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“I’m pretty fond of you, too, actually. Though I will continue denying that tomorrow, probably. So really soak it in right now, babe.” I reach down to rub her cheeks and slow blink back at her like a fucking cat whisperer.
Dillon
The last thing I see before quietly closing my bedroom door behind me is Emery rolling over to the spot I was just in. He makes a contented noise, burrowing deeper under my comforter. My guts are a tangled mess as I walk away, down the hall to the living room.
The phone in my hand stops ringing, then starts right back up again. I run a rough hand through my hair before swiping to answer.
“Hey”
“Wanna tell me why I was just at my brother's apartment to drop off a greasy hangover breakfast and he wasn’t there?” I hear a door closing on the other end of the line, and I close my eyes.
“Not really, no.”
Warren sighs. “Dude, I haven’t said shit about you fucking your way around town because that’s your business. I know you’re trying to figure your shit out or whatever, but I would rather Emery not be grouped in with your sexual exploration.”
If I was a better man, I would be able to laugh at the absurd assumption. But I’m not a better man, am I? So, I say the only thing I can say, truthfully.
“I didn’t have sex with your brother, man.”
“Good. That’s good. Because Emery has always had a thing for you, Dill. You know that. I don’t want him to get his hopes up for something more when…” Warren cuts himself off and sighs again, the sound of his car unlocking beeping in the background.
“When I just found out I knocked up a chick I barely know?” I snort, falling onto the couch. All the alcohol I drank last night has left me feeling like dogshit, but I probably deserve to feel worse.
“It’s not the end of the world, man. You’ll be a great dad.” We sit in silence for a minute, then Warren exhales. “I trust you’ll do the right thing. You’ll do right by everyone, you always do.”
His reassurance does nothing to make me feel better. I’d say it does the opposite, actually.
I barely slept last night. I was awake long enough for the alcohol fog to clear, and what I was left with was all the shit I drank to forget.
I’m going to be a dad.
A dad.
If it wasn’t for meeting Warren and getting to spend so much time with his family, I would have nothing to compare a decent dad to. Mine was a piece of shit who treated my mom and Morgan and I like nuisances. God forbid we wanted to be a part of his life, and he actively avoided us.
It was one of Morgan’s many missed dance recitals, or after one of our parents' screaming matches, or one of the times that we heard him leave, knowing it would be days—weeks—before he showed his face again, when I vowed to never be like him.
And now I’m going to have a baby with a woman that I hardly know. Not to fucking mention that I’m not sure I even… I don’t know if…
I swallow the panic and cover my face, trying to breathe through the moment. But all I see when I close my eyes is the look on Emery’s face when he asked for a kiss.
That first touch of his lips against mine shuffled something in my goddamn head, and I’m staring right at the full picture, and I don’t want to see it for what it is.
Because I made a choice approximately four weeks ago to climb into bed with someone, and now I have to make the right choice. If she wants to keep the baby, I have to do the right thing.
The right thing does not involve climbing back in bed with Emery, and knowing that makes the panic snowball in my chest.
Emery wants fun. Wants more drunken nights and chances to get decked out in glitter and lip gloss. He doesn’t want the bullshit that being with me would bring him.
The creak of my bedroom door opening makes me angry. It pisses me the fuck off, because the right thing to do is the last thing I want.
The baby pink pampas grass wreath on the door has a little sign in the center that says ‘go away’ in a swooping, glittery cursive font. It showed up after the second cupcake I left outside his apartment door. It made me chuckle then, and every morning since.
Now I’m looking at the message, warm pizza box in hand, with not a single urge to laugh about it.
“You’re right. Because I’m a guaranteed good fuck, but that’s all I’ll ever be, isn’t that right? That’s what you said, if I remember correctly.”
I’ve felt sick to my stomach since the moment Emery spat that out at me earlier, tears shining in his eyes. Like my words from years ago have been tormenting him this whole time, and I had no idea.
