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That wasn’t in question here.
He poured himself another shot.
Brendan woke up on his living room sofa in the same position he’d passed out in. An empty bottle of whiskey sat on the table. His head pounded and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, sticky and fetid with the remnants of alcohol-induced sleep. The fire in the hearth had long since gone out, leaving a chill in the air. He pulled the throw on top of him and closed his eyes against the early morning light.
One of the few perks of passing out in a drunken stupor was if he’d had any dreams, he certainly didn’t remember them. Brendan was more than good with that. He’d gone months without having any, the last one he remembered was around Thanksgiving, but with Salena’s death they’d come back.
He was too old for this shit. After Jesse left last night, with an open bottle of Glenlivet, his only purpose was to slow his racing thoughts, numb the pain, and drown his sorrows. It seemed like a good idea at the time. This morning it sounded fucking pathetic, even to him. Brendan was going to be thirty-three next month and he’d made it through every fucked-up thing life had thrown at him so far. He had a baby on the way, for fuck’s sake. Yeah, he was way too old for this shit.
There was a gentle tap at the front door, then it opened. He really should remember to lock it. Keep the well-intentioned busybodies out. Namely Chloe. In all likelihood, it was her. She was lucky he loved her ass something fierce, because he was none too pleased with her at the moment. By not betraying Katelyn’s confidence, she’d betrayed him. Kept his baby a secret from him for what—close to seven weeks now? It was going to take him a bit to get past that.
He felt the shift of the cushion beneath him when she sat down on the edge of the sofa. He could smell her freshly washed hair. Milk and coconuts. His head was still pounding, so he refrained from opening his eyes. A soft hand touched his.
“Brendan?” She tentatively spoke his name in a voice almost too quiet to be heard. “You know I love you the most. Well, after my husbands and my son, that is. I love you and I’m so sorry, but I promised. Please, you have to forgive me.”
“Is that what you came here for?” His eyes remained closed.
“Um, yeah.”
“Okay.” He tried to roll over, but she was in the way. “You can go now.”
She shook his arm. “Brendan. It’s not like you think. Katie wanted to tell you herself and she wanted you to be the one to announce it to everyone.”
Why didn’t she then?
“I only knew because I was at the appointment with her. See, I told her to come back with me so she wouldn’t have to sit in the waiting room all by herself and then when it was her turn I just stayed. Good thing too, because she was so not prepared for that unexpected news, let me tell you…”
Now that Chloe started, she’d keep going until she recounted every last detail or ran out of breath to speak. He couldn’t tune her out even if he wanted to.
“…total shocker. You should have seen her face. She spotted at Christmas and thought it was her period, I guess. I mean, I could understand what she was feeling and all. She walks in to get a script for the Pill and walks out with samples of prenatal vitamins.” Chloe giggled.
He didn’t find it at all funny.
“She kept asking Roberta—she’s our doc—if she was sure, until she heard the heartbeat and saw your little bean on the screen anyway. There was no doubt after that.”
Brendan cracked his eyes open. “Little bean?” He sat up. “You saw my baby?”
“Yeah.” Chloe smiled. “Katie got pictures for you.”
I should have been there.
She hugged him. “She was scared, Bren, and that’s a normal thing to feel. But she asked me not to tell anyone and I promised I wouldn’t. I know she was going to tell you, and then the Salena thing happened…and she didn’t want to come over for Super Bowl because she had it all planned to tell you that day and…” She shrugged in his arms.
And he got the phone call that changed everything.
He was an ass.
“Brendan?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you, baby, but you stink.” She patted his back. “Go take a shower. I’ll fix you some breakfast.”
Brendan needed a shower, to drink a gallon of cold water, and swallow eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen before he’d even come close to resembling a functioning human again. He just wasn’t sure if he possessed the energy or the capability to get off the couch. But he pushed himself, and while a hot shower wasn’t the panacea for a hangover, at least he didn’t feel quite so disgusting.
Chloe had breakfast waiting for him as promised. Chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and orange juice sat at a place on the kitchen island. Brendan appreciated the gesture, but he wasn’t in the mood for company or conversation. He had a lot to think about and he required solitude to do that.
“Feel better?” She smiled at him.
