Page 116 of Sin Bin Daddies
Ford is there, seated across from her with a beer in hand, looking far too sober for what I imagined.
I blink. No one’s half-naked. No one’s spread across the couch or moaning into someone else’s mouth.
There’s no music, no wine glasses, no teasing glances or laughter. Just tension. Thick, quiet, uncomfortable.
Still, I go to her. I bend down and kiss her, lips warm against mine. Her mouth parts, and for a second, I think maybe I was wrong.
Maybe this is still what I thought it was.
Then Asher hands me a beer. He doesn’t say anything. Just meets my gaze, calm but tight.
“What’s going on?” I ask, sitting across from her.
Madeline shifts. She’s not looking at me. She’s staring at her hands, fingers knotted in her lap.
“I was waiting for you,” she says. “We need to talk.” That’s when the dread hits.
Talk? Nothing good starts that way.
My stomach tightens. I set the beer down without tasting it.
“I’m pregnant,” she says.
Those simple two words detonate in my chest like a live grenade.
Ford chokes, then lets out a breathy laugh. “What?” He blinks, stunned, then immediately lifts a hand. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just—what?”
Pregnant.
She’s pregnant.
“Who?” I grunt.
“She’s only two months along so she’s not sure yet,” Asher answers. “And I was thinking that maybe we keep it that way until…”
He’s still talking, but I can’t calm the sound of my heart beating to make sense of what he is saying.
Madeline’s pregnant.
With one of ours.
My thoughts scatter. Everything collapses into noise.
I just got out of a marriage. I’m barely standing from that wreckage, and now this? With her?
The woman we’ve been passing between us like she belongs to all of us, and somehow, she does?
She works for the team. She’s on payroll. HR violations stacked like dominoes.
And it gets worse.
Madeline explains how her IUD somehow failed and how we didn’t use protection every time. Ford’s nodding, asking questions about who her doctor is, and can we get her a different OBGYN.
Asher already knows. They’re talking about the ultrasound set for tomorrow like it’s some casual Tuesday errand.
I can’t breathe.
Then another bomb drops.
