Page 80 of The Breakup

Which meant this really was an accident because I had not been careful enough. Which really, truly made me an asshole.

“I need a drink,” I said. “And I need to tell Brandy I have to leave. I can’t be here right now.”

She chewed her lip. “Aren’t you even a little bit happy?”

That shoved me over the edge. “No, princess, I am not happy. I already have one kid under the world’s most fucked-up circumstances and now I’m going to have another one. I thought when I had kid number two Camp would be ten years old and I would be married. But honestly, most of the time I figured I would never do this again.”

Tears rose in her eyes. “This isn’t the way I saw this happening either, but a baby is a gift, Christian.”

Sure, on Planet Perfect. I love kids. Just not bringing them into my mess. “When were you going to tell me?” She had to have known for a few weeks now. “When did you find out?”

“I was going to tell you once I got through the first trimester. A lot of women miscarry…I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure everything was okay. I figured why stress you out and then lose the baby?”

It sounded logical. Like the truth. Thoughtful. But I was so angry and upset and cynical I felt suspicious. All I could think was I had created another child who was going to grow up under awkward circumstances.

What was this going to do to our growing relationship?

And wow, was her dad going to think I was a dick.

“Did you know when you forced me to wait on sex?” That was a minor point, but kind of annoying. A lot annoying. What the hell were we waiting for if she already knew she was pregnant? That made zero sense and felt a little manipulative.

Her expression told me she had. “Um, yes?”

“That’s annoying,” I told her flat out.

I tried to gather my shit together. I touched her cheek, knowing I needed to offer her at least a little comfort. It was all I could manage.

“You asked me to trust you,” she said. “And I did. Now I need you to trust me. Everything is going to be okay, Christian.”

I nodded. I didn’t point out that her trust in me had gotten her knocked up.

I really was an asshole. I reached out and kissed her forehead. “Go back to work. I’ll call you later.”

She nodded and gave me a smile. A hopeful one. I couldn’t give one back.

We walked in together and she went straight back to her tables. I went to the bar.

“What the fuck is going on?” Brandy asked me.

“I need to leave,” I told her. “I just found out I got Bella pregnant. Illegitimate kid number two for me. Now that’s winning.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh shit…I don’t know what to say.”

Me either. “I’ll call Thomas and tell him. Can you handle tonight solo?”

She nodded.

“Good. Because I’m going to go home and get drunk.”

—

I actually went on a two-day bender. I knew that wasn’t fair to Camp or to my mother, who was watching him and already had one son in rehab, or to Bella, who was anxiously texting me constantly asking me if I was okay. But I just needed to be alone to think and nurse my disappointment with myself in the bottle.

I shut all the blinds in my apartment, sat down with the whiskey, and didn’t stop for forty-eight hours, only hitting the pause button to eat, piss, and pass out at random intervals. I had a lot of anger, directed mostly at myself. A little bit at whatever dickhead in charge of fate had decided this would be hilarious. I wasn’t mad at Bella, other than mildly annoyed that she was so fucking sexy I had been unable to resist her.

I sat on my couch and ran through the last month. The signs had been there. I just hadn’t noticed them. Bella’s quick return to happiness despite the upheaval she had been through. Her glowing skin. The bursting tits. Her demeanor, as if she had a secret. She hummed at work, for God’s sake. Who hummed waiting tables? She was happy. Because she was having a baby. Something she had always wanted.

Sipping the bottle in the dark I reflected that maybe I should be proud of myself for that. I had given her what she had wanted. Yeah. Good going, Jordan. Spreading my seed to make women happy. At this rate, I’d be better off jerking off at a sperm bank and getting paid for it. Except I would never do that because I wanted to be a part of any child I created.

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