Page 46

I follow her back to the table, and when we get there, Ami and Evan are gone like I expected.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” I ask, watching her chew on her lip, red-faced, indecisive, and refusing to look at me.
“Listen to me,Leo,” she says, waving her heels in my face. I am listening all right. Am I looking at her? Nope. Her tits have my attention again. “I’m drinking gin from an orange juice container. Does that tell you how I feel?”
She isn’t drinking gin. I’ve only seen her drinking that orange juice. She dumped the gin down the drain. So that tells me something. She’s lying to me.
“I don’t know how you feel because you’re acting like a child and not talking to me,” I point out.
Scowling at me, she sets the orange juice on the table, shifts her weight, and then reaches inside her purse and pulls out what I never expected to see.
Ever.
Never wanted to see.
She shows it to me and then tosses it on the table. Bringing her hand to her face, she tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “How’s that for talking? I bet you have nothing to say now, do you?”
“I do have something to say,” I reply matter-of-factly and lift my eyes to hers. “Can I have a drink?”
Beside us, Remy spits out his drink when he sees what Callie threw down on the table. I had no idea he was even still here.
Remy is in no position to give advice or even speak at this point based on how he’s medicating himself with over-the-counter meds and alcohol. “This, folks, is what we call a check to the head.”
Callie rips the alcohol bottle from his hand. “Go to bed.” And then she looks back at me. “I’m pregnant,” she says. “That’s what’s wrong with me.”
Remy stands hesitantly. I don’t think he wants to leave a man down, but he also wants nothing to do with this. “I’m out.”
And he leaves. I can’t blame him for not wanting to be part of this conversation. In fact, I don’t want any part of this conversation.
I stare at her, frozen with shock at what she said.
What is she implying here? That it’s mine?
How can I know it’s mine?
I don’t. I have no idea what Callie’s been doing this last month. She’s been ignoring me, remember?
And then it hits me. It’s probably mine. I know this girl, and since Dave, I doubt she’s slept with anyone else. Holy shit. Pregnant?
Am I breathing? I feel lightheaded. Check my pulse. Did my heart stop?
At my lack of words, Callie walks away.
The waiter shows up next, my third margarita of the night. I take it, drink it just as quickly, and take a seat at the table, watching Callie walk away. I should have said something, I know, but what?
Mase returns to the table, smiling, and then stares at me like he wants to shake me. “What’s with you?”
“Callie’s pregnant.”
Mase smiles. Just fucking smiles like this is good news. How the fuck can it be? I’m twenty-three. No way do I want to be a dad right now. I had a shitty dad. What makes anyone think I would be a good one?
“Fuck this margarita bullshit.” I push the glass along the table to the center where the chips are. Making the few steps to the bar, I look at the bartender and lean over the counter, reaching for whatever is back there. “Give me every drink you have.”
“Okay.” Mase places his hand on my shoulder and makes me come back to the table. “Just calm down.”
“I’m not fucking around.” I shake Mase’s hand off me and stare the bartender down. “Give me that shit, now.”
Raising his hands, Mase sits next to me, resting his elbows on the table. “Drink away.”