Page 107 of Everything But Mine

The waitress drops off the check. We argue over it automatically, both reaching at once. Diego wins, but I still slip a twenty into the back pocket of his jeans while he’s distracted signing the receipt.

Outside, the air smells of wet pavement and summer rain. Diego pulls me into a tight hug goodbye, careful around my stomach. Right before he leaves, he slips a folded sticky note into my palm.

All loops and sharp angles. Eric’s handwriting.

Twenty-six weeks. He’s the size of a spaghetti squash.

Think names.

I smile, even when my throat tightens. I tuck the note inside my purse, in a zipped pocket, because it’s precious. A reminder that he’s still reaching for us.

I’m standing once again in front of 3C, Daray’s apartment. Maybe Cassie’s too. The hallway still reeks. It’s a kaleidoscope of nastiness that churns my stomach. I knock, and after minutes without an answer, I tap on the door endlessly until it opens—Diego’s style.

Daray’s in nothing but his boxers, the outline of his hard dick pressing against the fabric. Behind Daray, lying on the couch, I catch a glimpse of Cassie’s blonde hair and bare breasts. He does nothing to hide her, a malicious smirk forming on his lips as he eyes me from head to toe. I’m not hurt or humiliated. I’m actually a bit relieved that I don’t depend on him to feel whole. Daray doesn’t hold that kind of power. For better or worse, Eric does.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.” I press my palm against the door so he doesn’t close it on my face.

“And I’m not done fucking my girlfriend.”

“Finish later. She’ll probably enjoy it more on her own anyway.” I check the time on my phone. “Meet me at the corner coffee shop in fifteen minutes.”

He scoffs behind me, padding back inside, then his door closes when I get to the elevator. I tell myself he won’t show, but fifteen minutes later, we’re both at the corner coffee shop. He leans back on the chair in front of me, head angled up and looking to the side. His shirt is so tight that his nipples show.

He cuts me off when I open my mouth. “You can’t act like I didn’t make you come harder than anybody.” He slides into the seat next to me rather than across, then leans in and whispers. “You can’t fake that.”

I curl my lips into a smile. “Ask Cassie. I’m sure she has her own opinion on the subject.”

He rolls his eyes, then turns his nose up at me. “Is this because your new boyfriend can’t shoot?”

Heat flashes up my neck, and I fold my arms tighter across my chest. “Do us both a favor and stay away from Eric next time.”

Daray smirks, his teeth showing more on the left side. I pull the legal envelope from my bag and place it on the table between us. The yellow paper contrasts with the dark, old wooden surface.

The espresso machine hisses beside us, drowning out the clatter of his sunglasses when he knocks them from his collar as he reaches for the envelope.

“This is a declaration of intent to relinquish your parental rights to my child,” I explain with a flat tone. “It’s not binding until after the baby’s born, but it’s the first step.”

He leans back, opens the envelope with his brows lifting. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

He barks out a laugh. “You spent months telling me the kid was Eric’s, and now I’m supposed to take your word for it?”

“I’m not the liar here.”

His grin sharpens. “Oh, but you lie. About being wet and desperate for me. You miss milking cum out of a cock?”

I stare at him for a second, amazed that he’s smirking. “You created this mess, Daray. What the fuck were you thinking?” I look him in the eye. “Sleeping with both of us for months?”

He shrugs lazily. “I’ve got a healthy appetite.”

I ignore his comment so we can be done with this. “We didn’t use condoms. The pill failed. I’m twenty-seven weeks.” I let the number settle between us. “It’s yours, doesn’t have to be. Sign the papers.”

He taps the packet without touching it. “Why push this now if it’s not binding yet?”

Because Eric is finally trying to heal, and I won’t let you poison that.