As much as I hate to admit that he’s right, he is, and right now, the odds are stacked against me in getting the media and—more importantly—Jane to believe me.
Mark sits forward again and furrows his brow with a deep breath, sighing and rapping his knuckles on the table.
“Okay well, we need to figure out a way to prove that not only is the baby not yours, but that you didn’t even sleep with her.”
“Right.”
“Okay, so when was the last time you actually saw her then? Let’s focus on that and then work from there to find a timeline.”
I think for a moment and then it comes to me. I nod.
“The first time I saw her in two years was when Terry caught us, honestly. Having said that,” I added with raised brows and an annoyed laugh, “it isn’t as though she isn’t trying. She’s been hounding me and trying to get me back in bed for ages.”
“And you haven’t agreed?”
I shake my head vehemently and chuckle, knowing full well that I’d never stick my dick in that kind of crazy again.
“Not even once? Like, not even maybe a BJ that turned into something else?”
“Fuck no, I turned her down every time. She was fun and all, but she’s a bit crazy for my liking-- the false pregnancy proving my point.”
Mark nods absentmindedly and drags his hand down over his face, clearly trying to work out an angle for me. I really do appreciate him being here for me. He’s one of my best friends and he’s helped me through some pretty precarious situations with the ladies before.
“Look, I know that this really doesn’t seem like that big of a deal and all, but it is. I really like Jane. I want to be with her and no one else. I know that it must sound ridiculous coming from me given my history with women, but it’s true. There’s just no one else who compares to her and when I’m with her I just… Fuck, man, I don’t know.”
I don’t want to get all sappy and emotional in front of Mark—I don’t even like getting sappy and emotional by myself—and I can feel it coming on, so I finish my drink and wave down the waitress.
We order another round from our waitress as we continue to brainstorm, determined to come up with a solution despite the fact that our efforts have come up with nothing so far.
“And you’re sure that Jane is worth all of this?”
I give him a glare that says just how serious I am, and I lean forward.
“Watch it, Mark.”
“Hey, hey, I don’t mean it that way I’m sure she’s a great girl. All I’m saying is that right now this whole situation is causing you way more trouble than the court case ever did, and it’s only gotten worse. I just want to make sure that you’re serious and that the risks and hits you’re taking are worth it. You’re my friend,” He adds with a shrug, “And I care. That’s all.”
“I appreciate it, Mark, but yes, I’m very serious. No one has ever made me feel the way that Jane makes me feel and honestly, the thought of losing her for good makes me feel fucking sick.”
Not to mention Nia. That little girl stole my heart just as much as her mother did, and I don’t even want to think about what all of this is doing to her. She’s just a kid and she doesn’t deserve to be caught up in this bullshit. I never once thought that being a father figure to a kid—let alone someone else’s kid—would be something that I wanted, but one thing I know for sure is that I want to be a part of her life.
I down the rest of my drink, starting to feel a little tipsy and wonder if I shouldn’t stop. Mark ordered us a bottle of aged whiskey at the beginning of the night, and while he certainly drank more than I have, I’d still like to slow down. Trying to problem-solve while sober is hard enough most days, so I don’t need to add a bottle of whiskey to dull my senses on top of that.
I’m no stranger to being drunk, obviously, but the last time I drank too much of the same whiskey that’s in my cup right now, I was stranded on a tarmac for hours on end.
And that’s when it hits me.
“Fuck, I’ve got to go,” I say with a grin, standing up from my seat, “Here, drinks are on me, thanks for helping me figure this out.”
Mark looks at me like I’ve got seven heads and asks me what the hell I’m talking about and where I’m going, but I just wave him off and jog out of the bar, knowing exactly how I’m going to fix this.
I’m not letting Jane go, not this easy.
33 Jane
“My fenders don’t really whip me into a verbal frenzy.”
I giggle as I watch one of my favorite romantic comedies: Ten Things I Hate About You.
I could list more than ten things I hated about Riker right now. One—my eyes drop to the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream I’m holding—was the weight I was putting on for eating this tub. Two: the number of hours it would take for me to sweat off those pounds. Three: how Riker reduced a mildly successful litigator with years of schooling under her belt into the typical romcom heroine who cries into her ice cream in front of a romcom on TV because of a breakup.
Who am I?
I plunge the spoon back into the pint, my eyes catching the shine of my engagement ring.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips and I
