“It’s so good to see you!” Sarah cries affectionately, wrapping me in a full-body hug.

I hug her back gingerly. Even knowing Sarah wants to see me, I still feel uncertain about spending time with her when I know how fiercely she loves all of the Millers. Hell, I’m nervous simply to see any of the three, let alone hang out with all of them—together.

“How are you?” she asks, pulling back and looking at me. “I don’t know if I just forgot how beautiful you are or if you somehow got even prettier.”

I shake my head dismissively. “I’ve been well. How are you? I can’t believe how big the boys are!”

“I know, right? Well, we aren’t really telling people yet, but … we have another one on the way!” she whispers conspiratorially followed by a quiet squeal as her eyes round with excitement and her smile grows so wide, I can see all of her teeth.

“Congratulations!” I wrap my arms around her once again, feeling her hands constrict even tighter with this hug.

Over her shoulder I see Max look to Hank for verification and see Hank nod sheepishly. “Congrats, man.” Max grins as he reaches forward and slaps him on the shoulder. “You guys are going to have an entire basketball team.”

“You look amazing! How are you feeling?” I ask. My hands are both still clutched tightly within hers.

“I feel great! This has been without a doubt the easiest pregnancy. No morning sickness, barely any fatigue, I think it must be a girl!”

Hank nods proudly. “The first girl Miller to be born into the family rather than married into it in four generations. We need to celebrate,” he announces.

Surprisingly, it’s Sarah who suggests that we go out to a bar. Still feeling the effects of last night, I feel grateful that she’ll be sticking to water as well.

We pile into Hank and Sarah’s rental SUV with Max sitting in the front beside Hank to provide him with some brief directions to a bar that ends up being more along the lines of a sports bar than a dancing one, much to my relief. Inside, the air is a bit too cool, and it’s filled with the scent of beer, but it beats the memory of the hot and sweaty bodies of last night.

The place is fairly desolate. Even though it’s a Saturday, we’re here too early for many others, but there’s a couple of older women at the bar that are lost in conversation and a dozen or so guys sitting at tables with large mugs of beer, watching screens showing different sporting events. A few of them are laughing through conversations that look easy. Two girls that look about my age are playing pool. Their attention turns to Max as we gather around a table.

“Let’s play pool! Girls against boys!” Sarah cries, standing from the chair she had just claimed. “You guys are so going down!” she taunts.

Hank laughs and shakes his head. “We’ll see who’s going down tonight.”

I turn around as he winks at her and hope they won’t spend the entire night making out. That will only expand the awkwardness. I catch sight of Max striding over to the bar. He leans against it and is instantly greeted by the bartender, a woman, of course. She’s older than us, but tries to disguise it with wearing her hair a bright blond with dark chunks that are seen through the pigtails she has hanging over each shoulder. Her tight black T-shirt goes so low it reveals the red lace of her bra cups. Classy.

She smiles at him, obviously flirting, and I’m sure it’s for more than a tip.

“Please tell me you know how to play pool,” Sarah pleads, interrupting my visual stalking session.

I try hiding my emotions with a quick smile. “No, I was depending on you with your big talk.”

“He misses you, you know,” Sarah says solemnly. Her eyes move to the bar where the bartender is now giggling a reply to Max.

“He looks pretty distracted and entertained.” Grabbing a hair tie around my wrist, I pull my hair into a quick knot.

Sarah looks at me with obvious surprise and opens her mouth to say something, but Hank arrives before she can, delivering a tray of pool balls. I begin racking them as Hank and Sarah engage in another make out session. All of my focus is trained on organizing the balls in the pattern I know from watching Kyle play at my house growing up, which buys me time to avoid looking at them.

“That bartender seems pretty interested in your man.”

I look up to see one of the girls that was playing pool standing a few feet from me with a pool cue between her hands, the end of it rests between her heels.

I know what she’s doing—she’s fishing to see if Max is my boyfriend or if he’s free game.

“We’re just friends,” I assure her, watching as her face noticeably lights up.

“Thanks,” she says with genuine appreciation, as if this fact is in some way a gift to her.

“Max, get your ass over here!” Hank yells. My eyes turn back to him and watch as he drains a shot and then hands a bill to the bartender before heading over to us with three more shots in his hands.

He hands one to Hank and offers me another that I refuse with a shake of my head accompanied with a small smile.

“Don’t want to have a good time, Ace?” He says my name with contempt, the entire sentence lined with anger.

“I need all the help I can, and that isn’t going to help,” I reply, trying to convey that I come in peace.

“Alright, I’m breaking!” Sarah calls, heading to the front of the table while Max tilts his head back and swallows one of the two shots.

The crack of the balls diverts my attention, filling me with hope when several of the balls splinter across the felt.

My hopes are crushed within a few brief moments. We’ve somehow managed to sink in three balls, by luck in its truest form, but Max stands at the side of the table, lining up the shot he just announced for the eight ball.

“Maybe we’ll have a better shot at darts?” I suggest, turning to look at Sarah after watching the ball effortlessly fall into the hole.

“Maybe you’d have a better chance if you weren’t staring at every guy in here.” Max’s jaw is clenched, and the veins are more prominent in his forearms from gripping the pool cue too tightly. “What would your boyfriend think?”

“Boyfriend?” The word bursts through my mouth like a bad taste.

“Don’t play the innocent, naive card with me.”

“Max,” Sarah says, stepping beside me.

I don’t turn to look at her, my focus remains on Max’s eyes that are narrowed slits of anger.

“Don’t protect her! She doesn’t need anyone to protect her. Just ask!”

“Max, you need to—”

“What? What do I need to do Sarah?” Max clips.

“Max,” Hank warns, taking a step forward.

“What? You want to throw down over this? Over her?” Max yells belligerently. “Believe me, it’s not worth it!”

It’s? I’m an it? Not only am I an it, but I’m not worth it. I work to maintain my composure while his words burn through me, leaving fresh imprints of failure and pain. I watch him take a few steps back, still holding his pool cue in clenched fists.

“It’s not worth it,” he repeats, shaking his head and then turning and disappearing into the crowd that has somehow formed in the brief time that we played.

I take a deep breath, regretting my decision to stay and come out with them. Nothing could be more embarrassing and awkward right now then having to turn and face his family.

“I’m sorry…” I begin, turning so that I can excuse myself.

“Ace, he’s being an ass,” Sarah says, looking over my shoulder, still watching Max. “Why don’t you and I go home? Hank and Max can blow off some steam and can take a cab back to Max’s.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine! You stay and have fun! I want you to be able to visit with him.”

“Ace, I want to see you. Please let me go with you?”

“I know that you hardly ever get free time, and even less soon,” I protest, glancing at her still flat stomach. “If you want to stay, I promise my feelings won’t be hurt.”