When Scott eventually looks at me again, my heart falls in my chest. Billie might be his only daughter, but she’s also been like a niece to me. I’ve known her since she was nine, and even though I haven’t seen her in years since she left for college in Austin, I still think of her as family.
“She’s coming home. To live.”
Confused, I massage the bridge of my nose. “Wait. I thought she was going to stay out in Texas, move in with her boyfriend, and finish up college while his family helped out with child care?”
Scott throws me a look, revealing that my assumptions are way off the mark.
So, what the fuck has changed?
Picking up a spare coaster, my friend begins ripping it apart, shredded pieces falling to the table.
“Not exactly,” he drawls. “I held off telling you because I figured you had enough drama on your plate with the divorce, but … let’s just say that the baby’s dad isn’t making good on the promises he made to Billie and us. Next week, they were due to move into their new place in the same neighborhood as his parents, but Tucker backed out, saying that he thought the rental was too expensive.” He tears a chunk off the coaster. “He’s been ghosting Billie ever since. Not that he was particularly present from the day he found out about the pregnancy.”
I scratch the back of my neck, my own issues suddenly feeling insignificant.
“In a last-minute decision, Billie has made the call to fly home before she’s thirty-six weeks along so she can have the baby here. Freya and I already hated the idea of her staying in Austin with people we barely knew.” He clears his throat, likely to get rid of rising emotions. “Our girl has barely been home since she left for college, and each time we visited her, Tucker’s family were conveniently busy.” He shakes his head. “She might be almost twenty-one and thinks she has life covered, but she’s doing the right thing to come home where we can support her.” What’s left of the coaster falls from his hands. “That fucker got her knocked up and is refusing to accept his responsibilities. She’s still my baby, for Christ’s sake.” His voice wobbles on the final few words.
I can feel the burn of rage deep in the pit of my gut. Maria and I never had kids, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sense a fraction of the desperation Scott is experiencing right now.
“You should’ve said something sooner,” I tell him.
Scott just shakes his head at me. “It’s not like you could’ve done anything.” His voice adopts a darker edge. “Not unless you want to fly your six-foot-four frame south and beat the living shit out of Tucker. If I get within a hundred yards of him, I swear I’ll break his fucking neck.”
For a second, I consider offering to do just that.
Instead, I try to remain calm for the sake of my closest friend. “I’m not making any excuses here,” I begin, quickly raising a hand at the bartender to bring Scott another bourbon. “But perhaps Tucker is freaking out. You told me that he’s only a year older than Billie, right?”
He nods his head once.
“Maybe it’s a case of him needing to pull himself the fuck together and step up to be a man.”
Another bourbon is set in front of Scott, and he tosses the shot down in one, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
“Billie thinks he’s messing around with someone else.”
That information hits me like a bullet between the eyes.
“The fuck?” I grind out.
“Yep,” is all he says, clearly incapable of forming further—appropriate—words.
“She can’t be sure he’s cheated, but when she found a questionable message on his cell from an unknown number, it was the final straw, and she made a devastated phone call to Freya. Her flight leaves tomorrow, and we’ll work the rest out when she gets here.”
I scramble for something I can say to make this shit situation any better.
“Is his family still going to help out with finances? Given that Billie and Tucker are in college.”
Scott doesn’t need to say anything. From his expression alone, I can tell that it’s doubtful.
“I think they all want to wash their hands of the pregnancy and pretend like it never happened. Billie agreed to remain in Texas, trusting that they would support her beyond the minimum child support payments …” He practically spits his next statement. “It’s not like they can’t afford to.”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
He scoffs. “What the fuck can you say? We’re literally left holding the baby. I’m going to sell Shelby to help her out.”
I pull back, shocked.
Other than Billie and his wife, Shelby is the most important girl in Scott’s life. A 1960s Jaguar E-Type, inherited from his late father. If sold privately, he could expect to raise a hundred thousand dollars, but I know it would break his heart. Scott is a blue-collar worker from a family who worked tirelessly for every dime they had, so to raise that kind of cash would likely mean remortgaging his and Freya’s home if they didn’t sell Shelby.
