Page 37 of Don't You Want Me, Baby?

‘I did. In my mouth.’ He grabbed at the bottle of water on her kitchen counter. ‘Kinda regretting my suggestion to work on a drinks menu right now. We should have gone bowling or something instead.’ His lips quirked up. ‘Save my pride at least, and probably my liver.’

‘That bad, huh?’ She sniffed at her own glass. To be fair, it did smell rank. She could practically feel her nose hairs singeing.

After draining half the water bottle, he sagged against the counter. ‘Even the vomit didn’t improve the taste. You can’t serve that.’

‘Come on! It can’t be that bad.’ She lifted the cocktail to her lips,but Tyler reached across and pinched the straw shut between his fingertips.

‘Don’t. That shit will take the lining of your stomach and, if you’re going to be a mother, you’re going to need it.’

She eyed him for a moment over the glass and threw the drink down the sink. It was the first time he’d mentioned anything to do with her motherhood plan since their blow up. It made her feel funny, warm inside. Like he might just accept this. Heck, that it might actually be a reality some point soon. Tonight, here in her little place with Tyler, making cocktails – it was the most fun she’d had in a while. His effortless smile when he’d turned up earlier in his usual flannel shirt and jeans looking like some kind of stocky Yorkshire cowboy, she could see he was lighter too. It was as if something had sparked within him, too. She’d miss him being so close to her. When she thought of serving his menu at the Arms, without him behind the stove in the back, it didn’t feel as exciting somehow. Still shiny, but duller somehow. Perhaps she should have told him not to look for that job after all. She pulled herself out of the feeling of dread that washed over her, back to the night she was enjoying.

‘Fair enough. Nice to see that you’re coming around to the whole baby thing.’

He finished the bottle, still rubbing at his chest. ‘Good Gordon Ramsay, it burns. And I wouldn’t say that.’ He said it in a grumpy huff, but the heat from before wasn’t present. It gave her hope.

‘Oh, give over, you know it will be cool.’

He rolled his eyes, still rubbing his chest. ‘Cool is not how I would describe it. Surprising, definitely. Difficult, maybe. It’s not what you think it will be, you know. It will be harder.’

Amber rinsed out the jug, throwing the rest of her death cocktail concoction away down the drain and reaching for fresh ingredients. ‘Wow, Uncle Tyler is going to be a real bummer.’

‘Uncle, yeah.’ He threw the empty bottle into the recycling bin a little harder than was necessary. The gruff lumberjack was waking up. ‘Well, I guess that’s better than nothing. I never did tell you why I don’t want kids, did I?’

Amber ignored him in favour of chopping fresh watermelon into small chunks.

‘Nothing to say? Not curious?’

‘No, not everyone wants a family. I get it. Do you think almond milk would work? We could do some milkshake-type cocktails maybe?’

‘Almond milk, sure. Nice way to change the subject.’

‘Yeah, well – this is what I want to focus on.’

‘Fine.’ He shrugged, but she could tell he wanted to say more. ‘We can do that.’

They both reached for the fridge door at the same time.

‘Sorry,’ they said together.

Tyler’s brow knitted tight. ‘I am sorry, actually. I didn’t mean to be snarky.’

‘Again.’

‘Eh?’

‘Snarky again.’ She opened the fridge, passing him another bottle of water and reaching for the carton of almond milk. ‘You’ve been like this since you found out.’

‘I know. I have my reasons. Which you don’t want to talk about.’

‘So, I don’t want to talk about it tonight.’ She flashed him a bright smile she didn’t feel. ‘It hurts when you act like this, Ty.’

His lips pressed together, but he didn’t speak.

‘I thought we were past this. You’re my friend. My biggest supporter, as it goes. Since I have no family. You are my family, you and Shazza; our regulars are all like my friends, but you are family. Both of you. Sharon hasn’t given me half as much stick. She’s the one who always said she’d rather stick pins in her eyes than be asingle parent, but she’s been pretty laidback about it. In fact, she was more bothered about the fact I might have given in to Bradley than becoming a mail-order mum.’

‘She told me.’

‘She did?’

---