Alcohol You Later (13)



I want to curse the cosmos and scream and sob at the unfairness of it all.

I want to punch him… And in the very next breath wrap him in my arms and reassure this man who I love with every beat of my broken heart that everything will be okay.

“We don’t know anything yet,” he repeats, swiping the tears dripping from my chin away with shaky thumbs.

Wordlessly, I stare up at him—at the apology written in every line marring his chiseled face.

He knows…

“Can we finally fucking open the results and put an end to this charade?” Aiden, who’s normally the most even tempered of the group, snarls, rising from his spot on the couch. The sight of my tears has sent him over the edge. It’s a rarity to be sure, and I’d be positively humiliated if I could feel anything beyond this agonizing pain.

“The what?” I stammer, positive I’ve just misheard him. “You have test results, and you haven’t looked at them?”

“They came this morning,” Nicholas answers. “But I wouldn’t let them open them. I needed you to be here first.” His Adam’s apple bobs with the clearing of his throat. “You’re my best friend.”

How can he play on my heart’s strings while simultaneously obliterating the damn thing?

“It’s kinda romantic,” Korie pipes from her position across the room.

I stare at her. “You and I have entirely different definitions of romance, Kor.”

Anika whips a sealed envelope from her messenger bag and waits for his nod of approval before tearing into it.

“Can I?” Lyle asks, passing his baby off to Rhett, who doesn’t hesitate to take him but holds the little boy with his arms extended, like he’s a feral cat who might bite. “I’ve dreamed of playing Maury since I was a little boy.”

Shaking her head in exasperation, she hands the folded document over.

Of course she does, because why not turn this incredibly serious situation into a game for everyone’s favorite dumbass?

Lyle cracks his neck this way and that before running the fingers of one hand through his boy band locks. He clears his throat and sends a wink my way before unfolding and then snapping the document with the flick of a wrist for effect.

“When it comes to the paternity of twenty-one-month-olds Ava and Alex, Nicholas Potter, you are…”





My life is a motherfucking circus.

“Come on, man,” I growl at Lyle, who’s only chosen the most nerve-wracking moment of my life to live out his fantasy of hosting a drama-filled talk show. “The drumroll isn’t necessary,” I snap, squeezing Raven’s hand a little tighter.

She doesn’t react.

The look on her face when she saw the babies was everything I’ve dreaded.

Her tears. Fuck…that shit ripped the soul right from my body. I’ve managed to hurt the one person I promised myself I never would, and I don’t even begin to know how to fix it. I’ll never be able to give her what she wants. I thought I could hold her at arm’s length…tried keeping things casual between us. For her sake. But there was nothing casual in the way she just broke. There’s nothing casual about the overwhelming fear that’s consumed me regarding her reaction from the moment I read that damned letter.

She loves me. It’s plain as day and the worst possible outcome.

I’m damaged goods…incapable of the type of love she, or any woman, deserves.

I’m impulsive, and a dope-head, to boot.

Not to mention the list of girls I’ve screwed could go on for miles—nameless, faceless bodies who blur together collectively, making up an ocean of regret.

Raven deserves better. Better than me. And better than this…

“You are the father.” It’s exactly what I expected, yet the words still echo in my head, ringing in my ears and stealing the very breath from my lungs.

The room is radio silent apart from my idiot friend oohing like he’s in middle school, like he hasn’t just delivered a massive blow—one that will change every one of our lives.

Though I’m surrounded by all of the people I love, there is only one reaction I care about. Hers. “Are you okay?” I drop to my knees at Raven’s feet, bringing her knuckles to my lips. Each kiss is an apology. A silent prayer for her forgiveness.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Her face appears as if it was cast from stone—void of all emotion. Her earlier tears are now nothing but residue dried to her cheeks.

“I’m only okay if you are.” It’s the most truthful thing I’ve ever said to this woman, who’s come to mean more to me than my own life—not that you’d ever know it from my actions.

She licks her lips, nodding slowly. “They’re beautiful, Nicholas.”

“You’re beautiful,” I counter, fully aware of how selfish it is of me to take this moment to focus on my relationship with Raven. But I’ve never made any attempt to hide how shitty of a person I am. It’s impossible for me to even think about those kids right now. She is all I’m concerned with—what this is doing to her and what it might mean for our friendship.

She sighs, trying to pull off flippant, but she’s wound just as tight as I am. It’s evident in her rigid posture. In the white-knuckled fists balled at her sides. “I guess congratulations are in order, huh?”

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