I cringe at the thought. She probably thinks I’m a liar and a piece of shit.
“She loves you,” Asher announces. “I’m sure you both will be able to work it out.”
“Ha, I wish it were that easy, brother. It’s not.” I drop my head into my hands groaning, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces on the floor. “I love her, Asher. Love her. And I’ve fucked it all up by getting some one-night stand pregnant after I’ve been telling Bailey that I don’t want children. Ever. And then I go and have a kid with some random woman. Do you know what this means for her and me? We’re over, she won’t be with me if that baby is mine, and I couldn’t blame her for it either.”
“Look, let’s read over this paperwork. Maybe the kid’s not even yours?” The sound of rustling papers causes me to lift my head. Asher starts going through the papers, while I stare at him, my expression stoic. I’ve already read over them, scanning every single word. Everything seems to line up, her due date is January, she got pregnant in March. That’s around the time we had sex. It was long before I started dating Bailey, but still, it feels like I betrayed her.
What the fuck do I do? How do I ever make this right again?
“So, you did wear a condom?”
“I did, but like she said, they are not one hundred percent full proof… I looked it up to make sure. It can happen. At best, I should just stop having sex if I don’t want to run the risk of having any more slip-ups.”
Asher continues looking over the papers with a sober expression on his face. I don’t know why, everything is there, everything adds up. He’s not going to find anything that I haven’t. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his eyes narrow. He snatches his phone from the table and starts to type something into it, his fingers moving furiously.
What the fuck is wrong with him? I start to bounce my leg up and down subconsciously. I’m seriously going to rip his phone out of his hand if he doesn’t start talking soon.
A moment later, he turns the phone screen toward me, shoving it into my face. I squint to look at whatever he’s showing me. On the screen is some kind of website.
There is a little box with a date, above it, the word Pregnancy Conception Calculator. There’s a fucking website for this shit. I glance down at the date again. March first. I blink, still not getting what the hell it is he’s showing me.
“What are you showing me here?”
Asher rolls his eyes. “That’s the day she got pregnant.”
“Okay?” I question, why the hell does the exact date matter? Karma is being a major bitch to me right now. Of course I couldn’t remember the exact date I slept with her. Fuck, I’ve slept with so many women. There’s no way in hell I could possibly keep track of the exact dates I had slept with them. Though March does seem about right. Nine months from March is January. Even I don’t need some stupid website to do the math on that one.
“March first?” Asher questions again, brow cocked, a stupidly smug grin on his lips. “Were you not in Atlanta the first two weeks of March?”
I don’t know why, but I stand up, my knees hitting the coffee table, sending a jolt of pain up my body. My brain seems to kick into high gear at the movement.
“Yes!” I exclaim like I just found a pot of gold. Yes, I was out of town the first two weeks in March. Now that I have the time frames down in my head, the events of those days start to line up, like missing puzzle pieces falling into place. I recall being sick right before the trip. I stayed home and almost thought I couldn’t go. I ended up feeling better and went on the trip. I came back on a Friday and went out that night. Saint Patrick’s Day! The green dress. Kelly was wearing a green dress because of it! Everything falls back into place.
“Saint Patrick’s Day is on the seventeenth of March, right?”
“Yes,” Asher confirms.
“Fucking, thank you, God. I’m not the father,” I sigh, relief like I’ve never felt before washes over me. “I slept with her on Saint Patrick’s Day. I remember now. We met at the Irish Pub, she was wearing a green dress. If she got pregnant at the beginning of March, then there is no way I’m the father.”
Asher leans back against the couch, tossing the papers into the air. “You owe me, and I do mean big fucking time.”
“Whatever you want. I don’t give a fuck. Name it.” I scrub a hand down my face, my lips tugging up into a smile without thought. All I need to do now is to confront Kelly and win Bailey back. Asher rubs at his jaw, looking lost in thought.
“I’ll get back to you on that,” he responds, sitting back up, his elbows resting on his knees, “I think it’s best to contact Kelly and let her know that you’re not the father and you will not be covering any of her expenses. If she wants to fight you on it, then she’ll need to get a lawyer.”
“Damn right she will. Let’s call her. I want to get this over with as soon as possible, but right now I need to go see Bailey. I have to tell her I’m not the father, that whatever Kelly told her was a lie.”
Asher waves me away. “Yeah, yeah, go win the girl and get your happily ever after.”
Fishing my keys from my pocket, I start toward the door, stopping mid-step. Fuck, I didn’t even say thank you. I twist around and walk back into the living room, leaning against the entranceway.
“Thank you. I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re a pretty kick-ass big brother.”
Asher rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome, now go fix this shit. I’ve got a pounding headache just from dealing with your drama.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I know what I’ve got to do. This time I don’t stop. I walk out of Asher’s house and out to my car.
I climb into the driver’s seat and start the car. Gripping the steering wheel with a death grip, I put the car into drive and head off in the direction of Bailey.
I’m going to win my girl back, my future back.
17
Bailey
* * *
I’m almost asleep when someone rings the doorbell. No, they don’t simply ring it, it’s more like they hold it down. The bell keeps chiming, the non-stop sound giving me an instantaneous headache. If that’s Erin on the other side of that door, I’m going to be pissed. I told her she didn’t need to drive all the way out here and coddle me. It might feel like I’m dying, but I’m not, maybe emotionally but not literally.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I growl, padding thunderously down the hallway. My father steps out of his bedroom, meeting me in the hall on my way downstairs. Just like myself, he is already in his pajamas, ready to go to sleep. Whoever this is, is going to get an ear full. Who am I kidding? I know exactly who that is.
“Want me to go and send him away?” Concern is written all over his face.
“No, I’ll go do it.” Right now, anger is consuming me. There is so much fury inside of me that I have no room to feel anything else. Reaching the front door, I unlock it and rip it open, my hand biting into the iron handle.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell into Elijah’s face as soon as our eyes meet. Mine spitting with anger, while his hold shame, regret, and deep sadness. I want to continue my verbal assault. Tell him he is an asshole and that I hate him and want him to leave, but all those words get stuck in my throat. Why is he here? Why? Why can’t he just go be with supermodel baby momma? Seeing him is only making my heart gush fresh blood.