Page 34 of Emerson

I hiccup and throw my hands up. “Gay and leaving! What else?”

“Emery’s turn,” Ian shouts, looking genuinely nervous when Dillon opens his mouth again.

“What about Penny?” I ask.

“We’re figuring it out.”

“How does a gay man end up with a baby anyway?”

“The same way a straight man ends up with a baby.”

I cross my arms over my chest and sit back in my chair. I will never admit how much I enjoy being at the center of Dillon’s attention. Never.

“I didn’t mean to find out you’re gay, by the way. And you didn’t have to announce it to the whole table.”

“No, you did that for me.”

I scoff. “I…” I shove a bite of food in my mouth, barely tasting it around the shame.

Fuck. Guilt tastes like shit.

“Don’t kill yourself choking on food on your own resurrection day, baby. I’m not mad.”

“Don caw me dat,” I say in outrage, bits of muffin flying.

“Don’t call him that,” Warren agrees. “That’s my baby brother, dude.”

Dillon rolls his eyes, drinking the rest of his sweet tea. “You know what? I’m not really worried about that anymore.”

Warren drums his fingers on the table in agitation. “I know you hate me right now, man, but I swear to God I didn’t cheat on your sister. I never would have cheated on her, and I didn’t leave her. She made that choice.”

“You still fucking lied,” Dillon snaps.

“So did she,” Warren sighs.

“Care to share what you’re talking about, perhaps? Some resurrection reflection?” I ask, looking back and forth between them.

“No,” they both say in unison. Warren hangs his head, Dillon crosses his arms.

“I’m thankful for being single,” Zane announces, cutting into the angry tension in the air.

“Same,” is all I can say.

Dillon

The hardwood floor is cold under my bare feet when I sit up on the edge of the bed. The clock on my nightstand reads 3:13 A.M.

Penny always used to wake up around this time. Still does some nights, even if it’s just to fuss or get her diaper changed now. Though those nights are few and far between.

Gone are the middle-of-the-night feedings. The falling asleep on her nursery floor because she would wake up as soon as I tried to sneak away. No more making bottles half asleep or rocking endlessly when she was gassy or decided nighttime was for babbling.

She gets a bath and goes to bed pretty easily these days. Even if she does wake up before the fucking sun most mornings.

Most mornings when she’s with me. I don’t know what she does with Sabrina.

It’s been almost a year since Sab moved out and took our daughter with her four out of seven nights a week.

I still hate it.