“Fuck you! You’re a cheating whore!” I bellowed. I couldn’t believe my damn eyes. I mean, how could I? How could that be my fucking wife lying in a hospital bed holding a baby that was clearly not the fruit of my freaking loins.

Her eyes grew wide as her jaw hung open. She had never looked more pathetic to me than she did right then. She sat there staring at me while I paced around the hospital room flailing around the papers I had just found, having a complete tantrum.

“You have to listen to me. I swear, Will—” Her shrill voice pierced through the stale air, fueling my rage and igniting the embers into an uncontrollable blaze of fury.

“It’s all right here, Mindie!” I cut her off. I pointed at the printout before throwing it at the foot of her bed. “In black and white, plain as day. I mean, these things don’t lie. It’s all mapped out in the damn paternity test you had done. Couldn’t have figured out a better hiding spot than the drawer next to your goddamn hospital bed?”

What am I going to tell my teammates and best friends? They were in the waiting room anxiously anticipating an introduction to my child. What a fucking ridiculous thought that was now.

“It was only one time,” she said quietly, trying to defend her sorry ass. “I don’t know how this happened.”

She was crying. The baby was crying. I was furious.

My stomach turned as I rushed into the bathroom connected to our room. Blowing chunks into the toilet while the bastard wailed only feet away was completely awful. Is this real life? When the hell is Ashton Kutcher going to jump out of the closet and tell me I’ve been punked?

Taking a few seconds, I stared at myself in the mirror above the sink.

You can get through this.

Just calm down.

I dampened a towel and held it to my face. My little pep talk was futile. There was no way I was going to be able to calm myself down from this shit. I stomped back into the room, heaving the towel into the corner of the room on my way.

I stopped at the foot of her bed, my heart thumping in my ears as my hands shook.

“Will, can we talk about this? Please?” She wiped her tearstained cheeks with the end of the baby’s blanket. Fucking pitiful.

“There really is nothing to talk about.”

“Can I at least explain?”

I shook my head, white-knuckling the metal footboard. “You were worried enough to get a paternity test to check it—what more is there to explain? And you had me sign the damn birth certificate anyway. Who the fuck is his father?”

I thought about strangling my wife as she opened her mouth to speak, but that would be too easy for her. She was going to have to pay for this in some other way.

“You don’t know him.” She looked so defeated. Her hair was in a messy, sweat-soaked bun, her skin was bright pink from crying, and she was shaking ever so subtly. Add in the hours-old child in her arms and if someone walked into that room, I would be taken out by the scruff of my neck for screaming at a woman in such a fragile state.

“It doesn’t fucking matter anyway. I’m leaving—for good. I’m taking these with me, and you will have divorce papers in your hands as soon as I can get them to you.” I scooped up the paternity test and stormed out of the room.

* * *

Being home alone was fucking awful. I just didn’t know where to go or what to do. Telling the guys in the waiting room was fucking ridiculous. Well, I barely told them. It was more of those guy-vague-conversations that they all knew to just take at face value.

I took a shower, tried to watch TV, barely ate any of the BLT I made for myself. So, I did what any guy would do in my situation. I grabbed my coat and went to a bar.

“Crosby, you look like shit.” Jordan was trying to be funny but all I could do was scowl and sit at one of the empty bar stools.

“Hey, Bates. How’s everything going?”

She shook her head. “I think I should be asking you that question. But first, what are you drinking?”

“Do you have a drink for finding out your wife just gave birth to someone else’s kid but lied to you the entire time and tricked you into signing the birth certificate?” Saying it out loud made my skin crawl.

“I think I have just the thing.” She poured me three fingers of Jameson neat and then looked over to her co-bartender. “Hey, Sara? I need to take twenty.”

Jordan ushered me to a table in the corner of the room, the green bottle of amber goodness still clutched in her hand. “At least this way we will have a little bit of privacy. Do you even want to talk about it?”

I ran my hand over my face. “Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin.”

She put her hand on my forearm. “You start by drinking that glass down and not worrying about finding the words. We don’t have to even talk. We can just sit here awkwardly for hours.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

We sat in silence for a little while and after Jordan gave me two refills, I was finally in a sharing mood.

“Did you know I was about to break up with Mindie right before we met?” I blurted out and Jordan’s eyes got wide.

“You two always seemed so madly in love. Why’d you even stay with her? That was fucking over five years ago.” Leave it to Bates to be as blunt as possible. That was actually one of my favorite things about Jordan – she was honest and blunt. Two perfect qualities for amazing friends and fantastic bartenders, and she was both.

“It was all an act. During my rookie season, I was traveling a lot and didn’t really want a relationship. Mindie and I were high school sweethearts and I was dragging my feet on breaking it off with her. The night I finally got the balls to end things, she told me she was pregnant.”

“Wait. What?” Jordan’s hand flew to her mouth. I knew she could do math and also knew that I did not have any children.

I leaned onto the table, chugging down the rest of my drink. “We got married the weekend after that at the courthouse and she lost the baby two weeks later. I should have cut and run then, but I had made a commitment.”

“You’re a good guy for honoring your word, Will.” Jordan’s eyes were filled with pity and concern.

“Well, look at what I have to show for it now.”