Wrong Bed Baby (Crescent Cove 10)

I’d made the mistake of sipping from my water bottle at that exact moment. The liquid went down the wrong pipe, and I started coughing. Lucky naturally took that as confirmation of his carnal theories.

“Oh, so they do have a kinky sex life. I knew it. Bet you it’s like whips or something. She has a sexually adventurous vibe. Hot.” Lucky cleared his throat. “So, ah, Luna with that pole. Bet she’s the same way, huh?”

“I’m not discussing the mother of my child with you that way, pervert.”

“Last month, she was the blond witchy hottie. Now she’s practically sanctified.”

“Pretty much. And she’s gone off to find herself and I’m trying not to lose my mind.”

“Why would she need to do that?”

“I don’t know. I must’ve fucked it up somehow.”

“Did you say something about not wanting the kid?”

“No. I want it so much. I want everything with Luna. And I want to tell my parents and Ivy and Rory and Aug and Kin.” I released a long, uneven breath. Once I’d opened the valve, apparently there was no shutting it off. “But I can’t tell them until Luna’s ready for people to know, and it’s killing me. They shouldn’t be kept in the dark.”

“Whoa.”

Silence descended on the line.

I squeezed my plastic water bottle and a little dribbled out of the top onto my khakis. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I

just grabbed a cold one. I thought this day would never come.”

“What day?”

“The day you grew up and became a Crescent Cove daddy.”

I had to laugh. “You’re next, buddy.”

“How dare you. Why would you curse me like that?”

“It’s not a curse, man. I swear.”

He made a sound that indicated he clearly did not believe me and never would.

“We haven’t really planned or anything yet. But I started looking around online the other day. The clothes are so tiny. What if I accidentally drop him or her?”

“Or sit on him,” Lucky mused.

“Okay, didn’t think of that one, but yeah.” I glanced out the window into the darkness and made myself stand from the desk. “I have to go home. Putting off facing her empty apartment isn’t going to make it any easier.”

“I can meet you there,” he offered. “We can watch some shitty TV and get drunk until we pass out. Just like the old days.”

“If by the old days you mean July,” I said dryly as I put my bottle in the recycler and started stuffing papers into my briefcase.

“Before she got between us.”

I set down a file full of assessment reports. “She isn’t between us. We’re still us. Nothing’s changed.”

“You know that isn’t true. It can’t be. You’ll have all these responsibilities, and no time for your old pal Lucky.” He let out a rusty laugh. “But hey, I’ll be the godfather, right?”

“I can’t do that to an innocent baby.”

When Lucky stayed quiet, I made myself laugh. If it sounded maniacal, that couldn’t be helped. “Of course you’ll be his godfather. Who else would I ask than my best friend in all the world to parent a small, helpless child upon my untimely death?”