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I take another drink, because unfortunately the asshole has a point. "I'm calling one tomorrow."

"Good."

He keeps watching me.

Across the table, Colston sees it coming too. He shifts in the booth and takes a long pull from his beer.

“So,” he says, way too casually, “how about those Tritons?”

Trace doesn’t even look at him.

Colston lowers his glass. “Yeah, okay. Worth a shot.”

Trace keeps his eyes on me, tilting his head as he studies me. “You’re taking this really well for a guy whose wife spent the last year playing him. Why aren’t you breaking shit right now?”

Colston snorts into his beer. “Oh, this is the best part.”

I shoot him a warning glare, but the asshole just lifts his glass to his mouth, looking way too entertained.

Trace looks between us. “What?”

I take a drink and set my glass back on the table. “Because I’m having a baby.”

Trace blinks.

His eyes flick toward Colston before coming back to me. “Wait. You’re having a baby? With who? You just told me Delia can’t have kids.”

“Not with Delia.” I lean back against the booth. “That night, after I found out what she did, I went to a dive bar in St. Pete planning to drink myself into a coma.”

Colston nods. “As one does.”

Trace and I ignore him. “I ended up sitting next to a woman who’d just caught her boyfriend of five years fucking someone else in her bed. We got drunk, started talking... she wanted a kid, I wanted a kid.”

Trace’s eyebrows start climbing.

I shrug. “So I offered to give her one. We got a hotel room and spent the night making sure it took.”

He just stares at me.

Colston presses his lips together, already fighting a laugh.

Trace slowly sets his beer on the table. “You met some woman in a bar and offered to knock her up.”

“That’s a very simplified version of events.”

“What the fuck is the complicated version?”

Colston loses it, dropping his head as he laughs into his fist.

“Fuck you,” I tell Colston.

He drops his fist from his mouth and reaches for his beer, still grinning. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. Your face is doing plenty.”

Trace is still staring at me, but now a slow grin is spreading across his face. He shakes his head and reaches for his beer again.

“I take back every time I called you a boy scout. That is the most unhinged, fucking insane thing I’ve ever heard.”