Callum

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on?” Griffin asks from the kitchen bar when I walk in. I should have been expecting this. Nothing I do escapes his notice.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, playing stupid. I don’t know how much he knows, and I’m not about to give away something if he doesn’t already know it. I still feel like I’m walking around on eggshells half the time, waiting for the man to tell me he’s gay.

“Cut the shit, man. I’m talking about the pregnant chick you brought home from the hospital. The one in the bedroom down the hall? Ring any bells?” He snaps his fingers, and if we were discussing anything else right now, I’d smile. He reminds me of Beyoncé right now, singing her Put a Ring On It title with the way he is sashaying his hips and snapping his fingers. But now isn’t the time to smile. Now isn’t the time for any of that, because my girl . . . or rather, my ex-girl . . . is in the room down the hall, and I have absolutely no clue how I plan to convince her to stay.

She has to stay.

She’s pregnant with my child.

My daughter.

I should have known to tell Brian to send someone with the ability to keep his trap shut to pick me up, but I wasn’t thinking in that moment. All I wanted was to get Amelia out of the hospital and home where she belongs. Leave it to Lonnie, the asshole who picked us up, to run back and tell Griffin, his cousin, everything he saw and heard.

I had my reservations about hiring Lonnie when Griffin brought it up, but sometimes, Brian isn’t available, and I needed a second driver. Not that I don’t drive myself, because that would be stupid with a capital S, but sometimes, it’s nice to lie back and relax on the way home from a bar, or a game, or the hospital when the thought of being more than five feet away from the woman carrying your child is crippling.

“So who is she? Are you finally back on the steed, man? I mean, I know it’s been a while, but surely you could have picked someone a little less . . . round?” He’s only joking, but that is one thing I will not put up with from him or anyone else. Do not disrespect my woman. I give two shits that she isn’t here and can’t hear what he’s saying. I can, and by talking shit about her, he’s also disrespecting me.

“Shut the fuck up, Griff. Now.”

“Ouch. Did I touch a nerve? Well, tell me. Who’s the Hershey’s Kiss?” White hot rage consumes me. I don’t even think of the consequences. Grabbing him by the throat, I shove him backward against the refrigerator, cutting off all air supply to his lungs. His eyes go wide, terrified of my reaction, and for a second, I feel bad.

Just a second.

Then it passes.

“That Hershey Kiss, as you call her, is Amelia. And right now, she just so happens to be pregnant with my child, so if you even think of muttering one more fucking ignorant word about her, I’ll rip your fucking throat out. Understand?”

He nods his head up and down the best he can, and after another second or two, I release him to catch his breath.

“Fuck, man. Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I just did.”

Reaching into the refrigerator, I grab two Bud Light Platinums and pass one to Griffin before popping the top on mine and swallowing a heavy sip.

“So . . . wow, man. How did you find out?”

“We ran into each other at the pavilion while I was there meeting your interior decorator, who by chance, just happened to be the mother of my child.”

“No shit.”

I don’t bother replying. It’s not the first time I’ve thought about the chance meeting and fate’s hand in my life. If I hadn’t run into Amelia today, who knows how long I would have gone before I knew I had a daughter out there? A month? A year? A lifetime? I wonder if I would have ever found out.

“So are y’all like back together or what?”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet? But you want to be?”

“She’s the mother of my child. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved. Yeah, I want to be. I just need to convince her that she wants it too.”

“Damn, dude. How the hell do you plan on doing that?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

Someone knocks at the door, and assuming it's Lonnie with Carson, I answer it without checking first. Sometimes I never learn. Rhonda slithers her way past me like the snake she is, cooing about how much she’s missed me. Griffin, being the coward that he is, tucks tail and runs as soon as he hears her voice.

Bastard.

He should be the one dealing with her. It’s his leftover mess, but for some God given reason, she has set her sights on me now.

It would be funny if it weren't so pathetic.

“What do you want, Rhonda? Now is not a good time,” I say, exasperated. She doesn't take the hint, instead choosing to wrap her bony arms around my neck and attempt to pull me to her. Normally, I can deal with her with some level of cordiality, but having her touch me the same way in the same place Amelia touched me moments ago really bothers me.

I can still smell her all over me, for fuck’s sake.

“Aw, come on, baby, let me help you,” she says, running her clammy hands along my arms and then wrapping them back behind my neck.