Not Us: Cash & Devin

Chapter 8

Devin's POV

I woke up to a message on my IG of a pregnancy test, from Becky the Bimbo, as I was now calling her. Claiming Caleb the cheater, is the father. As I sit in my kitchen, looking out the windows at the snow-covered city, sipping my coffee. It was quiet. It should have been the most peaceful Monday morning I'd had in ages. But it was...disrupted...by this information. This would also mean, he had lied to me about when they started fucking, if the baby is in fact, his. I called Amber to let her know about the new development. She quickly added in a request for paternity as further proof of the affair and its length of time. Fuck. I didn't have to do anything else. These two fucking morons were doing all the work for me.

Eddie came around the corner in his pajama pants, looking tired, but at the same time, like he'd gotten more sleep in the past week than he had in years. Though, I know I felt the same. Med school and residence does that to you. We'd been actual doctors for three years and lived together with Emilia the first year after. We all lived here, in my apartment. Until we all started dating. Then, it got a little cramped. I was going to miss the memories of my times with them here. But the memories of being with Caleb here are too much.

"How are you doing, babe?" Eddie came over, kissing me on my head, before pouring himself some of the cinnamon coffee I'd made. He knew my coffee station was always well stocked so we could treat ourselves to something special on our days off instead of having the supposedly edible (or is it drinkable?), burnt black bean water they served at the hospital. I gave him a shrug. My head resting in my hand.

"Got this first thing this morning. Things are getting interesting." I handed him my phone, letting him see the offending IG message. He took my phone, finished pouring his coffee, and went to take a sip to see what he wanted to add before spitting it out all over the kitchen.

"I swear I'll clean that up. Are you fucking kidding me?! She's pregnant and claiming it's his?!" He was still in that first awake, not fully functioning state when you wake from an overnight sleep coma. I'm sure he didn't even know what day it was when he got up or if he was late for class. There was alarm and curiosity in his voice, but the anger hadn't come yet.

"You can't be her OB. You can't deliver her baby before mine."

"You're my sister. I'd never do that to you," he said, coming and taking a seat at the square high table I was sitting at. I turned my gaze out the window again, trying to let the peace pull me back before today got started. I heard muttering and looked over at Eddie who was now looking through his phone, muttering to himself. "I have to call one of the other OBs to see if they can take her. One of my residents picked her up as a patient in the clinic."

He stood to make the call when Em came around the corner. She saw my phone still on the IG message and gasped. Then went fully nuclear. This girl didn't need coffee to function. She was one of those weird morning people. By nine am most days, she'd had all the paperwork done for the day, double-checked her schedule, had one meeting, and was getting ready to go into her second, if not her third meeting, all on no coffee. What kind of psycho was I friends with?

"Got it all handled," Eddie said with a smile, coming back to the kitchen. Emilia was still frozen. She hadn't made a peep yet. Eddie and I stared at her, waiting for it to sink in and process.

"What the fuck is that?!" she whisper-hissed, pointing at my phone.

"That," I said, nodding to my phone, "is proof that he's been fucking her a lot longer than last night. And I'm not going to need another screening. We haven't come anywhere close to that while I was working on getting the trust built back up. But this? This ruins it for me."

"That slimy, disgusting, horrible," She was pacing back and forth, face red in anger, arms being thrown around as she spewed insults about my soon-to-be ex-husband, with steam coming from her ears. She looked like one of those cartoon characters in the middle of a meltdown. "I swear when I see that piece of shit, and believe me. That's an insult to shit. He will rue the day he started all of this with her. No! Before that! The day he even thought about talking to her or liked talking to her. No! The day he was born! He will rue the day he was born!" She was talking, very loudly, her chest heaving up and down from the anger seeping out of her.

"Well, he's possibly getting canned today and immediately after, is getting divorce papers." She smiled. Clearly, my little bit of evil payback had been pleasing to her.

If only I could be a fly on the wall when it happens. I wonder if there will be video footage. Tapping my chin, I decided to text Clint.

Fia: Hey Clint, it's Devin. I was wondering if there will be video footage of him getting the paperwork. I'd love a copy of it if there is.

Clint: Devin. Good morning. There will be. I'll have it sent over via email. Or we could all get together and watch it afterward for a good laugh.

Fia: Sounds like it will be a good laugh.

Clint: I'll bring dinner. Give me a head count.

I smiled, remembering yesterday in the hospital. The glances he was throwing towards Eddie. Does he want to get to know Eddie?

Fia: It'll just be me, Emilia and Eddie. Possibly my parents. Depends on when their flight touches down.

Clint: I'll prep for them also. Thank you.

I just smiled at my phone. This was going to be fun. So. Much. Fun.

Caleb POV

Walking into HR, I saw Becky was waiting. I hadn't seen or talked to her since I was on the phone with my mom. The head of HR was there, the boss and CEO, Mr. Westwood was there, his aide, and lawyer. Oh god. This wasn't going to be good.

Not at all.

"Please know, this conversation is being recorded for legal purposes. Mr. Clint Westwood, the head of HR, Jennifer Lowell, Mr. Westwood's aide Sade Jones, and myself, Amber Martin are all here. We are here today to talk about code of conduct violations that were clearly listed in your job contracts. Do either of you, Mr. Caleb Dennison or Miss Becky Brumsfeld, need a copy of those contracts? Please answer with a verbal yes or no."

We both responded the same, 'No'. It was quiet for a few moments after that. I was looking at my hands, praying in my head that they didn't know. I'd be fucked if they knew. I also knew I looked like shit because I hadn't slept since that night. Since the night I'd fucked up even more than I had when we'd just made out.

"The night of the Christmas party," Mr. Westwood started, and I tried not to flinch at his words, "Did either of you engage in activity that is otherwise against company policy?"

"No," Becky answered confidently. The lawyer smiled. HR stayed neutral as did Mr. Westwood, "Why?

"Well, we've come to receive some evidence that proves otherwise."

I looked up. Mr. Westwood was glaring between the two of us, and the lawyer looked like she was just served up something tasty.

This was bad.