Fold

“Pre—”

“I'm go

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

I'm about to end the call when she says, “Wait. Please don't drive home. Call an Uber, okay?”

As if on cue, everything around me starts to tilt. “I will.”

“Goodbye, Preston.”

“Goodbye, Kit.”

The moment we disco

I swipe the screen on my phone, intending to pull up the Uber app, but a number flashes across the screen.

Buster.

And just like that, the device I'm holding now has the potential to become one of two things. A bomb that will make the damage worse, or a balm that will soothe the pain.

I'm frozen as I stare down at the world's most fucked up homophone in the palm of my hand, unable to press the button that will either end the torture or give me another hit of it.

Perspiration dots my forehead and my body thrums with need. I want nothing more than to respond to the impulse snaking through my bloodstream.

To roll the dice and escape.

But then I think about my future kid...and I realize that maybe the universe is offering me an option to get out of this black hole that spirals on repeat.

Maybe this is my chance at a new life. A reincarnation of sorts.

A way to fix my mistakes, or at the very least, not fuck up and make more.

Maybe I should pay attention to those red flags because they'll impact more than just me now.

For the very first time, I make the right decision.

I ignore Buster and arrange for a cab to pick me up so I can head home to my son, because he's the most important thing in my life from this day on.

Ever wake up with the feeling that the day ahead of you was going to be a great one? A morning so good you'd swear the stars must have aligned just for you at some point while you were sleeping?

Me either.

However, this morning? I don't have a massive hangover. I'm not calling any bookies or getting ready to jet to the nearest casino. And for once, Becca's need to hover over me until I get out of bed doesn't have me contemplating pissing in her organic oatmeal or thousand-dollar face cream.

So all in all, the day is off to a better start than most.

I watch as Becca gets dressed, my gaze falling to her belly. It's both fascinating and scary as hell that a tiny human who is half of me is growing in there.

Warmth fills the space around my heart as I walk over and place my hand on her stomach. I might be a royal fuck up, but one thing I know without a doubt is that I've loved this baby ever since he was a little peanut on a sonogram screen.

I'm pretty sure he's the only thing I've ever loved.

Becca clears her throat. “Do you mind? I need to put pants on.”

I back up. “Right. Sorry.”

I run a hand down my jaw, mulling over my next words. I'm not exactly thrilled with the thought of spending an entire day with her, but I know I need to make an effort. Bonding over the baby seems like a good place to start.

“Do you have any plans today?”

She shrugs. “Not really. Given classes start again at Woodside tomorrow, I was going to take it easy. Maybe catch up on sleep.”

“Oh. Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”

She must detect the hint of disappointment in my tone because she quirks an eyebrow at me. “What's up?”

I shuffle my feet, feeling uncomfortable. “I don't remember you mentioning having one of those parties for pregnant women.”

“You mean a baby shower?”

I snap my fingers. “Yeah, one of those.”

She looks down. “I don't think that's happening. My mom is living across the country with her sixth husband currently, and my uncles aren't going to put their mob life on hold to throw me one.”

I dig my hands in my pockets. “I think we should go shopping and get some things for him. The nursery only has a crib in it right now, and granted I don't know much about babies, but I'm guessing he's going to need more than that.”

She laughs. “He's going to need a lot more than a crib.” Her forehead wrinkles. “It's a little overwhelming, to be honest.”

I give her hand a small squeeze. I don't want her to feel like she's alone in this, because she's not. “We'll get through it together, okay?”

She looks around the room. “Do you want to go now?”

“Sure—” I start to say until I remember. “I left my car at a casino last night.”

She grabs her jacket. “I can take you to get it after we're done.”

I shake my head because the thought of my kid going anywhere near a casino disgusts me. “No. This is my mess.”

“It's really not a big deal.”

To her, it's not, but it's the biggest deal to me. I made a promise last night to be better and put my kid first and I intend to keep it.

“I'm going to call a cab, you stay here and make a list of things we need.” I glance at my watch. “I'll be home in an hour.”

I start walking to the door but stop abruptly. “Are you hungry? Want me to pick you up anything on my way back?”

She pats her tummy. “A little. I suppose I could go for something from the new organic place that just opened up, if you don't mind.”

“You got it.”

I start walking again, but her next statement stops me in my tracks. “By the way, I called the county earlier. It turns out there's no waiting period for a marriage license. So, I was thinking we could go tomorrow after classes get out.”

The air in my lungs suspends, making it impossible to breathe, but she continues without missing a beat. “Or, we could do something crazy and fly to Vegas. I know how much you love to gamble and all. I think it could be fun.”

My palms start to itch with that insatiable need, and I have to mentally count to five. When that's not enough, I dig my nails into my flesh until I feel the skin tear, concentrating on the sting it provides.

Me going to Vegas right now would be like sending a drug addict to a rehab surrounded by poppy fields.

The temptation is far too strong.

“The courthouse will be fine.” I rub the back of my neck. “Like you said, classes start tomorrow. I don't think either of us should miss any unless it's an emergency.”

I go to leave again, but to my absolute horror, she throws her arms around me. “You used to like me, Preston.”

My body goes rigid. I hate physical affection as it is, but I hate it even more when it comes with a side of emotional crap.

That said, she's not exactly wrong in her assessment. There was a time when I did like her. Or rather, tolerated her a lot more.

When she sniffles, a surge of guilt hits me. Becca may not be the girl I can't get out of my head, but she is the mother of my child.

“I'll do better,” I tell her.

“I hope so,” she whispers. “I wasn't lying when I told you I loved you, and I think if we tried, really tried. We'd be so good together.”

My throat bobs on a swallow and a breath saws out of me, rendering me speechless.

We both take my silence as my agreement, though—and a moment later she seals it with a kiss.

And I try not to pretend it's someone else's mouth on mine.

“Your order will be ready in fifteen minutes,” the brunette at the counter informs me.