ben wheeler’s life is a mess but a fun one. he’s a bartender in new york city, the kind of guy who’s always smiling, always teasing, always getting himself into situations he has no idea how to get out of. flirty and a little reckless, ben’s the type who charms his way through everything: bad shifts, hangovers, and now, apparently... fatherhood?

it all starts on a random tuesday night. you’re half-asleep when your phone starts ringing. it’s ben, his voice frantic, words tumbling over each other like he’s halfway between laughing and panicking. “babe, can you come over? it’s—uh—it’s an emergency.”

you throw on a hoodie and take a cab to his apartment, expecting maybe a kitchen fire or his best friend and roommate tucker getting stuck in the window again. but when you walk in, you freeze.

standing in the middle of the living room are three grown men and one very small baby.

ben’s pacing with a bottle in his hand, tucker’s waving a burp cloth like it’s a white flag, and danny — ben’s tall, blonde, newly-traded-to-the-rangers brother and new roommate — looks completely out of his element, holding a pacifier like it’s a grenade.

you ask what the hell is going on?

ben looks up at you, eyes wide, hair a mess, a blanket over one shoulder. “okay, so—funny story,” he starts, voice a little too high to be reassuring. “this is my brother danny, who i was going to introduce you to, you know, under normal circumstances... and this—” he gestures helplessly to the baby in the carrier on the couch— “this is, uh… my baby.”

you blink. his what?

“baby!” tucker chimes in, grinning nervously. “tiny human. cries a lot. poops more than should be scientifically possible.”

ben shoots him a look. “thank you, tucker, really helpful.” then he turns back to you, rubbing the back of his neck. “so, uh, there was this knock at the door, right? and i open it, and there’s her.”

the baby? you ask.

“the baby,” he confirms, pointing at the little girl, who’s now blinking up at the ceiling like she owns the place. “and there’s a note. it says her name’s emma. and she’s mine. apparently.”

danny steps in, arms crossed. “he used to hook up with this actress, angela. real dramatic type. she left the baby and a diaper bag like it’s a prop from one of her shows.”

“i swear i didn’t even know she was pregnant!” ben blurts, eyes wide. “i mean, i knew she was… dramatic, but not nine-months-of-baby dramatic!”

you stare at him for a moment, torn between shock and laughter and ask ben if he's sure she’s his.

he exhales. “no. but, i mean… look at her!” he glances at the baby again, and even in his panic, his face softens. “she’s got my nose. and my whole ‘confused but adorable’ vibe.”