Dallas

I open the fridge with more force than necessary and snag a beer. My brain pounds when I pop the cap off, take a long yet unsatisfying drink, and set it aside for something stronger.

Nothing will be potent enough for me tonight.

But that won’t stop me from trying.

Maven is at my parents’, so I have no responsibilities tonight.

To say surviving the party was a challenge is an understatement. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it through and good thing I didn’t have to do it sober. I should be glad my brother found happiness, but I’m an asshole living in a dark hole, avoiding the sunlight. I’m only happy I managed not to stand up and object to him asking Stella to marry him.

Marriage isn’t the answer, I wanted to scream out. Don’t let yourself get wrapped up in someone so much, you don’t know who you are when they’re gone.

I pat myself on the back for keeping my mouth shut. The glass bottle feels chilly when it grazes the bare skin of my neck.

Then, I saw Willow. Hudson gave me a heads-up that she was coming, and even if I had tried to argue about it, nothing would’ve changed. She’s Stella’s best friend … and the only other woman I’ve slept with since Lucy died. Hell, the only woman I’ve slept with other than Lucy.

I decided I was going to talk to Willow and make things right between us. The problem was, I wasn’t expecting my chest to ache at the sight of her walking in … or my hands to grow sweaty as I wondered how her skin felt underneath that black dress.

Is it still as soft as it was that night?

Does she still smell like strawberries?

Taste as sweet?

My plan to make shit right went out the window. All I thought about was asking her to come home with me and let me make up for my asshole behavior. I haven’t touched anyone in months, haven’t had the desire to, but seeing Willow made my heart race and my dick stir. Hell, it was a full-time job stopping myself from staring at her every three seconds.

I asked her to breakfast, and she looked at me like I was scum beneath her shoes. I had done a shitty thing, but I’ve tried to man up to it on more than one occasion, and she keeps shooting me down. So, I’m still a lonely asshole who only gets turned on at the thought of his dead wife and a woman who hates him.

I reach up to the tallest cabinet above the fridge and pull out the bottle of Jameson, my good friend who doesn’t judge me when we hang out too much. I owe this motherfucker thousands of dollars in therapy. The liquid burns but feels almost euphoric, seeping down my throat.

Lately, all I’ve done is pretend—pretend that I’m okay in front of my family. I put on a brave face and make it through the day for my daughter … and then I go to bed, wanting nothing more than to rip myself out of my skin.

I flinch when I hear my front door slam and take the bottle with me to investigate. I stumble back at the sight of the last person I expected to show up at my door tonight.

“Yikes, what the hell are you doing here?” I ask. “Stella decide to leave your ass already?”

Hudson snatches the bottle from my hand with a snarl. “We need to talk.”

I put my hands in the air. “If it’s about me cornering Willow, I only did it, so we’d be civil during your wedding festivities.”

He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a sip. “I, uh …” He takes another. “I have a feeling the two of you are going to have to learn to be civil long after my wedding.”

His response doesn’t make sense, but I’m blaming it on the alcohol. “I won’t be an asshole again, okay? I tried to apologize, but the chick wasn’t having it.” Not that I blame her. I pulled the biggest dick move out of all dick moves … because all I was thinking with was my dick.

“Willow is pregnant.” He grinds the words out, the air in the living room shifting to something I don’t recognize.

I blankly stare at him. “Okay?” My heart sinks that she’s found someone else. No wonder she wanted nothing to do with me. She’s found a man who isn’t a broken asshole. Good for her. I would’ve only ruined her.

“Willow. Is. Pregnant,” he stresses.

I’m not catching his drift. What does he want me to do? Throw her a baby shower? “I’ll be sure to buy her a gift.”

The coffee table shakes when he pounds his fist against it. “Willow is pregnant with your goddamn baby, you fucking dumbass. I thought you’d be smart enough to put two and two together.”

Good thing he grabbed the bottle from me. This would’ve been the moment it crashed on to my hardwood floor. “You’re fucking with me.”

His straight face answers my question. He can’t give a DNA test with his eyes, but I believe him.

“Why would you assume it’s mine? We slept together once.”

“I overheard her telling Stella.”

I digest his news and swallow a few times before grabbing my keys. A picture cracks when I throw them across the room as I realize I’m in no condition to drive.

“I need a ride.”

“The fuck you do. In case you forgot, I got engaged tonight. I’ve already missed a few good hours because I couldn’t think of pussy when I knew I was keeping this from you.”

“How very noble of you,” I mutter, wincing when he slaps the back of my head. “Stella’s vagina doesn’t have a curfew. Take me to Lauren’s.”

“Hell no. Stella will bite my dick off the next time I ask for a blow job.”

“Take me to Lauren’s, or I’ll walk.”

“Get in my fucking truck.”