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“If you do anything to mess with her, I swear to God—”
“Relax, bro. We’re gonna be on our best behavior. Consider me the motherfluffing behavior police.”
I scoff. “You? That really inspires my faith.”
“I know when to get serious, dude, and I’m serious now. I will lay down my life for your pregnant girl in there if I have to. That said, you know in your heart I won’t need to. You don’t hang out with a bunch of losers. In fact, you very wisely leveled up when you chose the circle to keep around you. They say to hang out with people who are better than you, and you’ve really done a great job.”
I snort. “Thanks.”
“Now, go commune with my woman. Just…watch your nuts.”
I let my head fall back, resigned. “Fucking hell.”
Thatch winks, following it up with a deep, manly giggle as he trots down the hall to lock himself in a room with my…well, with Rocky.
I guess, despite her carrying my baby in her belly, she’s not really my anything.
The thought spurs an ache in my chest, but I rub against it with a rough hand and walk toward the theater room to meet my uncertain fate.
Lord knows being stuck in a room with Thatch’s crazy wife Cassie comes with no safety guarantees.
Who knows? Maybe they’ll just want to watch a chick flick or something?
I mentally try to give myself hope, but the instant I step inside the large, spacious room and find the screen completely black, all hope is lost.
With cautious eyes, I take a seat on a pillow in the center of a very large group of staring women and hold my fresh bottle of beer in my lap with slightly shaking hands.
They look at me eagerly, waiting for me to make the first declaration of some sort, and I’ve honestly never been more frightened in my life.
I look from one to the next slowly until I’ve met all eight pairs of their eyes. “Wow. There sure are a lot of you now, huh?”
Apparently, saying something at all puts the court in session, and I have no authority whatsoever.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Lena says. “Let’s get to the good stuff. How in the baby Jesus hell did you get Raquel Weaver pregnant?”
The rest of the group goes up in a flurry of noise and agreement, and I feel a strong mix of both understanding and offense.
Cassie notices my face first and reaches out to tweak the wrinkle between my eyebrows. “Geez, Harry. Don’t get all offended. We’re just saying… I mean, she’s a huge celebrity with a track record of celibacy. This is a big deal.”
“And isn’t she dating that Ben Huddleson guy?” Emory interjects. “I just saw her walking some red carpet with him.”
I open my mouth to explain, but Georgie beats me to it. “He’s probably just a beard. They’re always doing crazy shit like that in Hollywood, right? Tell me I’m right.”
I open my mouth to confirm but am cut off by yet another woman.
“No freaking way. They’d really pretend some other guy was the father of the baby?” Winnie asks. “Why? What’s wrong with Harrison?”
“He doesn’t have the A-list factor,” Lena explains. “I know from the fashion world…it is a veritable jungle out there.”
There’s an unnatural pause in their chatter, and they all look to me expectantly. Unfortunately, I now have little to no idea what I’m actually supposed to do or say.
“Um, yes,” I try, and Maybe’s eyebrows draw together.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes to what you said, I think.”
“Which part?” Emory asks. I shrug.
“You’re saying that they’re faking her relationship with Ben, correct?” Georgia finally clarifies. I nod fervently.
They all chatter in an explosion again, and instantly, I feel like that’s something I probably shouldn’t have said. Fuck, these women must hold some kind of black magic power. Two minutes in here with them and I’m spilling all the fucking Hollywood beans.
I try to tell them the Douchebag Huddleson detail is one that needs to be kept under wraps, but they’re too lost in their own side conversations to even listen. By the time the mayhem settles, I’m covering my head for protection and offering up prayers to God that I make it out of this room without an injury courtesy of Cassie—the loudest one in the room.
Before my fight-or-flight—aka curl into the fetal position or run—responses can kick in, Georgia pulls my hands away, and immediately, the advice starts.
“Be there for her, even if she tries to push you away.”
“When she tries to push you away,” Winnie stresses. “Trust me, we all seem to go through it, but I don’t know what I would have done if Wes hadn’t found a way to be there for me even when I didn’t want him to be. It’s a lot to be a single mom. I can’t even imagine what’s going through her head right now since her life is very much in the spotlight and people are watching her every move.”
