“Jameson,” I answer, feeling my lips tilt up again—something they haven’t done with anyone other than Maven.
She stares at me, blinking.
“Whiskey.”
She pushes the glass up the table with both hands. “Well then, that’s my first and last time drinking whiskey. I’m more of a wine-slash-champagne-slash-give-me-something-fruity kind of girl.”
“Whiskey is stronger on the heart than champagne. You can’t go wrong with trying to forget with whiskey. I promise you that.”
“In that case, order me another.” She pauses to wag her finger at me. “Wait, if it’s such a heart-mender, why aren’t you drinking it?”
I shrug. “I planned on being good tonight with beer.”
She holds her empty glass up. “I planned on champagne. If I’m drinking it, so are you.”
I smile for what feels like the first time in months and hold my hand up to tell the bartender, Maliki, we need another round.
“This’d better work,” she says when Maliki drops off our drinks. She knocks the whiskey down like a pro, inhales a deep breath, and squints her eyes when it’s gone. “Shit, that one was even stronger.”
“It’ll help. I promise.” I tap the table before draining mine. It burns as it goes down.
“Do you miss her?” she asks out of nowhere, as if the question had been on the tip of her tongue all night.
My jaw flexes. I’m surprised at her question. “Every fucking second of the day.” My honesty shocks me. I’ve shut down every conversation my family has tried to have with me about Lucy. “Do you miss him?”
“Every fucking second of the day, and I hate myself for it. I can’t stop missing the parts of him that weren’t terrible.”
Maliki, like he can read my mind, brings us another round. She takes another long drink, and I still in my chair, all of my attention on her while I wait for her to go on.
She scoffs, “This is not a conversation I thought I’d be having tonight. No one brings him up, for fear I’ll want him back if they mention his name.”
I nod, a cloud of grief passing over me. I want to be mad that she’s complaining about losing someone she can take back at any second because I don’t have that option. I’d be irate, pissed, and ready to spit out fire if anyone else had said that to me.
But not with Willow.
I grip my glass and watch her take another sip of her drink. The strap of her green dress hangs off her shoulder, giving me a glimpse of the light freckles sprinkled along her pale skin. I’ve never looked at her, really seen her, until tonight. Her red hair is pulled into two tight buns at the top of her head, a few spirals of perfect curls falling out of them.
“How about we make a toast?” she asks.
I hold up my glass. “To what are we toasting?”
“To getting wasted. To going numb. To forgetting.”
I like the way she thinks. “To drinking the pain away.” I tap my glass against hers. “Let’s drown our sorrows.”
We drink our pain away. We forget our troubles. Hell, we forget everything and everyone around us.
My brain isn’t functioning when I ask my next question. It would’ve never happened if I were sober.
“So, have you tried it out? Had a booty call with this Tinder?”
Chapter Six
Willow
I have to pee.
The bathroom is across the hall, only steps away, but I can’t go. I’m fake sleeping, and I have been for what feels like days. My muscles hurt. My head aches. As soon as Dallas leaves, I’m off Lauren’s couch, out of this town, and on my way back to California.
Even though my back is to him, I can sense him watching, his eyes slicing into my skin, hoping to cut answers out of me. He’ll end up empty-handed because I have nothing for him. My goal is to exhaust him with silence until he gives up.
What happened last night runs through my mind. I’ve never seen Dallas so angry and intense.
In an attempt to go back to sleep, I close my eyes, but my plan is ruined when it hits me. I nearly trip over him when I jump off the couch and race down the hall, straight to the bathroom.
Un-fucking-believable.
Why now?
I make it to the toilet just in time as everything I shoved down my throat last night comes up. It’s disgusting. I’ll never get used to this morning-sickness hell. I flinch when a cold hand moves along my neck to attentively grab my hair and hold it behind my shoulders. He silently kneels next to me and keeps his hand in place until I finish.
“Good ole morning sickness?” His voice is soft and comforting—the complete opposite of what he gave me last night. He must’ve slept off the asshole.
I flush the toilet and slide away from him, my butt hitting the cold tiles, and I rest my back against the bathtub. He waits until I get comfortable and hands me a bottle of water.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a long drink. “It seems morning afters aren’t our thing.”
“I’d have to agree.” He slumps down against the closed door and stares at me, doing what I knew he’d do—wait for answers. His foot brushes against mine when he stretches his legs out. He’s in the same clothes as he was last night, his jeans unbuttoned, and his hair is messy.
I cock my head toward the toilet. “You want a go at it now?”
His thick brows squish together. “Huh?”
“I figured it was your turn to puke your guts out. You had to have been wasted off your ass to tell yourself that showing up last night was a sound idea.”
He chuckles. “I’ll admit, that was a stupid decision. I’d been drinking, but I wasn’t wasted, and I’m sure you understand the shock I was feeling.”
“No,” I reply sarcastically. “I can’t relate at all.”
He found out I was pregnant. I’d found out I was carrying a physical being in my body by someone I couldn’t stand.
He scratches his cheek. “How long were you planning on keeping this from me?” And he jumps right in.
