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I forced a laugh, because that was what he expected me to do. That was all I’d done all week. Pretending to be okay, when inside, I felt numb. Dead. Without Vaughn, there was only an empty, dark void that not even Hayat’s warmth could touch.
And according to the state of California, I was his legal wife.
“The amount of trouble I get into doesn’t go up or down according to whether or not my bestie is in town.” Hayat tapped him on the nose playfully.
“Strongly disagree. I don’t have nearly as much paperwork to deal with when Abi is here. She’s been home for what, five days? And I haven’t had to kick a single person out of here since she’s been back.” He drummed his hands on the bar top, the platinum band of his wedding ring glinting. “That’s a new record, cupcake.”
“Why do I put up with you?” Hayat grumbled.
“Because this place would go to hell in two point three seconds without me,” he reminded her with a smirk.
He wasn’t wrong. Nate could run the VIP section of the club on his own if he had to. When he wasn’t slinging drinks for the rich and famous, it took at least three other bartenders to run everything as seamlessly as he did.
“You two be good,” he warned, already pouring drinks for the group that had come up to the bar beside us.
Hayat’s nose scrunched up. “I can’t make any promises.”
I picked a piece of strawberry off the top of my drink and popped it into my mouth, pretending to people watch. After I hadn’t left the house for even my usual morning run, before she left for her trip the night before, Mom insisted we go out tonight. Hayat hadn’t been any more excited to leave my parents’ place than I was, but we knew our mothers would call the club to confirm we’d at least made an appearance.
With her identity as Havoc exposed, Hayat got mobbed as soon as she went anywhere public now. Thankfully, security was tight in her dad’s club. And since everyone in the VIP was a celebrity who wanted some downtime, no one was likely to bother her up here. Hayat and I had been hanging out at First Bass since I was seventeen. Security did a thorough job of checking IDs at the door. Even the best fakes couldn’t sneak past. If they were at least seventeen, they could get in, but they had to be stamped with an ultraviolet ink that wouldn’t wash off for days, letting staff know they were underage.
If anyone with the ink was caught with alcohol, they were instantly banned. Uncle Harris had worked hard to make First Bass the most successful club on the West Coast. But he also wanted it to be a safe place for everyone. Not just for the VIPs who had to pay a membership fee, but everyone else who just wanted to have a good time.
Twenty-plus years after he’d opened the club doors, there was still a line two blocks long to get in every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. I popped a strawberry into my mouth, whipped cream and sweet fruit waking up my taste buds. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten anything other than a few random handfuls of popcorn. Maybe the greasy slice of pizza Hayat forced on me while some satire spoof movie played in the background. That was Wednesday.
Cheese and sauce had settled hard in my stomach, making me even queasier than I had been. I’d puked it up in my bathroom not long afterward. Thankfully, Hayat had been so tuned out because of what was going on with her, she hadn’t heard me being sick.
Guilt tried to press down on me, but I pushed it away. My best friend had too much going on. I hadn’t wanted to add more to her already overflowing plate with my own drama, but after the call from Aunt Emmie that morning, I didn’t have much of a choice. I’d kept the little tidbit about suspecting I was pregnant to myself, however, not wanting to freak her the fuck out by telling her I was a few days late.
I wasn’t even sure I was actually pregnant. It could have been stress. My period would show up any minute now.
No matter how many times I tried to reassure myself that I was overthinking, a part of me hoped I didn’t start my period. Having a baby would cause more trouble than I was ready to face, but it would give me something of Vaughn. A reminder that he had loved me.
He. Wasn’t. Real.
But if there was a baby, then that meant he was real.
Right?
Anyone could fake a marriage license, but you couldn’t fake a flesh and blood child growing in your body.
“Two-thirds of the Terror Trio walking around this place. I’m scared, Damien,” a deep voice full of amusement said as two guys stopped right beside me.
Taking another drink of my virgin daiquiri, I rolled my eyes at Mason Stevenson as he and his cousin pushed between Hayat and the new group at the bar on our left. The guys were honorary family members for me, but it was a complicated, messy family tree with them, Hayat, and Maddie.
It was a headache to explain to anyone who didn’t already know our family dynamic. Damien’s mom was Aunt Lucy’s biological sister Lana. Damien’s dad, Drake, was Mason’s dad’s brother, Shane. Maddie’s stepmom, Trinity, was Uncle Harris’s sister, and his stepmom, Natalie, was Drake and Shane’s sister.
Mason was six years older than Damien and Hayat, but even with the age difference, they had always been close. With their dark hair, scruffy jaws, and blue-gray eyes that were a Stevenson trademark, the cousins had the female population tripping over themselves whenever they turned their smiles on them. Paparazzi followed them relentlessly, looking for any sign they were following in their fathers’ footsteps. Drake and Shane had had colorful pasts before getting married that the world wouldn’t allow their sons to forget about.
Every move Damien and Mason made was compared to whatever bullshit their dads had done at the same age. Wherever the two cousins went, chaos ensued. Much like when Hayat, Maddie, and I were all together. Only, the boys’ trouble would be overembellished by the media to make it look worse than it really was.
Hayat turned to face her cousins, her eyes scanning the area behind them. “Where is my brother?”
“We’re not Evan’s keeper,” Damien grumbled, leaning back against the bar top with a scowl as he glared at everyone around us who dared to look in his direction. “He ditched us for Bentley.”
“They went to a party without you?” I asked curiously. Mason and Damien avoided parties at all costs.
“Fuck if I know,” he groused. “Bentley rolled up outside, and Evan jumped in the back with Ali.”
