Page 44 of Knocked Up by Her Daddy's Friends

I shake my head, “Not really. I mean, not right now. I’ll explain everything to you all tomorrow once Meg and Lucy are home if that’s okay?”

“Of course it is,” Trish says gently, placing a comforting hand on my knee. “Do you need to stay the night?”

“Yes please,” I reply, my voice childlike. I realize I hadn’t even asked that when I said I’d talk about it tomorrow.

“Do you want to go to sleep now?” Trish asks coaxing the decisions out of me like a person handling a small child nearing the end of a tantrum, afraid the wrong question will set them off again.

I shake my head, “I don’t think I could yet. Maybe we could just watch some TV for a while?” I say tilting my head toward the television that’s already on, playing whatever Trish was watching before I turned up on her doorstep.

“Sure,” Trish says with a smile, handing me a cozy blanket to snuggle up under, next to her on the couch.

“Thank you,” I say again, grateful for my friend and that it was Trish here.

I love Meghan and Lucy, but they’d both pepper me with questions and no doubt offer opinions with a splash of barely concealed judgment. I can’t face that right now. I can’t face talking about what happened. I want to bury my head in the sand and forget tonight ever happened.

I don’t want to admit that I might have lost the four men I was falling in love with, that I might even already be in love with.

I’ve lost them. Most likely forever. And it’s all my fault.

Chapter 23

Skye

Four weeks later

“Come on, Skye, it’s been almost a month, and you’ve not left the house. I get it, breakups suck, but it’s time to start moving on babe,” Meghan says, dolled up and ready for a night out while I’m sat in the same sweatpants I’ve been wearing all week on the couch.

They’re right of course, I can’t spend the rest of my life moping around pining over men who’ve made it abundantly clear that not only do they not want me, but they probably hate me too. I’ve tried texting and calling all four of them and none have replied. Each time I don’t hear back is like a knife in the heart, yet I can’t seem to stop myself from trying to speak to them.

“It’s not that we don’t want you here, Skye, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, you know that, but maybe Meghan is right, going out could do you good. Take your mind off things,” Trish offers kindly. Even she’s going out tonight.

“Please Skye, we haven’t gone out all four of us in months,” Lucy begs me, her brown eyes wide and pleading.

“I don’t know guys, I’m still not feeling well…” I say hesitantly, not wanting to leave the safety of the house.

I’m not lying. Recently I’ve been feeling nauseous all the time and have even been sick on multiple occasions. I’ve been feeling so sick that even the smell of frying bacon, something I love, makes me want to puke. I assume it’s the stress of the situation, I’m so heartbroken I’m literally making myself sick. I barely eat, and if I do it’s usually junk food, so no wonder my body is protesting.

“How about this,” Meghan offers diplomatically, “You come out for one drink, and if you’re still feeling sick, you can come home. What’s the worst that could happen? You might even have a good time,” she cajoles.

From the look of determination on Meghan’s face and the hopeful expressions Lucy and Trish wear, I know there’s no point fighting this. Sooner or later they’ll get their way.

I let out a defeated sigh, throwing the blanket off my legs I reluctantly agree, “Fine, one drink.”

Lucy squeals with excitement, clapping her hands together and doing a little hop.

“Yay!” Trish says, equally as happy.

Meghan smiles and then looks at my clothes, “Excellent. But first things first, girl you need to shower and let us give you a makeover.”

They all begin talking excitedly about what I should wear, and I allow myself to be dragged into the bathroom. I hop in the shower while they rush off to pick out an outfit for me. I can hear their squeals and laughter from the other room, and it makes me smile. I’m lucky to have friends as good as they are, I should try to remember that. I can’t have been easy to be around. They’re right. It’s time I come back to the real world. I’ve been letting my studies slip and before long we’ll be back at college. I need to decide if I still want to write about Bill and the Angels of Havoc. Right now thinking about them is too painful. But I also want Bill to pay for what he’s done, and to do that, I need enough information to write an expose against him.

Mom’s tried begging me to come home, but the thought of seeing Bill’s face again makes me sick. Regardless of my relationship with the guys, if their suspicions are correct and Bill has anything to do with Brewer’s death, I could never forgive him. I need to find out the truth, for Brewer.

Of course, Mom has no idea about any of this, so I’ve had to pretend that the reason I’m not home is that I want to live a more normal life and live with my friends during college. I’ve also said that I’m still mad at Bill for forbidding me from finding out more about my dad. But from her increasingly insistent messages telling me to come home, I can tell that, for whatever reason, Bill is behind it. Her words seem scripted and more like Bill’s than her own. I assume with the elections coming up his team has said it looks better if I’m there. Either that or he’s hoping I’ll give him information on the Angels of Havoc, something I will never do.

After finishing my shower, I feel more refreshed than I have in a while and a small part of me is looking forward to spending the night out enjoying myself and feeling normal again with my friends. From Meghan’s room, I can hear pop music blasting out and the sounds of the girl chatting happily. I throw on some clean underwear, wrap a towel around my wet hair, and head in there bracing myself for the makeover.

An hour later we’re pulling up to the club, the girls are already a bit tipsy having shared a bottle of wine. I’m still stone-cold sober having decided to wait until the club for a drink, the last thing I want is to be blackout drunk tonight. The girls have picked out a cute dress of Meghan’s for me that hugs my curves and blew out my hair making it sleek and glossy. But now I feel self-conscious as I follow behind my friends, teetering on my heels and tugging down the hem of my dress.

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