Songbird by Sydney Logan Page A

on the floor?
    “Hell if I know.”
    “Get your sorry ass up. You’ve had two days to wallow in your self-inflicted misery. Now stand up, take a shower, and be a man for once in your life.”
    “What is your problem? And why are you screaming?”
    “Because you lied.”
    “I did?”
    I groan as he helps me to my feet. When I’m halfway steady, I glance down to find myself wearing a tux—a very wrinkled and whiskey-stained tux.
    The room starts spinning again, so I stagger to the couch.
    Owen sighs loudly and sits down next to me. “Yes, you did. You promised me you wouldn’t be an asshole. You lied.”
    I squint against the blinding sunshine and try to focus on his face. It’s too much effort, and my head starts to pound as memories flash through my mind. Some moments are a little fuzzy—and some don’t make sense at all—but there’s one memory that’s clear as crystal.
    Callie’s pregnant.
    “You’re right. I’m an asshole.”
    My brother listens as I try to piece together the past two days. After Callie slapped the shit out of me and told me to get the hell out of her life, I found myself at a seedy bar on the outskirts of town. I remember a redhead, and I recall really wanting to sleep with her in hopes it’d purge my head of any and all thoughts of the girl I’d been missing for the past six weeks. But this girl was all wrong. She didn’t have long blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
    Bright blue eyes that I brought to tears.
    So, I took a cab home, where I apparently drank myself into a stupor and passed out for two days.
    My brother, always finding humor in the worst situations, begins to chuckle.
    “Nothing about this is funny, Owen.”
    “Oh, I beg to differ. I find it hilarious. Callie has ruined you for other women.”
    “It’s not that I can’t . I just don’t . . . want to. It’s complicated.”
    “It sure is.”
    I bury my head in my hands. “Callie’s pregnant.”
    “Yep.”
    “I’m the father.”
    “It would seem so, yes.”
    I rub my face. “Look, I know I handled this badly. But what did she expect? I don’t know this girl at all. I’m just supposed to assume this kid is mine because she says so? It was a gut reaction.”
    “I know, but you also shouldn’t have accused her of being a tramp, which is basically what you did. It’s no wonder she slapped the shit out of you.”
    “And how do you know about that?”
    “Girls talk.”
    Lorie.
    “That’s your problem, Dev. You’re a brilliant attorney who can convince a jury to acquit a stone-cold killer if you turn on the charm, but outside the courtroom, you don’t think before you speak. Did you shut up long enough to even consider the possibility that this woman could be the mother of your child?”
    No, I hadn’t considered it. Not for a second. Because that would mean I’d be forced to accept it.
    “I can’t be a father, Owen.”
    “Yeah, well, it’s not like you get a choice. Besides, Lorie says that Callie’s not one to sleep around. If she says you’re the father, then it’s probably the truth. Especially since she hasn’t dated anyone since the wedding.”
    “But what about before the wedding?” I ask, hanging on to my last thread of hope. Not that I really want to imagine another man’s hands on her, but at this point, I’m desperate.
    Owen shakes his head. “I don’t think so. The doctor says she’s about six weeks along.”
    With a groan, I cover my face with my arm. “What the hell am I gonna do?”
    “You’re going to be a man. You’re going to get out of that nasty-ass tuxedo, take a shower, get dressed, and go over to Callie’s and knock on her door.”
    I chuckle darkly. “Not happening.”
    “Oh, yes. And if she doesn’t shoot you on sight—which I admit is definitely possible—then you’re going to get down on your hands and knees and beg for forgiveness. You’re going to tell her that she can count on you for whatever she needs. Callie’s scared to death, man.”
    Of