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With a string of curses, he kicks off the sheets and stumbles out of bed. On his way to the bathroom, he flips me off and grumbles under his breath.
Satisfied he won’t go back to sleep, I bounce back down the stairs. The kitchen feels alien without the usual morning rituals—no clinking mugs or rich scent of coffee. My laptop is already perched on the kitchen counter, and my million tabs are all bookmarked and open in case I need them. Fuck me, I’ve been up all night and I’m flagging. But thanks to a not-so brilliant realization last night, there’s no longer caffeine in the house.
That reminds me, I need to find out if it’s only bad if Gail drinks caffeine, or if she can’t be around it either. I pick up my phone and open the Notes app, writing the question into the document filled with more questions for the doctor.
If only I’d had this fucking epiphany before we went to Dr. Patel’s, I’d already have my answers, but I didn’t. Hindsight fucking sucks.
Mickey mumbles something incoherent as he joins me in the kitchen, heading straight for the coffeemaker. Half-asleep and fully annoyed, he fumbles with said coffeemaker before swearing under his breath. “Tell me we’re not out of coffee,” he grunts, slamming the empty tin on the counter.
“I threw it all out,” I say, scratching the back of my neck where the spider web tattoo always seems to itch when I’m on edge. “It’s not good for Gail.” Now, as I’m in a more rational headspace, I realize she could just not drink it, or sniff it, or whatever. But what’s done is done.
“Perfect. Just perfect,” he huffs, slamming a cabinet shut. The sound ricochets in my chest, an echo of the frustration knotting inside me. “So I can’t have coffee because she fucked some guy and now wants our money. Yep, that seems fair.”
Rolling my eyes, I lightly punch his shoulder. “Fuck off.” When he bares his teeth at me, I chuckle. Jesus, he never used to be this bad in the morning. “Look, I know it’s early,” I say, leaning against the counter, feeling the cool granite press against my inked arms.
“Early doesn’t start to cover it, man,” Mickey shoots back, but there’s no real fire behind his words, just the dull burn of disrupted routine. “And now you’re denying me coffee. What’s next? Want me to walk around with a pillow under my shirt so we can all get fat together?”
I grin. “That’s not a bad idea—”
“It’s a fucking terrible idea,” he volleys, his silver eyes flashing with anger. “What’s this really about?” He crosses his arms over his bare chest, half-awake and fully annoyed.
“She’s over two months along, Mickey, and we’re just finding out.” The words taste bitter, heavy with the sting of betrayal and fear. My stomach churns, a roiling mess of emotions that I can’t quite put a name to.
“So?” His brow furrows. “You expect me to throw her a baby shower or something?”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Last time I checked, you weren’t the baby shower type.”
“Damn right,” he mutters, but there’s an edge of concern that wasn’t there before. He’s in this, whether he likes it or not.
“Look, I spent the entire night reading through the material Dr. Patel gave us. Then I dove into every mom blog and online forum I could find,” I confess, running a hand through my hair, feeling the inked skin stretch with the movement. “We need to know what we’re dealing with here, man.”
“Great. So now you’re an expert on pregnancy?” There’s skepticism lacing his tone, but it’s not enough to mask the undercurrent of fear.
“Far from it,” I admit, scratching at the base of the tattoo peeking from under my sleeve. “But I’ve got a crash course on prenatal vitamins, morning sickness, all the first-trimester crap she’s dealing with.”
Mickey exhales sharply, the sound filling the space between us. “This is real, isn’t it?” Then, as though he didn’t mean to admit that, his eyes darken. “What does that have to do with me? I’m not letting another bitch lie to me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying really fucking hard not to snap at him. The thing is, I get where he’s coming from. To Mick, this is basically like a walk down the worst part of memory lane, and I fucking hate that for him. It’s also so much more than that. This isn’t one of those situations where you can pause and weigh your options. This is happening with or without us.
“Remember what I said the other day? I can’t turn my back on family. Whether the baby’s yours or mine, it’s family.” My tone is stern and unyielding because I really need him to get this.
While he continues to bitch about Gail, I focus on the sea of prenatal tips I’ve read my way through all night. It’s a strange new world—one that Gail has unexpectedly thrust us into. There is so much more to this than I ever imagined. Then again, I’ve never given it much thought, so I shouldn’t be surprised by how clueless I am.
Feeling like I need to say something, I look at my friend, who still looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. “Look, Mickey,” I start, but I’m cut off by the shake of his head, the distrust etched in every line of his face.
“Un-fucking-believable,” he snarls. I let him stew as he runs a hand through his white hair, the fight ebbing away as he looks anywhere but at me. “Fine. So what are we doing?”
“First things first, we make sure she’s got all the stuff she needs. Prenatal vitamins, food, whatever other witchcraft these blogs talk about.” My attempt at humor falls flat against the tension hanging between us.
Mickey finally meets my gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. We’re in this, whether we like it or not. We may not trust Gail—not yet, maybe never—but there’s an innocent life caught up in our mess, and that life doesn’t give a damn about past sins.
“Alright,” he mutters, a reluctant ally in the chaos that’s become our lives. “But don’t expect me to start being nice to her.
“And if it’s you?” I ask, arching an eyebrow. “Are you going to step up?”
Panic flicks across his expression before he grinds his teeth so hard only anger and tension can be seen and felt. “So what is it you want, Soren? Want me to go shopping for her?” he spits. When I nod, he lets out a strangled laugh, so I quickly shake my head.
“Notforher,” I quickly clarify. “With her.”