Eighteen years. My entire life if I could’ve gotten away with it.
“To be honest, I have no idea.”
He links his hands together and holds them in front of his mouth, trying to come up with the right words. He blows out a ragged breath. “You don’t like me. I get it. And, to be honest, you’re not exactly my favorite person right now either for keeping this from me. But I have to get over it, just like you have to get over what happened between us.” He points to my stomach. “Because that? That changes shit.”
“It doesn’t change anything. I’m not expecting anything from you. I can do this on my own.”
He holds his hand out, looking shocked. “Let me get this straight. I’m an asshole because I had a minor freak-out after we had sex? What does that make you for your secret? You’ve known you’re pregnant for who knows how long, and you didn’t think it’d be right to let me in on that tidbit of information?”
“You have a halfway good point,” I mutter.
Okay, it’s a full good point, but I won’t give someone credit when I don’t like them.
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. Looks like we’re about to have that talk.”
I snort. “Not happening. I can still taste puke in my mouth. I’m not doing anything but brushing my teeth and getting in the shower.” I narrow my eyes at him. “So, don’t make yourself comfortable. We’re postponing the talk.”
“Okay, princess. Tell me when it’s convenient for you. This afternoon?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You’ll be on a flight tomorrow.”
“And? Lucky for you, they’ve invented this thing called a phone. I’ll call you when I get home.”
“I’d rather do it face-to-face.”
“Then, we can FaceTime.”
He pulls out his phone. “What time is your flight leaving?”
“Why?”
His eyes are on his phone as he starts typing and scrolling his finger
down the screen. “Lucky for me, Hudson booked your flight and sent me the information this morning.”
“Fucking snitch,” I mutter.
“Looks like I’ll be joining you. Hopefully, I can pay off the poor soul who’s stuck next to you, and we can talk about it all the way back to California.” He gives me a cold smile. “It’ll be fun.”
If he thinks his behavior is going to make me work with him, he has another thing coming.
“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I am?” He holds his phone out, so I can see his screen. “Would you look at that? They have seats available.”
“Don’t you think that’s creepy? Following me around? Stalking me?”
“Not stalking you. Asking for answers. This conversation will happen whether you like it or not. I’d prefer not to chase you around the goddamn country, but if that’s what it takes, I will.”
I cross my arms with a snarl. “Fine, I’ll talk to you later.”
His dark eyes level on me. “Promise you won’t bail.”
I force a smile. “I promise.”
He hesitates before getting up and taps his knuckles against the door. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Baby Momma.”
“I hate you!” I yell to his back.
“I’m pissed at the both of you for keeping me in the dark about this,” Lauren says, placing her glare on me before switching it to Stella, who ditched Hudson this morning to show up here with muffins and a list of everything she wanted to know about what had happened with me and Dallas last night. “I have so many questions right now.”
Lauren hasn’t let me do anything since she woke up this morning. She’s a nurse, so you’d think she knows that carrying a baby doesn’t make you disabled.
“Questions I won’t be answering,” I mutter. “No one, except for Stella and Hudson, knew about that night. I was hoping it’d stay that way.”
“One question, and I’ll shut up,” Lauren pleads.
“I’m not talking about having sex with your brother,” I argue.
Her face pinches. “Gross. Not where I was going with this, creep.”
I lean back in the barstool. “You’d better make it a good one because that’s all you’re getting.”
She settles her elbows on the counter and eagerly stares at me from across the island. “How did it happen?”
I wag my finger at her. “I’m blaming it on you.”
She takes a step back and shoves her finger into her chest. “Me? I might get messy drunk sometimes, but I don’t recall telling you to take your panties off and give my brother the business.”
I frown. “Fine. Let’s blame it on the whiskey and lack of entertainment in this town’s only bar.”
Her mouth drops, satisfaction twinkling in her eyes as she puts two and two together. “The night at the pub?”
I stubbornly nod.
“Holy shit. I am to blame.”
Stella scoots in closer. “They’re the last two people I imagined screwing.”
“Screwed,” I correct. “A one-time thing.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Stella asks. “You do know, Dallas isn’t going to let you freeze him out.”
“No.” I was so hell-bent on keeping this a secret, I never thought about what would happen if the truth came out. “We’re talking later.”
Stella perks up. “Like, a date?”
Lauren cracks a smile. “Survey says they’ve surpassed dating. She’s carrying his baby.”
I flip her off, and my throat tightens while I prepare myself to ask her a question I’ve been trying to avoid. I stare at Lauren. “So, you’re not mad at me?”
Dallas’s family’s reaction is another reason I wanted to keep this private. They loved his wife, Lucy, like she was their own, maybe even more than Dallas. He’d started dating her before he even knew his dick could get hard, and I’m some random one-night stand crawling in to replace her.
“Why would I be mad?” Lauren questions. “As long as you’re not screwing the same man as me, I couldn’t care less, and inbreeding isn’t my thing.” She skips around the counter to wrap me in a hug. “It’s no secret that I loved Lucy, but I understand the circumstances. I want my brother to be happy. He needs to move on.” She pulls away and settles her hands on her hips. “Now, my answer would be different had you kept this from him.”
