Page 5 of Cruel Love

“Right.” He nods. “With you, preferably.”

“I can’t leave,” I say. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Caleb’s been planning this engagement party dinner thing for Fox and Dani for days and if I skip it, she’ll fuck me up.”

“Box, where are you going?”

I bounce back into the apartment to find Caleb staring at me from the bathroom doorway. I gawk at her dress. Tight and black. Come to think of it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen my wife in a dress before.

Goddamn, she’s gorgeous.

“Hello?” she asks, slinking backward self-consciously.

I think quickly for a lie. “Oh, I was just going down to the market across the street to grab another bottle of champagne.”

“We don’t need another bottle, Box.”

I scoff, ignoring Archer as he taps his nonexistent wristwatch in my peripheral vision. “I beg to differ. I’ve seen you chug down half a bottle all by yourself. I’ll just be a few minutes—”

“Yeah... I won’t be drinking that much tonight,” she says.

I laugh. “Sure, okay.”

“I’m pregnant, Boxcar.”

I freeze in the door frame and Archer’s jaw drops. I hop backward, slamming the door closed in his face as I swing back into the room, instantly seeing the small, plastic stick in her hand. A pregnancy test.

“Pregnant?”

Her eyes shift from me to the door. “Who’s out there?”

I step forward. “Nobody. You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

Her nose turns up. “Are you really going to make me explain it?”

“Well, I...” I breathe out. “I know how, I just...”

She walks into the room, heading straight for the door. “Who is in the hallway?” she asks again.

“There’s no one out there—”

Caleb passes me and I groan in defeat.

She pulls the door open and looks out at Archer’s forced grin. “Archer?” she asks.

“Caleb!” He happily throws up his hands. “Hello! You... you look ravishing.”

I poke my head around the door with a furrowed brow. “Really, man? That’s the word you choose?”

Caleb squints at him. “What are you doing here?”

Archer hesitates. “I heard the good news!” he says, pointing at the stick in her hand. “Thought I’d stop by and congratulate you. Mozel tov.”

“You’re Jewish?” I ask.

“No,” he answers. “I don’t know why I said that.”

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