Page 67 of Two Wrongs

I take a deep breath. “I want a baby. Someone in this world I’m connected to besides my aunt whom I rarely speak to. I want a family again. I know those aren’t great reasons to have a baby. They’re selfish, but not having that connection hurts deep into my soul. But, do I wish I were having Liam’s baby?”

Griffin’s fingers grip the door frame as he waits for me to answer him.

“No, but somehow I’m sad he didn’t want to be with me. It doesn’t make sense, but even though I’m ending it, I’m still pissed off that his mistress is getting the baby he wouldn’t give me.”

He lets go of the door, and sits next to me on the bed. Without looking at me, he reaches over and takes my hand. “He won’t stay with her. Liam might have gotten her pregnant, but I don’t think you can say he’s having a baby with her. She’s probably going to raise that baby alone.”

I turn to look at him. “I really don’t want to havehisbaby.” What I can say is that I wish our stars were different, that there could be a future for the two of us.

“You’ll have it someday. The family you want.” What he doesn’t say, but I can see in his expression, is that he wishes it could be with him.

So do I, but I won’t say it either.

* * *

“Shut up!That cow pretended to be your best friend and was sleeping with your husband? I’m totally your real best friend, right?” Bess says in a rush.

I load my tray up with beers for the back table of frat guys while she keeps talking. “I’m totally the best choice. I promise I won’t sleep with daddy Hale.”

Donovan walks past and slaps her ass. “You better not. I don’t share my woman.”

Cocking my eyebrow I stare at her until she squirms. “So, you’re his woman now?”

Bess shrugs one shoulder. “He kept pestering me until I agreed. It’s not like there’s a lot of choices in this town.”

I roll my eyes. “He’s hot, sweet, and into you. Why can’t you just admit you like him for more than his dick?”

She looks around us to make sure he isn’t listening again. “Fine, you hooker, I kinda, sorta, maybe love the big doofus.”

Donovan shaves about five years off both of our lives when he jumps up from behind the bar. He points his finger in her face. “I knew it! We’re getting married.”

“Were you hiding behind the bar eavesdropping on our conversation?” she accuses, totally trying to distract him from his declaration they were going to be married.

“How did the two of you miss the fact I walked past you carrying a case of beer? It’s not my fault you’re so absorbed with your drama that you didn’t realize I needed to stock the coolers behind the bar. Back to the point, we’re getting married,” he says, oozing confidence.

“That is a shit proposal,” she replies.

“It really kinda was. You’re going to have to try again.” I hoist the heavy tray and carefully make my way to serve my tables. After dropping off the rounds of beer to the surprisingly polite college guys, I make a loop around my section and see if anyone needs a refill.

I freeze behind a table filled with some women I know Audrey hangs out with. It used to be only when I was busy with Liam, but my guess is they’ve seen her more than I have. “Can you believe she actually went to his dad’s house?” one of them, Tina I think, says.

The other three lean forward, completely engaged in gossip as though my pain is thrilling for them. Or maybe, they’re not real friends to Audrey, and it’s her pain they’re enjoying so much. “I know!” another woman squeals. I can’t remember if she’s Heather or Heidi. Doesn’t really matter. None of this will matter to me when I leave this town.

Heather or Heidi continues, “Did she tell you that Wren was there?”

The other three nod. I wonder why, if they all know the story, they feel the need to discuss it in detail, but Harriston is a small, boring-ass town. “And she told her she’s having Liam’s baby! Ugh, poor Wren.”

That is surprising. Not that I really care to have their pity, but not having their scorn is kind of refreshing. It doesn’t last though.

“Hardly, Audrey says he’s been trying to leave her for years. That he wished he never married her, but he felt so bad for her since she’s an orphan and all,” a third woman adds. I stop trying to remember what their names are after that. I’m just calling this one cuntasaurus. I think it fits.

My head tips up, and I see the multicolored bundle of chaos that is my newly-appointed best friend approach their table. She must have been checking on a table close by.

Bess pretends to trip, and my mouth falls open watching in fascination as an entire pitcher of beer lands on cuntasaurus. “Oh my,” Bess says dramatically, and if I’m not mistaken, using a fake southern drawl. “Well, bless your heart, I suppose you’ll be needin’ your check so you can go clean up.” Definitely a fake southern accent.

“Donovan!” the woman screeches.

He rushes over and takes in the woman who reeks of cheap beer. Her friends weren’t completely safe so close to the splash zone, and all of them resemble contestants in a wet t-shirt contest.

---