"Chris? The Chris? 'Best-night-of-my-life' Chris???"

You huffed agitatedly at her questions. Yes, you were talking about that Chris. The hot guy you'd picked up at the bar all those years ago, when you were young and wild and went where the wind took you. Or the alcohol. Either way, your past came back to bite you in the butt.

You'd never ordered anything like a DNA test to find out who Benjamin's dad was. You knew. He had the same dimples, the same big nose, even the same crescent-eyed smile. You had tried to call his number when you found out, but it was out of service. Still, you didn't blame him. Neither of you had expected it, considering you both had thought you'd done it safely. But now he was back in town, still driving his precious 1984 Ford F-150. Rumor had it, his baby sister was graduating. You didn't even know he had a sister, let alone one that lived in town.

"Yes! He just pulled into my driveway! What am I supposed to do?" You, exasperated.

"Are you serious?? Let him in! Should I come pick up Ben so you two can be alone?"

You huffed again and hung up the phone. You weren't the same impulsive 22-year-old that Chris had met all those years ago. You couldn't be. You had Benjamin.

The doorbell rang. Three times, in quick succession.