Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
A few minutes later, Whitney stomped out—the Louis Vuitton duffle bag she’d talked me into buying as her hospital bag on her shoulder. Her face was indignant. “You’re the one who should leave,” she spat. “I’m the one who’s pregnant.”
My eyes dropped to her belly. I swallowed. “Yeah? With whose baby?”
31
WILDER
“Whatever you did, we’ll fix it.” Andrew slid onto the stool next to me.
I raised my hand to order another drink, though I’d already had one too many, and shook my head. “I don’t think even you can get me out of this mess.”
“Well, you got me out of bed at three in the morning. So why don’t you clue me in on what we’re talking about and let me be the judge of that.”
I deadpanned at my friend. “I told Sloane I loved her earlier tonight.”
“So? How the hell does that equate to…” He dug his cell from his pocket and swiped to open, reading the text I’d sent him an hour ago. “‘I fucked up. I royally fucked up.’ Does that mean you don’t love her? Did it come out during sex? I’ve done that before. Some orgasms affect our brain, man.”
I sucked back the rest of my whiskey. “No, we were on the dance floor at a wedding, and I love her. I love her more than anything I’ve ever loved.”
“More than that ratty purple bear you carried around until you were like seven and I know you still have somewhere, even though you deny it?”
I sighed. “Way more than Mr. Bongo.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Didn’t you hear me? I fell in love.”
“So? It’s not a deadly virus. It won’t kill you.”
“It almost did last time.”
“When were you ever in love?”
“I loved my high school girlfriend and my mother—both of whom died. And then there’s Whitney.”
“You never loved Whitney.”
“I loved our baby.”
Andrew smiled sadly. “I know you did, man. But this is different.”
“No, it’s not.” I met his eyes. “Sloane’s pregnant.”
My friend’s shoulders slumped. “Oh fuck.”
The bartender walked over. I ordered a refill, and Andrew ordered a vodka seltzer. Neither of us said a word until we had our drinks and were a few sips in.
Eventually, it was Andrew who spoke. “What did you say when she told you?”
“Nothing. I took off like a fucking coward. Last night was another wedding. I left her standing on the damn dance floor. Didn’t even say goodbye to the bride or groom.”
“Dick move, but okay. You’ll apologize. Grovel. Do you think she loves you back?”
“She said she did.”
“Then she’ll forgive you. Look at me—I did something much worse to Camille, and she’s giving me another chance. You acted like an idiot. Sloane will get over it.” He smirked. “She should probably get used to it if she’s going to be around a while.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure I can do it.”
“You gotta trust someone again sometime, Wilder.”
I sucked back my drink. It burned going down. I’d never liked liquor much. “Who says?”
“Well, I suppose you don’t. But then you stand to lose the woman you love and your child. I guess you have to make a decision. What’s scarier—the thought of taking a chance and maybe being let down again, or the thought of losing Sloane and the baby?”
32
SLOANE
I couldn’t believe two weeks had gone by. I still hadn’t told anyone I was pregnant, except for Wilder. His reaction had devastated me, made me recoil and turn inward. But I needed to talk to someone. I could have gone to Elijah. He would’ve been supportive, but instead, I’d decided to go to my brother Will.
It was early Saturday afternoon, and I knew the bar would be empty. So I picked up a pie from our favorite pizza place and went to pay him a visit.
Will was wiping down the counters, but he stopped when I walked in. “Uh-oh. When do you need off?”
I smiled. “I don’t need off.”
He squinted. “Does the pie have pepper and onions?”
“It does.”
He resumed wiping the counter. “Then you want something.”
I laughed. “Can’t I just want to spend time with my big brother?”
He took out his wallet. “How much do you need?”
I swiped the rag he was using from his hands and threw it at him. “Jerk.”
He smiled. “What’s going on, Peaty?”
I climbed up on a stool and flipped open the pizza box, grabbing a slice. A few droplets of grease dripped on the bar as I brought the tip up for a bite. “Sorry.”
Will shook his head and reached under the bar for a roll of paper towels. “Some shit never changes.” He positioned the top of the open box under where I was eating. “Here. Use this.”
There wasn’t an easy way to start this conversation, so I decided to just come out with it. “So … I’m pregnant.”
Unfortunately, Will had just bitten into his slice, and he started to choke, really choke. I stood on my seat and climbed over the bar, ready to do the Heimlich maneuver. But he held his hand out, stopping me. His face was red and his voice hoarse, but at least he was able to chirp out words. “No.” He coughed. “I’m good.”