Page 176 of Unravel Me

I shake my head, backing away.

“I’m twenty-six. I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare sizes.”

* * *

I dipped my dick in the snow to compare sizes.

Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.

“That’s clear shrinkage!” Carter shrieks. “From the snow! ’Cause it’s cold!”

“If you have shrinkage, we all have shrinkage!” Garrett screams back, arms flailing. “That doesn’t change the fact that Adam’s a half inch bigger than you!”

“Three-eighths! Three-eighths of an inch, not a half!”

The patio door slides open, four beautiful, concerned women staring back at us with mugs of boozy hot chocolate in their hands.

“What’s going on out here?” Olivia asks, shifty eyes moving between us as we shiver, wet with snow.

“Nothing,” Carter lies quickly. “Nothing, Ollie.”

Cara looks at Emmett, raising a brow, and that motherfucker folds like a lawn chair. “We were comparing dicks by dipping them in the snow,” he blurts, then breathes out a deep sigh of relief. “Adam’s got Carter beat by a half inch.”

“Three-eighths!”

Rosie’s amused gaze comes to mine. “Adam, you didn’t participate in this, did you?”

Heat rises to my cheeks, even though my junk is fucking frozen solid. With an anxious chuckle, and a sheepish grin I hope is equally charming, I sidestep to the right, showing her my slutty snow angel.

“Sweet holy mother of Jesus,” Cara murmurs. “Look at that dicksicle. Rosie, how are you upright?”

She opens her mouth to tell everyone how sweet and respectfully I fuck her, but the trill of my phone slices through the night air. My heartbeat thumps in my chest at the name on my screen.

“It’s my lawyer.”

Rosie rushes to my side, and my friends crowd around me as I answer the phone.

“I know it’s Christmas Eve, Adam, but I figured you’d want answers as soon as I had them,” my lawyer tells me. “Courtney refused the paternity test.”

“Of course she did,” I growl, and Rosie slides her hand into mine, squeezing gently.

“She refused the paternity test because the baby isn’t yours, Adam.”

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her that night. You were asleep in your bedroom, and she snapped that picture to make it look like you two had been together. She was five weeks pregnant already.”

I didn’t sleep with her.

“I also issued her a no-contact order for you and Rosie, and was explicitly clear what types of ramifications there might be on her Canadian visa should she choose to break it. This is over, Adam, for good. And if you need a little proof to help you feel confident in that, I suggest hopping on Twitter. A minute of scrolling will give you all the satisfaction you need.”

I pull up the app as soon as we disconnect, my heart racing at the content littering my feed. Links to gossip articles detailing Courtney’s scheming, all her lies. Posts in support of Rosie and me, people sending their best wishes to our family. I click on a video that has tens of thousands of shares, watching a repeat of yesterday from a different view: me and Rosie, a united front, and Courtney, desperate and caught in her lies.

“How did they get this footage?” Rosie asks.

I look up at her, at my friends surrounding me, and my hands tremble. “I don’t know. But they’re incredible.”

“Wow,” Cara murmurs, doing a piss-poor job of hiding her sneaky smile behind her boozy hot chocolate. “It’s almost as if someone knew you’d be there, at that exact coffee shop, at that exact time, and made sure they were situated within earshot of that exact devil, so they could record that exact conversation, only to turn around and leak it. Hmmm.” She sips her drink, licking the whipped cream from her top lip. “I wonder who that possibly could’ve been.”

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