Page 63 of Mine to Worship

“She’s fine. Relax, man.” Kendrick pats my back, his trademark leather jacket straining with the gesture.

“Since the doctor said Ellia’s pregnant, I reverted to three basic instincts: protect, care, and defend.”

“No, you’re just obsessed,” Jason says. He and Brandon clink their beer bottles.

“Why do I bother telling you things?”

“Enough about you. I need to get laid,” Brandon says, looking around.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Come on, tell me how you balanced the job and your free time?” His leg bounces up and down under the table with a restless energy. “You made it look so easy.”

“Work came before pleasure, always. And when I could party, well, I––”

“Yes, we know.” A shit-eating grin stretches Jason’s lips.

“But with what energy? Mikaela drives me into a fucking coma after a day of work. That woman loves her emails.”

“Are you sure you’re related?” Jason asks, and Brandon glares at him.

“Not funny.”

“So you and Ellia seem good?” Kendrick asks, and I grind my jaw, bristling at the word seem, but nod.

He continues, “Whatever it is, you will overcome it. A blind person could see you love each other.”

She can’t pretend that well, right? She must still love me on some level.

“I heard pregnant women want it all the time,” Jason pipes up.

I shake my head at Jason, and he raises his hands in front of him.

“Just curious, man.”

“I’m willing to be the godfather,” Brandon says.

“We haven’t even talked about it.”

I exchange glances with Kendrick. My brother sees it and jumps to his feet and pins us with a serious stare.

“No, no. I won’t have it. He was your best man. I get to be godfather,” Brandon demands.

I drag a hand down my face. “I don’t have to worry about becoming a father, as you behave like a child, anyway.”

“Why not me?” Jason scowls, and Brandon snorts at him.

My eyes dart to my cell and anxiety grows by the second. I dial her number, but I can’t hear her from all the noises in the background.

“Are you in a bar?” I ask, straining to hear her voice.

“Yes, but I am fine, so relax.”

Relax? That got smashed to shit with the images now clamoring in my head. Crowded place, drunk people, assholes.

“You either get your pretty ass back home or I am coming to get you. Either way we’re going home.”

“It’s girls’ night until midnight, and you don’t know where I am, anyway,” she says, ending on a throaty rasp. She loves to challenge me.

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