Baby Daddy

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝙾𝚗𝚎

6 months later

"So you're really not going?"

The champagne glass against my lips traps the words on my tongue.

Or maybe it's my wine induced mind that is getting unsure as the hours go by.

I think that sounds more reasonable, the wine clouding my decision. I'm undecided.

Should I stay in or should I go?

I stare ahead, a hand weaving through Piper's tangled mane and the other holding up the half empty glass.

I shake my head, cringing at the bitter taste in my mouth.

"I'm gonna stay in." I tell her.

I will wake up in five hours, go to work, come back after six o'clock and sleep or watch a movie.

Maddie's parties usually start right after eight or nine. The venues circulate according to the popularity.

And, regardless, if she wanted me to come, she would've sent an invite.

But she didn't.

But then again. . . ah fuck.

Piper hurriedly lifts her head from my laps and gives me a look.

Unbelievable, should be the word sizzling on her tongue right now.

I almost laugh, but hold back. It's the only thing she can say when there's nothing else to say. The only word that replaces indescribable situations and feelings to her.

For as long as I've known her, if I'm to count, she has said that over a thousand times.

I turn, glass in hand and sit cross legged while facing her with a smile.

She mirrors my position after reaching for another glass.

"Why not?" Her eyebrows furrow in absolute frustration. "Is it because of work?" She continues. "We can take the day off. Give the shift to someone else."

I laugh, "Well it's not like I got a personal invite. I'll just go there and then what?"

"Well it's not like you didn't cut off everyone you know for the last six months." She scoffs with a mocking eye roll. Everyone.

I gulp, guilty as charged.

Here goes nothing, I shrug pouring myself more champagne. Even though my heart thuds and my stomach churns in warning, I fill the glass until the red liquid spills.

"It's the weekend. It's not everyday we'll get the chance to go to an A-list party." She says desparately.

We. At this I laugh.

We.

Of course.

"I mean, you practically royalty. Your sister is Maddie fucking Pierce, queen of the runaway. And her husband," her light brown eyes roll into her head as she shudders. I laugh while she takes a swig at her glass, "you basically scored a jackpot with the other Michaelson." She adds with a flirty look.