Page 13 of Billionaire's Frenemy

“Totally done,” I agreed, nodding emphatically. “Life is over. I’m officially a deadbeat dad.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tatum asked, his tone incredulous.

“She’s not going to marry me,” I said. “She was trying to hide this from me. She doesn’t want me. If she did, she wouldn’t have lied about it.”

My brothers all exchanged looks around the table, and I knew I’d made my point. I leaned back smugly and sighed.

Willow was out there, walking around with our little nugget growing in her belly, and she didn’t want me involved. All those years of push and pull between us, and she’d finally pushed hard enough to shove me out of the picture.

“You’re not going to marry her?” Tatum asked softly.

“She wouldn’t accept,” I hissed. “She’d think I was just like her dad. Shedoesthink I’m just like her dad. A guy with morals but no heart.” I shook my head. “She doesn’t want me.”

She might have said she loved me. That part was just starting to filter through now. When I’d realized the baby was mine, the rest of the conversation kind of evaporated from my head.

It didn’t matter, though. It might have, if she hadn’t gotten knocked up. But now, she’d never believe I love her, too. I knew her. She’d think any attempt at a proposal was just me ‘doing the right thing.’ As if I even knew what that meant.

If I knew how to do the right thing, we’d already be married. Or at the very least, living together in sin and fucking every night. She’d know she was mine and only mine.

Fuck, I loved to sin with that woman.

“Jameson!” Fray yelled, punching my arm. “You still with us, man?”

I realized he’d been trying to get my attention for a while as I’d been lost in thought.

“Nah, man,” I said. “I’m a million miles away.”

“You need to go to her. Now. Right now,” Fray insisted.

“Maybe notrightnow,” Luke interjected, his tone holding a warning.

“No. No, Fray is right,” I said, jumping to my feet and swaying so hard that arms shot out from all sides to hold me steady. “I have to go tell her I love her. Tell her I’m sorry. Push her off the swing set.”

“No pushing pregnant women,” Tatum barked.

“It was a meta—a metaph—I’m not really gonna push her, stupid.” I rolled my eyes and hiccupped.

“Luke is probably right,” Bennett said. “Maybe, this should wait until tomorrow.”

“Now!” I pointed toward the door. “Tatum, drive me!”

“No fucking way.” Tatum laughed.

“Fray!” I yelled.

“I’m your huckleberry,” Fray said, getting to his feet.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Luke said. “Fray can’t drive you. He’s three sheets, too.”

“I’ll call Em,” Fray said. “She’ll drive us.”

“That’s a great idea!” I said, slapping his cheek a little harder than I’d meant to. “I can get her on my side, and we can all gang up on Willow. Make her accept my marriage proposal.”

“You idiots are going home,” Bennett insisted. “Emerson is going to ring Fray’s neck, and Willow will never speak to you again if you show up at her house piss drunk in the middle of the night. And besides that. Neither of you dumbasses drove. Fray’s driver brought us.”

“You guys are party poopers,” I said, dropping back into my chair. Luke was whispering something to Tatum, so I leaned forward and snagged my drink, knocking back the shot in one pull. “I should at least call her.”

“There you go!” Fray said, punching my arm so hard I fell over into Tatum.

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