Page 23 of Found By You

Duke: Looks good. How was your peanut butter?

Me: We loved it. I even ditched the spoon and used a few chips as scoops.

Duke: That actually sounds pretty good.

Me: How’s the birthday dinner going?

Duke: Fine.

Me: Sounds riveting.

Duke: Just more bullshit.

I fight the urge to ask him to elaborate when a thought comes to mind…

Me: How much do you think I could get if I decided to sell my car?

Duke: Not much with the problems it has unless you plan on trading it in. Why? You thinking about ditching it?

Me: Maybe. Just trying to weigh out my options.

Duke: That might be your best bet.

Duke: Like I said before, I’ll do my best to get you up and running, but there’s gonna be a wait.

Truthfully, I didn’t believe him before. Now, after a few Google searches later, my unlucky streak has yet to break.

Duke: So, you thinking of buying a new car then?

Me: Sorry to bother you with this. You probably want to be focusing on dinner with your family rather than texting me about car stuff.

Duke: I’d rather be texting you about anything than be a part of whatever conversations are going on around me.

Me: I don’t want to be the reason you get in trouble again.

Duke: She is kind of glaring at me…

Me: Better put the phone down before you don’t have any thumbs.

Duke: Fine, but if I send an S.O.S. in the next hour, I expect you to call me acting like something horrible has happened and you need me to come to your aid straight away.

Me: That bad?

Duke: Yes. Can I count on you?

Me: Always.

I eat half my dinner before I decide to take a hot shower. I keep my hair tied up in case I decide to go to this ‘Tavern Nine’ Duke invited me to.

When I looked it up online earlier, it seemed like a popular spot. A lot of five-star reviews mentioning this ‘Saturday band night.’ Everyone in the pictures appear like they’re hunting for a date—all done up and dancing.

He did say it was country night, and I do have something I could wear that wouldn’t look horrible. But a pregnant chick going to a crowded bar only to drink non-alcoholic beverages and start yawning by nine? I don’t know…

Granted I’m not necessarily showing quite yet, and I know over the next few weeks, I’ll start to show. This might be my last chance to go out without getting strange looks.

Crap. It’s after 8:00 PM though, and I haven’t heard anything from Duke after our text conversation. The bar isn’t too far—walking distance, in fact. I could make it there in fifteen or twenty minutes. I peek out the curtains. It’s a clear December night, no wind, and just under freezing. A stark contrast to last night’s storm.

“Screw it,” I whisper, glancing down to my belly. “Let’s go party hardy, baby.”

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