Alcohol You Later (12)

“Dude!” Nick bounds off the couch, nearly knocking me over as he envelops me in his arms, lifting me bridal style and cradling me to his chest. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

I bury my face into his neck, allowing myself a moment to just breathe him in. “Ever heard of a shower?” I tease when the stench of stale alcohol and weed becomes overwhelming. I pepper kisses along his collarbone, still biting back the urge I’ve had to let the floodgates open since stepping off that plane. Because something is still off…I feel it in the quiet tension filling the room—it’s damn near stifling.

“Sorry.” His cheeks flush in the most adorable way. “Been a long couple of days.”

“Is everything okay?” I grip the sides of his face, scrubbing my thumbs over the scruff lining his cheeks, and pull back to meet his eyes.

Those beautiful emerald orbs—I’ve never seen them so weary. All the denials and fake smiles in the world couldn’t disguise the hurt staring back at me.

His pain has a mainline to my heart.

“Definitely not,” he says, setting me to my feet and taking hold of my hand. “But it will be now that you’re here.” He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze before lacing them with his thick digits. His hold is so tight it’s like he’s afraid to let go for fear I might disappear.

“What’s going o—?” My question’s cut short when Korie and Lyle step into the room, each with a toddler-sized baby on their hip. Panic wells in my chest as I immediately recognize Nick’s features in their faces. His green eyes. His white-blonde hair. The little boy has his dimples and the girl, his cleft chin. “Wh—where did those come from?”

I’m weak in the knees and shaking from head to foot.

“Hey, bestie!” Korie squeaks, shifting the baby girl to her other hip. “How was your trip?”

I can’t breathe.

“Don’t,” I warn, glaring at the punky blonde who doesn’t yet even remotely look like she’s expecting, in her black crop top and short denim shorts. Her stomach is as flat as ever.

Her cheeks flame, and she stares as if she wants to say something but physically can’t. Her eyes plead with me for understanding. Then I remember that fucking NDA.

We’re still clinging to that, are we?

“Do not ‘hey, bestie,’ me like this is a casual visit.” My tongue swells so that it’s filling up the entirety of my mouth as I look around at all of the quiet and suddenly very worried faces of my friends. I’ve never felt so deceived.

“Someone better start talking.” I turn my attention to the big, tatted oaf of a man gnawing his lips beside me. “Or I’m turning right back around and catching the next flight home.”

“Please don’t do that,” he begs, gripping my shoulders and staring directly into my fucking soul. For the first time since I’ve known him, he seems fragile—breakable. “I can’t do this without my best friend.”

His confession does something to me. Seeing this man who is usually the pillar of stability—my rock, the one who never fails to lift my spirits—coming apart at the seams has me twisted in knots.

I swallow and swallow and swallow again, trying to dislodge the lump of betrayal blocking my windpipe.

My mother was right.

How could I have misread this situation so grossly? Why couldn’t I have fallen for someone else? Anyone else? Someone with the ability to love me back.

The urge to flee has never been so strong, but I can’t leave him like this. My need to ensure that he’s okay will always supersede my own self-preservation.

“Start. Talking,” I growl.

“Well, you see, after their show the other—”

“Not you,” I snap at Anika, who’s suddenly located her voice. “You had your chance.”

Nick shakes his head, his grip tightening on my shoulders before trailing down my arms, leaving a path of goosebumps behind as he makes to hold each of my hands. “This girl… She dropped them off after our show the other night. Sh—she claims they’re mine…but we don’t know anything for sure yet,” he adds quickly.

I scoff. “You can’t be fucking serious?” It literally looks like someone cloned the man…twice. Exhibit A and B are more than I need to know without a shadow of doubt that those sickeningly adorable tots belong to the man I love…and a woman who is. Not. Me.

My legs begin to shake. The room is spinning.

How can this hurt so fucking much when he isn’t even mine?

“Please, just read this.” He guides me to a chair, apparently recognizing my urgent need for stability before handing me a worn letter from his back pocket. I feel every eye in the room on me as I read aloud. Somehow, I keep an even tone, despite the way my heart feels as if it’s being run through a grinder—for me, for this poor woman, for these innocent babies.

For this man, who I love beyond reason, and his serious case of denial. Does he truly not see what’s so glaringly obvious to the rest of us? Or is he simply clinging to his last thread of hope in what we all know to be a hopeless situation?

“Nick,” I rasp with emotion building in my eyes.

One blasted tear sneaks its way through, fracturing my carefully crafted armor as a current of sorrow blazes a silent path along my cheeks.