Because I’m about to castrate my brother.”
If only she had done that sooner.
I pull myself into a sitting position, resting my back on the couch, and shrug like the shitshow about to happen isn’t my fault.
Curse words fly out of her mouth with every step she takes while he continues his tantrum on the other side of the door.
“Jesus, fuck, Dallas!” she yells, swinging the door open. “You’d better be getting a bedroom ready at your place for when I get evicted.”
He bursts into the living room without paying her a glance. His sharp eyes cut straight to me, demanding answers, and his pain-stricken face confirms what I was afraid of. He’s as terrified as I am.
“Is it true?” he blurts out.
Lauren slams the door and storms into the living room. “Is what true?”
His attention doesn’t leave my face. “Are you pregnant?”
I have no words. I’m frozen in place—unable to move, unable to talk, unsure of where to go with this.
“I’m confused as to why that’s any of your business and why you felt the need to show up here like someone is about to blow the place up,” Lauren replies for me.
He doesn’t answer her. His attention stays fixed on me, as if Lauren weren’t even in the room.
“Answer me,” he demands.
I clear my throat, about to cave in and tell him but chicken out and nod instead.
The anguish on his face amplifies. “Is it mine?”
This is the moment.
This is where I have to decide not only my future, but also my baby’s.
“Wait … what?” Lauren screeches.
Chapter Four
Dallas
My head spins like I’ve been beating it against a wall all day.
Not one rational thought has climbed through my brain since Hudson broke the news. He’d been thrown into a tough spot. He either had to betray the woman he loved or his blood.
He chose me. He chose the truth. Instead of fucking his fiancée senseless the night of his engagement, he came over and spilled her best friend’s secret. I would’ve never forgiven him had he kept it from me. Pure ice sinks through my veins as I just think about it.
Lauren is behind me, firing off question after question, but my attention is pinned on Willow. Her green eyes, filled with confliction and scorn, narrow my way.
I take a calming breath as an attempt to help us both relax. “Is the baby mine?” I ask again.
All eye contact shatters when her gaze drops to her lap, and she fidgets with her hands. Sure fucking sign of lying. I stupidly pull out the pregnancy test I forced Hudson to buy at the pharmacy before coming here from my pocket. I can’t decipher if the gasp coming from her is from surprise or anger.