NO LONGER THERE

CLUSTER TEN

CONFRONTATION

Remember when I said Bryce Allen Phillips doesn't drink?

He had sworn off  liquor, wine, even hard ciders since college. According to him, Poppa Phillips' alcoholism ruined the experience. When we met, he shared stories of his father making multi million dollar deals while intoxicated. Sometimes for the better, more often for the worse. He recounted hearing his mother plead with his angry drunk of a millionaire father to get help, think about his son.

He also recalled his angry drunk of a father remind his wife he was a grown ass man and she wasn't his mother. But apparently with a stellar legal team, he didn't need one. Poppa Phillips' lawyers were so smooth with making Hershey's embarrassing situation disappear. Apparently they had a lot of practice with their boss, professionally and personally.

Alcohol had kidnapped his father and his mother's loving husband. So, he made a promise to himself and to me, that drinking would never part of his life. Funny thing is, he was drinking when we walked through the door.

My excitement waned like summer transitioning into fall because Bryce Allen Phillips didn't drink. He nodded as we filed into the house, then nonchalantly returned to watching college football. Sensing the tension, Nana and Hershey made themselves scarce. It didn't help that they were both still a little hot under the collar with me.

Ignoring their beef, I decided to be happy. I was determined to be happy. So, I sat next to my sexy ass drinking man on the couch. Our lips lightly brushed, then he returned to watching football. When he did, I removed the near empty whiskey glass from his hand and announced, "We have to talk."

He muted the tv and focused intently on my face. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, but remembered that I was determined to be happy. I placed the glass on the coffee table and grinned.

"What has you so giddy?"

I let the cat out of the bag.

"I'm late."

"For what?"

"I'm late...late."

"For what...what?"

I rolled my eyes, then stomped to my purse. I was determined to be happy, and Bryce Allen Phillips was making it a little too damn hard. I pulled out the drug store bag and tossed it to him. It hit his shoulder then landed on his lap.

"What's this?"

I groaned and shouted,."Jesus Christ, Bryce. Could you even try to open the bag before asking questions?"

He raised in hand in surrender.

"Fine."

Crossing my arms, I tapped my foot and leaned on the island waiting for the plastic bag to rustle. A few seconds later I heard. "A pregnancy test?"

His head spun toward the island. With a my mouth wide open, I spread my feet and I raised my hands like I just finished a tap dance routine, jazz fingers and all.

Bryce jumped out of his seat. He rounded the sectional like running back headed for the end zone, grabbed me and lifted my apparently pudgy behind in the air. I smelled the whiskey on his breath, tasted it on his tongue, and I didn't care. I was determined to be happy and kissing my potential baby daddy made me extremely that.

***

I stared at the single line.

Bryce stood over my shoulder, his voice bouncing off the marble.

"Are we looking at it too soon?"

I read the instructions. I set the timer on my phone. We weren't looking at it too soon.