I give her the fakest smile I can muster as I turn to walk away. “I’m not in hell yet, lady. Don’t need to spend my time hanging out with the devil.”

A small scoffing sound erupts behind me, but I don’t stop. I stride across the field, ignoring the looks I’m garnering as I try to keep a serene expression on my face. I have a feeling I’m giving major serial killer vibes at this current juncture.

The way my hands have curled into fists might also be a dead giveaway.

When I step into the house, the screen door crashes shut behind me with a rattle and my confidence shakes in perfect time. The bridge of my nose burns, and I shake my head to clear away the tears that are springing up in my eyes.

It’s the middle of the afternoon at a child’s birthday party, and I need a fucking drink so I can process what that she-devil just told me. Or forget it entirely.

I pull a bottle of white wine from the freezer. It slips in my clammy palm when the screen door slams again. I keep my head down, setting the bottle on the counter and pulling the tinfoil wrapper off the top.

“What are you doing?” Cade’s voice is concerned. He’s so big that he blocks out a chunk of the light filtering into the kitchen.

“Having a drink,” I mutter.

I don’t have to look directly at him to know that he’s just crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance.

“Why?”

“Because I need one.”

“Willa. Look at me.” His tone leaves no room for argument, so I plant my hands on the countertop and stare back at him. “Good. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“That’s why I need a drink.”

Cade’s tongue swipes across his teeth as he regards me. “Tell me what happened, and I’ll pour you a drink myself.”

“Your wife just told me she got pregnant on purpose,” I blurt. “I think her words were birth control, no birth control, who’s to say?” My voice is shrill and panicked.

And then this man really sends me for a loop, because he fucking laughs. “Ex-wife.”

“Why the fuck are you laughing? I just told you that the smoking hot viper bitch in your backyard tricked you into knocking her up.”

His shoulders shake, and one heavily veined hand props up against his forehead to cover his eyes. “Of course, she did.” He sounds amused, flabbergasted.

“Is this funny? Aren’t you mad? She just admitted to being an atrocious person and you’re suddenly Mr. Giggles? She said you were robbing the cradle with me!”

He laughs harder, wheezing out, “Mr. Giggles?”

“Ugh!” I growl in frustration, too worked up to sit here and laugh about her baby daddy entrapment scandal.