“My husband happened. We got into a fight two nights ago and he head-butted me. Atlas took me to the emergency room. They gave me six stitches and told me I was pregnant. Now I’m hiding out here until I figure out what to do.”

Poor Darin is frozen, halfway between standing and sitting. He has no idea how to respond to that. Based on the look on his face, I think he’s convinced I’m crazy.

Brad pulls out his chair and takes a seat, pointing at me. “You should get some Rodan and Fields. The amp roller works wonders for scarring.”

I immediately laugh at his random response. Somehow.

“Jesus, Brad!” Darin says, finally sinking into his seat. “You’re worse than your wife with this direct sales shit. You’re like a walking infomercial.”

Brad raises his hands in defense. “What?” he says innocently. “I’m not trying to sell her anything, I’m being honest. The stuff works. You’d know that if you’d use it on your damn acne.”

“Screw you,” Darin says.

“It’s like you’re trying to be a perpetual teenager,” Brad mutters. “Acne isn’t cool when you’re thirty.”

Brad pulls out the chair next to him while Darin begins shuffling a deck of cards. “Have a seat, Lily. One of our friends decided to be an idiot and get married last week, and now his wife won’t let him come to poker night anymore. You can be his fill-in until he gets a divorce.”

I had every intention of hiding out in my room tonight, but these two make it hard to walk away. I take a seat next to Brad and reach across the table. “Hand me those,” I say to Darin. He’s shuffling the cards like a one-armed infant.

He raises an eyebrow and pushes the deck of cards across the table. I don’t know much about card games, but I can shuffle cards like a pro.

I separate the cards into two piles and scoot them together, pressing my thumbs to the ends, watching as they beautifully intertwine. Darin and Brad are staring at the deck of cards, when there’s another knock on the door. This time the door swings open without pause and a guy walks in dressed in what looks like a very expensive tweed jacket. There’s a scarf wrapped around his neck, and he begins to unwind it as soon as he slams the door behind him. He nudges his head in my direction as he walks toward the kitchen. “Who are you?”

He’s older than the other two, probably in his mid-forties.

Atlas definitely has an interesting mix of friends.

“This is Lily,” Brad says. “She’s married to an asshole and just found out she’s pregnant with the asshole’s baby. Lily, this is Jimmy. He’s pompous and arrogant.”

“Pompous and arrogant are the same thing, idiot,” Jimmy says. He pulls out the chair next to Darin and nudges his head at the cards in my hands. “Did Atlas plant you here to hustle us? What kind of average person knows how to shuffle cards like that?”