So far he hasn’t shared anything pertinent; we’ve just been talking and pounding shots like college kids on spring break.
“Fuck, I need to stop,” he says, shoving the glass away.
I slap him on the back. “Head over to the casino with me. Play the slots. See if you can’t win enough to buy yourself a new watch.”
He slides a dry look my way. “You know my watch works just fine.”
“Yeah, well, you sure were late. Busy having that big lunch?” I ask.
“I had some errands. I have my own shit to do too, you know.”
“My shit’s more important,” I assure him.
Sin rolls his eyes at me. “That’s the problem with you. You always think your shit’s more important, but it’s not.” I’m about to respond, but before I can, he continues, “You should apologize to Laurel. She’s not into this douchebag thing you’re doing right now. You need to apologize for being a dick if you want her to like you.”
“That must have been some car ride,” I remark, watching him. “Did she bend your ear the whole way to the airport?”
“Get your phone out,” he tells me, indicating the pocket where I keep my phone. “I’ll help you write the message.”
I snort at the ridiculousness of my perpetually solitary henchman telling me what to say to a woman I’m interested in. “I don’t need your help talking to a girl, Sin.”
“She’s pregnant,” he states. “You called her a liar and turned her away. You were a dick.”
My amusement swiftly evaporates. “She is lying. That’s not debatable—it’s only the ‘why’ that’s unclear.”
“And what if she isn’t, huh?” He lifts an eyebrow, regarding me. “I know it doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s not like no one has ever had a condom fail. Joey fucking… whatever the fuck his name is, he’s pretty adamant that he and what’s-her-face hadn’t fucked up when she got pregnant.”
I shake my head. “No. That was user error. They’re morons. When used correctly, condoms work. Condoms have worked for me for 14 years, Sin. I’ve never had one fail me.”
“Well, as many women as you’ve fucked, maybe you’re just lucky this was the first time. All I’m saying is, sometimes shit happens, and what if she’s not lying? You turned your back on your own fucking kid, man.”
He’s ruining my buzz. “I’m not wrong. I didn’t fuck up that bad. That’s not… No.”
“You like her,” he states. I shake my head no, but he ignores me. “Yes, you do. I can tell. So, if you like her and she’s pregnant with your kid, I think it’s the right move to swallow your fucking pride and tell her you’re sorry for being a dick.”
“Nope. I like my life the way it is. I’m not… no.”
“What if it is your kid? Would you still feel that way?”
“It’s not—”
He cuts me off. “Yeah, I know, but pretend for a minute. Pretend she was telling the truth. Pretend this guileless fucking girl from halfway across the country really just came here to tell you the truth because she’s pregnant with your child and doesn’t know what to do about it. If all of that’s true and she didn’t lie to you, then what?”
Then I’m an asshole, but that is not the situation. Laurel tried to take me for a ride and I shut her down—that is the situation.
“You suck,” I tell him, climbing off the stool. “I didn’t ask you to come out with me for this shit.”
“If you think she’s worth a shot, you need to act now,” he states. “If it doesn’t go anywhere, it doesn’t go anywhere, but you’ve made worse decisions than seeing if you want to date the girl you impregnated. Your window of opportunity is small, Rafe; you need to do it now if you’re going to. She’s not fucking around. She’s not going to sit around waiting to see if you pull your head out of your ass. That girl is not hung up on you.”
I frown, looking at him. “But why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Too much going on in her life? Supportive family? Healthy sense of self-esteem? All I know is, if you want her, you need to make a move before she moves on, because she’s more than halfway there already. I’m not even sure she likes you enough to give you a chance at this point, but if you want one, you’re wasting valuable time.”
“Easy come, easy go, I guess,” I mutter.
Apparently as unimpressed with me as I am with him, he slides off the stool. “You’re a dumbass,” he tells me.
“I’m your boss; watch your mouth,” I advise him.