“Wait. You don’t know if the kid is yours or not?”
I rub the sleep from my eyes. “When I tried to clarify, she wasn’t exactly open to speaking about it.”
Iris curses under her breath. “Does the kid look like you?”
“Her hair is a bit darker, but her eyes are a near perfect match to mine.”
She gasps. “It’s a girl?”
“Surprise.” I toss the bottle in the direction of the trash can, but thanks to my sucky aim, it lands a whole foot away. There’s a reason I played hockey over basketball, and that right there proves it.
“No need to freak out just yet. You don’t even know if the kid is yours.”
“Lana didn’t take too kindly to me when I insinuated she might be.” Suggesting such a thing wasn’t my finest moment. Neither was my comment about her sleeping with someone so soon after we broke up, but I let my emotions get the best of me.
You have no right to be angry at her for what she did after you ended things.
Easier said than done. I’m not the kind of person who usually gets jealous, but I sense it festering inside of me, searching for an outlet.
“Please tell me you didn’t ask her like that.”
“Okay. I won’t.” I search the mini fridge for another bottle. Since I already cleared the fridge of all the vodka, I’m stuck choosing between tequila and Fireball.
And here you thought your night couldn’t get any worse.
I grab the plastic bottle of Fireball and shut the door with my foot.
Iris groans. “Sometimes I question whether or not you truly are a genius.”
“You and I both.” If it weren’t for my parents forcing me into gifted classes all throughout my life, I’d think they lied to me solely so I was challenged enough in school to avoid getting in trouble.
“There has to be an explanation for this. Based on the stories you shared about Lana, I doubt she would keep a child from you—no matter how much she dislikes you.”
“Well, I plan on getting an answer from her tomorrow morning if it’s the last thing I do.”
“What are you going to do if the kid is yours?”
“Besides drink myself into an alcohol-induced coma?” I twist off the red cap and take a whiff of the cinnamon-scented liquor. Unlike Lana’s warm scent, this one makes my stomach churn. I ignore the nausea as I chug, craving the relief only alcohol can provide.
Iris huffs. “That’s not even remotely funny.”
I stop drinking to answer her. “If she’s mine, then I’ll bring it up with Grandpa’s lawyer when I call him tomorrow.”
“Why do you need to speak with Leo?”
“There’s a…complication.”
“What kind of complication?” Worry seeps into her voice, making me feel shitty for calling her in the first place, only to stress her out.
“Don’t worry about it.” I slur toward the end of my sentence.
“Are you drunk?”
“Nope.” Okay, I’m a little drunk, but I don’t want to worry Iris with my issues.
Her deep sigh echoes through the speaker. “I thought you were doing better.”
If by doing better, she means doing better at hiding my issues from everyone, then yes, I am.
“Turns out I’m in a celebrating mood.”
“Cal.” It’s amazing how a single word can hold so much disappointment.
I pick at the label on the bottle. “What do you expect? I’m in the middle of a crisis right now.”
“Is it really considered a crisis if it’s a constant state of being for you?” Declan grumbles on the other side of the line.
“Dammit, Iris. Was he listening to us this whole time?”
“It’s not like I have much of a choice when you’re the one calling at two a.m.,” Declan replies for her.
“I need the moral support.”
“Or a congratulations based on the news.”
“Did you just crack a joke about me possibly being a father?” Horror creeps into my voice.
“It’s either that or yell at you about having unprotected sex.”
“I’d really rather that.” I’m honestly up for anything but my brother making jokes about me becoming a dad. I don’t know what called for such a change in his character, but I can only imagine it has to do with Iris.
Declan whispers something I don’t quite catch. Iris giggles before the line goes dead.
“Iris?” I check the screen for a dropped call. It still looks like she is connected, but no sounds come from her end of the line.
She put you on mute. “Don’t mind me. I’m just on the verge of having a mental breakdown.”
“Sorry! Declan needed to ask me something.” Her breathy voice sends a full-body shudder through me.
“I’ll just call you tomorrow morning when my brother isn’t busy doing whatever makes you sound like that.”
“Wait!” She must mute the call again before coming back thirty seconds later. “I told Declan to give me ten minutes.”
I drop face-first onto the bed, wishing the fall would knock me out. “I’m not sure why I thought calling you was a good idea, but I regret it immensely.”
“Because I’m your best friend and you needed me.” She actually coos.
“Debatable after the last few minutes of this conversation.”
She huffs. “I don’t like it when you’re all grumpy. It reminds me of your brothers.”
“Sorry, I’m all out of rainbows and unicorns today. Check back in tomorrow to see if I’m in a stop and smell the roses kind of mood again.”
“How can I help you out?”
“I’m not sure there is much you can do. This is all turning out to be a big pain in my ass.” After watching my brothers struggle with their tasks, I knew mine wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t think my grandfather would force Lana and me to live together again after the last time he and I spoke.
I’m pissed I didn’t connect the dots sooner. Instead, I prolonged the inevitable and made the process harder given my limited timeframe.
And this is why you shouldn’t procrastinate.
“If selling the house was really that simple, then you would’ve cleared out the place and sold it a long time ago. We both know you put off completing your grandfather’s request because something was holding you back.”
Not something, but someone.
A phone alarm I forgot to shut off has me groaning into my pillow. The taste of poor decisions and cheap alcohol lingers on my tongue, making my already queasy stomach churn.
You shouldn’t have drunk so much last night.
It’s the same thing I say almost every morning when I wake up, although the selection from the mini fridge doesn’t help matters.