She’s acting cool but also letting me know where her loyalty stands. If she has to pick a side, it won’t be mine. If she thinks I’m the one Dallas needs to move on with, she’s out of her mind, but like so many other times, I choose to keep my mouth shut.
Chapter Seven
Dallas
“Now, there’s a sight for sore eyes.”
Hudson’s voice sends a rumble through my skull. I had too many drinks and bombs thrown at me last night. The way he sluggishly climbs up the stairs and collapses into the red rocking chair next to me tells me he didn’t get much sleep either. Hopefully, for a better reason than mine.
“You’re on my shit list,” he grumbles.
I point to his rib cage that’s exposed by his cutoff T-shirt. “Those scratches of anger or pleasure?”
He holds up his arm and inspects the skin with an amused, almost boyish smile. “Pleasure. Most definitely pleasure.”
I never thought I’d see him happy again after his ex dumped him for his best friend while he was stationed overseas, but Stella came along and changed everything.
“Then, I beg to differ that I’m on your shit list. Had you slept on the couch, I’d feel sorry for you, but from those marks, I’m positive you didn’t. End of discussion.” I hand him the extra cup of coffee I poured while waiting for him to show up, certain he’d make an appearance this morning.
“Not end of discussion. Stella ran off at the ass crack of dawn to gossip at Lauren’s because you knocked up her best friend.”
“Fine, I owe you one. I’ll mow your grass. Work one of your shifts.”
“You going to tell me what went down?”
I snort. “I see Stella isn’t the only gossip enthusiast in your home.”
He scratches his unshaved cheek. “She’s rubbing off on me.”
I drum my fingers against the wooden arm of my chair. “Willow didn’t deny she was pregnant, so I’d say that confirms it.”
The words I’m pregnant never left her mouth, but she would’ve been hell-bent on denying it if it weren’t true. She’s spent years working with Stella’s publicist, making up stories to clean up gossip about Stella. She would’ve had a good-ass comeback if it weren’t true. Hell, I’m surprised she didn’t have an excuse already laid out, waiting for when shit hit the fan.
“And?” he pushes.
“There’s a possibility I’m the father.”
“A possibility? She seemed pretty damn sure about it last night.”
She still does.
“What if it’s not mine though?”
“You and I both know, Willow isn’t like that or a liar. Stella swears Willow hasn’t slept with anyone but you in months.” He chuckles. “Trust me, from the look on her face, she wishes it were someone else’s.”
I scrub my hand over my face, hoping it’ll help clear my head. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He laughs. “Get prepared, brother. This is happening whether you like it or not.”
“We’re talking today, figuring shit out.”
“The first shit should be, figuring out the living situation. That was my biggest struggle with Stella. Blue Beech was out of her comfort zone, and LA was out of mine.”
LA was once my home. I didn’t mind leaving Blue Beech years ago when Lucy asked, but that’s no longer an option. Maven needs to be here with my family. I need the support from them. Willow, on the other hand, is stubborn. I can’t picture her packing up her life and moving away from the chaos of the city life.
“Stella changed,” I argue, trying to convince myself that it could work.
“She did, but that doesn�
��t stop Willow from begging her to move back every time they talk.”
“Fuck,” I hiss. I’m going to have my work cut out for me.
Hudson slaps my shoulder and gets up. “Good luck. Let me know if you need anything, but try to wait a few hours, okay? I have a beautiful fiancée waiting at home for me, hopefully wearing nothing but her engagement ring.”
“What do you mean, she’s not here?” I ask, standing in Lauren’s doorway and feeling a sense of déjà vu from last night. It seems like I’ve done nothing but chase Willow around since Hudson broke the news.
“I mean, she’s not here,” Lauren repeats, shuffling backward to let me in.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter, rushing into her apartment like a madman.
My first pit stop is her bathroom to pull back the shower curtain. All clear. Next is Lauren’s closet. Then, underneath her bed. No sign of Willow.
“She promised,” I repeat over and over again while checking the linen closet. “She fucking promised.”
Lauren meets me in the living room with an apologetic face. “I’m guessing she called a cab and bailed while I was in the shower.”
I collapse on her couch and drop my head back. Lucy never fought me like this. Our relationship was always easy. She was mine. I was hers. No power struggles existed.
“Maybe she went for a walk?” I ask.
The couch dents when Lauren sits down next to me. “Her bags are gone, and I doubt she’s taking a walk with them.”
I slowly lift my head, and she bends forward to snag her phone from the coffee table.
She sucks in a breath a few seconds later and ends the call. “Straight to voice mail.”
“Same with me. That’s why I came over.”
Willow promised.
Promised we’d talk.
Promised she’d stay.
She’s nothing but a goddamn liar.
I’m not letting her run.
I won’t let her shut me out.
Chapter Eight
Willow
I’m a runner.
Not one who runs 5Ks for fun.
Just One Night Page 4
