Prologue
Crosby
“Fuck you! You’re a cheating whore!”I bellowed. I couldn’t believe my damn eyes. I mean, how could I? How could that be my fucking wife lying in a hospital bed holding a baby that was clearly not the fruit ofmyfreakingloins.
Her eyes grew wide as her jaw hung open. She had never looked more pathetic to me than she did right then. She sat there staring at me while I paced around the hospital room flailing around the papers I had just found, having a completetantrum.
“You have to listen to me. I swear, Will—” Her shrill voice pierced through the stale air, fueling my rage and igniting the embers into an uncontrollable blazeoffury.
“It’s all right here, Mindie!” I cut her off. I pointed at the printout before throwing it at the foot of her bed. “In black and white, plain as day. I mean, these things don’t lie. It’s all mapped out in the damn paternity test you had done. Couldn’t have figured out a better hiding spot than the drawer next to your goddamnhospitalbed?”
What am I going to tell my teammates and best friends?They were in the waiting room anxiously anticipating an introduction to my child. What a fucking ridiculous thought thatwasnow.
“It was only one time,” she said quietly, trying to defend her sorry ass. “I don’t know how thishappened.”
She was crying. The baby was crying. I wasfurious.
My stomach turned as I rushed into the bathroom connected to our room. Blowing chunks into the toilet while the bastard wailed only feet away was completely awful.Is this real life? When the hell is Ashton Kutcher going to jump out of the closet and tell me I’ve beenpunked?
Taking a few seconds, I stared at myself in the mirror abovethesink.
You can getthroughthis.
Justcalmdown.
I dampened a towel and held it to my face. My little pep talk was futile. There was no way I was going to be able to calm myself down from this shit. I stomped back into the room, heaving the towel into the corner of the room onmyway.
I stopped at the foot of her bed, my heart thumping in my ears as my handsshook.
“Will, can we talk about this? Please?” She wiped her tearstained cheeks with the end of the baby’s blanket.Fuckingpitiful.
“There really is nothing to talkabout.”
“Can I at leastexplain?”
I shook my head, white-knuckling the metal footboard. “You were worried enough to get a paternity test to check it—what more is there to explain?Andyou had me sign the damn birth certificate anyway. Who the fuck is hisfather?”
I thought about strangling my wife as she opened her mouth to speak, but that would be too easy for her. She was going to have to pay for this in someotherway.
“You don’t know him.” She looked so defeated. Her hair was in a messy, sweat-soaked bun, her skin was bright pink from crying, and she was shaking ever so subtly. Add in the hours-old child in her arms and if someone walked into that room, I would be taken out by the scruff of my neck for screaming at a woman in such a fragilestate.
“It doesn’t fucking matter anyway. I’m leaving—for good. I’m taking these with me, and you will have divorce papers in your hands as soon as I can get them to you.” I scooped up the paternity test and stormed out oftheroom.
* * *
Being home alone was fuckingawful. I just didn’t know where to go or what to do. Telling the guys in the waiting room was fucking ridiculous. Well, I barely told them. It was more of those guy-vague-conversations that they all knew to just take at facevalue.
I took a shower, tried to watch TV, barely ate any of the BLT I made for myself. So, I did what any guy would do in my situation. I grabbed my coat and went toabar.
“Crosby, you look like shit.” Jordan was trying to be funny but all I could do was scowl and sit at one of the empty barstools.
“Hey, Bates. How’s everythinggoing?”
She shook her head. “I think I should be asking you that question. But first, what are youdrinking?”
“Do you have a drink for finding out your wife just gave birth to someone else’s kid but lied to you the entire time and tricked you into signing the birth certificate?” Saying it out loud made my skincrawl.
“I think I have just the thing.” She poured me three fingers of Jameson neat and then looked over to her co-bartender. “Hey, Sara? I need to taketwenty.”