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“If you can’t answer that question, you’re too young,” Tiller points out, glaring at the beer in my hand. He’s a recovering alcoholic. If anyone drinks in this house, he automatically hates them. Bonus points for me, he hated me before the beer in my hand.
“But I should know about it, right?” Camden asks, cracking open a Pepsi.
“Yeah, but seriously, you’re too young.”
“I know I’m too young.” Camden groans, tossing his head back dramatically. “It’s not like I’m going to do it, but if I did, like what do I do?”
“You’ll know when you get there.”
He flops his face down on the counter. “You guys are the worst.”
We both laugh and when Tiller finds something else to do, I pull Camden aside. It seems I always have to set the poor kid straight these days. Who knows the kind of shit Tiller has let him believe over the years. “If you’re gonna do it, make sure it’s with someone you care about.”
Relief washes over his face that someone is talking to him about it. “Was your first time like that?”
“Oh fuck no.” I laugh, finishing my beer. “Don’t be like us, Cam-man. This lifestyle you’ve seen, the parties, the women, we’ve fucked up a lot of relationships in the process.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
I lock my arm around his shoulder, hugging him to my side as we walk outside to the backyard. “You’re young, buddy. Stay that way. And don’t listen to a goddamn thing Tiller tells you.”
He snorts. “I know that.”
Outside, Carl and Ophelia are sitting near the bar. He’s smiling at her. She’s in a lounge chair, her bare legs crossed over another. I push away thoughts of her wrapping them around my waist and me carrying her upstairs because she’s with her dad.
Camden disappears back inside the house, hopefully not to get sex advice from Tiller, and I sit next to Ophelia.
Carl’s eyes move to mine, then over my shoulder to Shade walking out of the house, his face pure white. I wrap my arm around Ophelia when she moves from her place in the chair to sit on my lap. “Looks like the test was positive,” I whisper, smiling.
“Oh, shit. Really?” She cranes her neck forward, seeking out Shade who continues to walk toward us like a zombie, Ricky close behind him.
Shade stands in front of us, his sunglasses on, his face blank. Dramatically, he collapses into a chair across from us. All of us wait with anticipation, wondering if he’s going to tell us or not. After two minutes of silence, nothing. No words. Three shots from the bar, he lifts his sunglasses.
“Well?” Ophelia finally asks. “Is she?”
Beside him, Ricky smiles. Shade draws in breath, blinking in disbelief.
Willa comes out and stands in front of him. “Did she take the test?”
He nods. No words.
“And?” we all ask, eagerly awaiting.
Swallowing, he takes another shot. Setting the glass on the bar, he regards Carl, Ricky, me, Ophelia, and then Willa. No fucking words at all.
“Shade!” Willa kicks him. “Is she pregnant?”
Lifting the bottle, he pours another shot, his face frozen. Quickly downing it, he nods. “If two pink lines mean pregnant, then yes, she is.”
A magnitude of conversations begin. That’s when I lift my eyes to Shade. He’s twenty-five. And he’s going to be a dad. That’s crazy to me. About as crazy as Tiller being a dad, but maybe not quite as shocking.
Willa seems stressed out, Ricky gives Shade another shot, Carl congratulates him, Ophelia squeals and then runs in the house.
I straighten my posture and run a hand through my hair. “Heavy, man,” I say to Shade, not knowing what else to say. Judging by the expression on his face, I don’t know if he’s happy about this or scared shitless. Probably equal parts both.
He’s a little lit now, cheeks flushed, and smiles half-heartedly. “And here I thought getting married was scary.”
“What’d Scarlet say?”