“Tell that to that girl carrying your baby, Maximo. The one who’s been sobbing by your bedside for the past six hours.” “It’s not my fucking baby,” I protest. “You need to get back to Kat so she can take a look at you,” Lorenzo insists, wrapping an arm around my waist. “I need to speak to my fucking girl.” I try to shrug him off again, but I don’t have the strength this time. She rolls her eyes. “There is nothing you can say—” “Kristin is my little sister, Joey. That kid she’s having is my nephew, not my son.” “What?” Joey frowns and shakes her head. “You don’t even have a sister.” “I fucking
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