Page 57 of The Bartender's Baby

To annoy her, I made smooching sounds into the phone, and after she hung up, I unplugged my laptop from where I had itcharging and made myself at home in the living room to wait for Evie.

She arrived with a frozen drink from Wawa, nudging Lucy out of the way when she sat down next to me. “Come on, Luce, knock it off.” She held up her drink as my dog licked at her face. “Oof. Brush your teeth.”

I grabbed my dog and sniffed at her mouth. “Tabby said the same thing. I don’t think her breath smells extraordinarily bad. I give her those bones to clean her teeth.”

My sister shrugged, kicking her feet up on the ottoman as she sipped her drink. It was pink with whipped cream on top. “I don’t know. I guess it’s not bad. Justa lot.”

“Pregnancy give you superpowers or something?” I joked, setting Lucy on the floor. She immediately trudged over to Evie, waiting for something to drop from her drink.

“Actually, yeah. Now that you say that, my sense of smell has been stronger. I think that’s what’s been making me so nauseous.”

I hummed, considering that information, and it certainly made sense. Tabby hadn’t been able to stand the scent of meat earlier in her pregnancy. I nodded to her drink. “What’s that about?”

“Goes down easy,” she said, patting her still-flat stomach. My sister had been a dancer her whole life, and I suspected she might not display any outward signs of pregnancy for a while. Not like Tabby, who’d been growing rounder by the day since she’d first popped. Even her face was changing, the harsh lines of her jaw softening, her hips not as narrow, and while I didn’t think of her as a particularly vain person, I also didn’t think she’d enjoy me telling her how much I liked her like this, all plump and cute and complaining about her bras not fitting.

Shaking all thoughts of naked Tabby from my head, I texted Dylan as Evie talked about their wedding in June, worryingabout her dress and the baby bump she’d have by that point, as well as if she was going to keep it a secret until then.

Evie told me.

Dylan

Thanks man

“Mom’s not too good at keeping secrets,” I noted putting my phone down, and Gen flopped her head back to the cushion.

“I know. No wonder where you get it from.”

I lightly knocked her in the arm. “Hey. Icankeep a secret, if it’s worth it.” I motioned to her stomach. “Worth it.”

She grinned. I did too.

Then I slid my computer closer to us on the coffee table. “You ready?”

She tugged on her earring. “Might as well get it over with.”

I clicked on our mother’s contact to video call her, making sure Evie and I were both in the picture.

Mom worked from home as a medical coder, which always gave her lots of time to text and call us whenever she pleased. She picked up after a few rings, her brows high in surprise as she smiled, equal parts confused and happy. “What a surprise! My two children calling me together.” After a second, her face paled. “What’s wrong? Why are you both calling me? Are you sick? Who is sick? Why didn’t you take me to the appointment with you? I?—”

“Hi, Mom,” Evie muttered flatly.

“Everything’s good,” I said. “Stop spiraling. No one is sick.”

She leaned closer to her screen, inspecting us. Satisfied with whatever she saw, she backed away and smiled again. Evielooked a lot like her; both of them had dark brown hair, the same nose, and matching blue eyes, big and bright. Mine were like our father’s, more gray than blue.

“So, you’re just calling to say hi?” Mom clasped her hands, elated at the idea, and I hated to burst her bubble. We were not those types of kids. We didn’t have that kind of relationship with our parents, no matter how Mom tried.

And I did feel bad about that. Mom constantly tried, while Dad never did. But I was a grown man, and I didn’t need to call my mother simply to chat. We weren’t buddies.

“We both have some news,” I said, and I could see the wheels turning in Mom’s head as her eyes ping-ponged between us.

“Well?” she prompted impatiently, sitting forward.

Next to me, Evie took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant?” When my sister nodded, my mother proceeded to lose her shit, clapping and dancing and crying. “You know, I used to worry about you getting pregnant in high school, always with…” She rolled her hand in the air. “What was his name?”

“Brent,” Evie supplied, and I crossed my arms with a huff.

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