Page 1 of Beyond Question

Chapter One

Travis

Cabot Reed. On his knees. Chugging beer out of a baby bottle.

Of all the things I never expected to see in my lifetime, this one takes the cake.

In a lineup of other men—including a handful of Reed Enterprises stockholders—Cabot sucks on that rubber nipple like his life depends on it, and in true Cabot fashion, he finishes before the others. Next to myself, this bastard is the most competitive person I know. There isn’t a game in existence that man can’t win. And if he can’t beat it, he’ll buy it, though that method simply won’t work under current conditions.

But hey, now he can add ‘chugging beer out of a baby bottle’ to his many accolades.

He rises quickly to his feet and pumps his fist into the air, victorious and proud—as if he doesn’t have droplets of IPA dripping down his chin.

Applause breaks out around me, and I scan the people in attendance, wondering what fresh hell I’ve stepped into by coming here today.

Beside me, Rylan claps loudly, grinning from ear to ear with pride as if her fiancé has just put an end to world hunger, not chugged beer from a baby bottle.

I lean toward her and ask, “Who is this man and what have you done with my best friend?”

Rylan pins me with a bemused stare. “He’s having fun, Travis. You should try it sometime.”

“Right.” I raise my eyebrows and survey the scene.Fun?I think we have different definitions of the word. And sometimein the past two years, this woman has hijacked my best friend who—still gloating over his little win—now also has a skewed interpretation offun.

And I’ve landed myself at a coed baby shower of all things.

Sunshine yellow covers every surface imaginable, from balloon arches and a photo backdrop of a million daisies strung together into draping chains, to tablecloths and flower arrangements. Even the dessert table is a swath of blinding cheer, from cupcakes with pale yellow frosting to Waterford vases filled to the brim with Lemonheads, pale yellow gummi bears, and wands of rock candy, which are clear and—you guessed it—yellow.

Situated alongside each vase of cavity-causers are multiple towers of lemon-flavored French macarons from Mille-Feuille. They’re the best part of this party, even though every time I sneak one Rylan glares at me.

It is truly a testament to my love for my best friend and his girl that I’m here at all. I don’t evenlikebabies. Or large groups of people. Or small talk, which seems to be in full swing around me. But I’ve always shown up for Cabot, and once Rylan became a part of his life, I began showing up for her as well.

“Come on,” she says, wrapping her hand around my forearm. “It’s your turn.”

I stiffen. “Not a chance, Rylan.”

Rylan groans, then tries to tug me forward again. “It’s just agame, Travis.”

I shake my head and meet her gaze. “I don’t really do baby games, kiddo.”

“Stop calling me that,” she grumbles, tugging me forward.

“I’m not drinking anything out of a baby bottle.”

“I know.”

“I’m not eating anything out of a diaper either.” I shudder as I remember watching in horror as people tried to guess what candy bars had been melted into the diapers—bytastingthem.

“We already played that game.”

I sigh. “You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be silly. I couldn’tmakeyou do anything.” She grins playfully, then looks past me, and I sense Cabot’s approach before I see him. Not that it takes much—the way her eyes soften when they land on him is a dead giveaway.

Cabot appears beside me, beaming like he just won the lottery and not a silly drinking game at a baby shower. “Live a little, Wilder.”

I scoff. “Whoareyou?”

“A man who’s about to be a father. Show some support.” He claps a hand on my shoulder and nudges me forward, somewhat forcefully, working in tandem with Rylan to sabotage me.

---