Page 36 of Love and Other Lost Things

“You too, Nik.” And then she turned and walked away.

FIFTEEN

TEN YEARS AGO

“Goddamn it, Kelly.”

Jane flinched as Matteo’s voice carried across the club. She looked up to find Kelly, a barback not much older than she was, crouching over a broken bottle that had slipped out of her hands and shattered on the floor. Kelly bowed her head, slowly picking up the pieces and dropping them into a dustpan.

Matteo stood over her, his arms crossed, face red. “What were you thinking? That shit is expensive.” He let out another string of expletives. When he noticed Yolanda watching from behind the counter, he narrowed his eyes. “What are you looking at?”

Jane turned away and went back to wiping the tables before Matteo could notice her watching, too. She was slowly beginning to realize that Matteo’s flash of anger on the day she’d met him a couple months earlier hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. His temper tended to flare at the nightclub staff when they screwed something up, especially if that screw-up cost the bar money. Usually, it ignited quickly and then burned out before much harm was done. And once he’d calmed down, he’d always apologize. Well, except for that time he’d discovered one of the staff was stealing from him.

Jane shuddered at the memory of the blood spurting from the bartender’s nose, but then she shoved it out of her head. It wasn’t like Matteo had ever been violent or turned his temper on her. He’d snapped at her a few times upstairs in the apartment, but those were just normal arguments that all couples had. And he’d certainly never gotten physical. If she’d seen even a hint of violence from him, she would have been long gone.

It had been just a few months since Jane had started working at the club, and she and Matteo had been together for as long. She’d pretty much gone upstairs with him on that first night and then never left. When she took the job, she’d hoped to be able to move into her own place eventually, but it turned out that VIPs didn’t always tip as well as that first table. Plus, she hadn’t known then that she’d be expected to give a cut to the bar staff.

Matteo seemed happy to have her stay with him, and it was better than going back to that motel. Anything was better than that horrible motel. Matteo was nice to her—except for those arguments. But that was normal couple stuff. His place was comfortable, and she even enjoyed sleeping with him, though she would have preferred it if he used a condom. But he always pulled out, and he’d told her to get on the pill. She planned to, just as soon as she had a day off and could figure out the complicated bus system to get to the nearest Planned Parenthood.

Jane didn’t fool herself into thinking she loved Matteo, or that she’d ever love him. But she felt comfortable with Matteo and lucky about how things had turned out. She shuddered every time she remembered pulling food from the trash can, every time she walked past the people sleeping in bus shelters. It could have gone so badly for her.

Jane was proud of how she was making it on her own, and grateful to be as far away from her dad as possible. She had her guitar—the gift from Matteo—and had been practicing as much as possible. Matteo had promised that, soon, he’d talk to his friends about having her play in their bars, and she wanted to have a set list ready.

So, if her life wasn’t perfect, it was good enough.

Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep at night, memories of Nik would drift in, and her heart would ache for him. When Matteo was in one of his moods, she’d fantasize that maybe she and Nik could be together again, someday. But he’d be in college for a long time, and four years felt like an eternity. Who knew what could happen? Maybe he’d meet someone. Or maybe he wouldn’t want her anymore. So, lately when those thoughts of Nik drifted in, Jane had started digging her nails into her palm to stop them. That part of her life was over, at least for the foreseeable future, and the pain in her hand was nothing compared to the pain of knowing what could have been.

Jane pushed those thoughts out of her head now, focusing on a sticky spot on one of the bar tables. She sprayed an extra squirt of cleaner and scrubbed at it with a rag. The astringent lemon scent wafted up, and suddenly Jane’s stomach lurched. She dropped the bottle on the table and made a run for the bathroom.

Jane had just finished emptying the contents of her stomach in one of the ladies’ room toilets when she heard a voice on the other side of the stall: “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

She exited the small space to find Yolanda leaning against the sink with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I think I must have caught a stomach bug a couple of weeks ago.” Jane grabbed a handful of paper towels to wipe her mouth. “I just can’t seem to kick it.”

Yolanda’s painted-on eyebrow rose. “Sorry, honey. But I don’t think that’s a stomach bug you’ve got in there.”

Jane leaned over the sink to splash water on her face. “You think I have food poisoning?”

Yolanda snorted. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“What do you mean?” Jane stood and reached for another paper towel.

Yolanda ripped it off and handed it to her. “You’ve been looking green for weeks. I have two babies and I’ve seen this a dozen times with my girlfriends.”

Jane pressed the paper towel to her face, and then froze as Yolanda’s words sank in. “Wait. Are you saying?—”

“You’re pregnant.”

“No.” Jane finished drying her face. “No, I can’t be.”

“You’re sure about that?” Yolanda cocked her head. “Are you on the pill?”

“No.” Jane turned away from Yolanda under the pretense of tossing the paper towel in the trash, but really it was so the other woman wouldn’t see her reeling. “I was going to make an appointment.”

Yolanda huffed. “Well, does he use condoms?”

Jane’s nausea came back in a wave. “He pulls out,” she blurted. I can’t be pregnant. Can I?

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