Page 13 of The Bartender's Baby

“I told you I’d just turned nineteen and that I had a lot of references. I had experience working in restaurants.”

I snapped my fingers, remembering now. “And I said you could come back later so we could talk because you had on a Green Day shirt, and that meant you had good taste.”

She nodded. “That shirt belonged to my husband.”

I jerked my head back and then shook it. I must have heard her wrong. “What? Yourhusband?”

She lost the humor in her features, her mouth smoothing back into its typical line, her dark eyes no longer glittering.

“I got married right out of high school, and no, I’m not gonna talk about that, but…” She crossed her legs and arms, as if she could keep out my concern. Or maybe hold in her emotions.

Probably both.

After a deep breath that made her shoulders rise and fall, she went on. “I was pregnant and so happy. We were both really…” She sniffed, eyes unfocused somewhere behind me. “I had an appointment for the ultrasound to find out if it was a boy or a girl.”

She paused again, and I dropped my chin to my chest. I didn’t need her to go on, but I thoughtsheneeded to.

“There was some movement, gentle kicks and pushes, but I didn’t think anything of it when I hadn’t felt them for a few days. Until I went in to the office. There was no heartbeat.”

I closed my eyes, the weight of her grief landing like a physical blow on me.

Her next words were remarkably calm, detached almost. “There was a knot in the umbilical cord. It’s rare, happens in fewer than one percent of pregnancies.”

I lifted my head to find her staring down at her hands, her fingers entwined, knuckles white. I wrapped my hands around hers, rubbing them, hoping to loosen their grip, and when she did, I placed her palms flat against each other, her fingers long and trapped between mine so she wouldn’t bind them together again. I brought her hands up, kissed the very tips of her fingers, uncaring about giving myself away when she needed comfort.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m so sorry you had to experience it.”

She brought her eyes to mine, and I could see straight through to her soul. This one tragedy did not define her, but it did help to form the woman in front of me. This incredibly strong and resilient woman who didn’t take any shit and never asked for any help, yet never failed to show up. Never let anyone or anything keep her down.

I admired her, but I doubted she’d want to hear that. “Thank you for telling me, and you don’t have to go through any of this alone. Whatever you want or need, you can have. I’ll make sure of it.”

She nodded, and I figured that was the best I’d get, so I stood up, towing her with me to hug her to my chest, my arms around her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled against my pec.

“Shh.” I petted the back of her head. “Let it happen.”

She laughed, a short, breathy sound, and eventually wrapped her arms around my torso, skimming her hands along either side of my spine to settle in the middle of my back, her fingers fisting the material of my T-shirt. I held her tighter, hoping shedidn’t hear my heart hammering in my chest when she laid her ear against it.

“Give me a minute to lock up, and I’ll walk you out,” I told her once we finally released each other. She didn’t argue or put up a fight about how she didn’t need me to do that, and instead, she scrolled on her phone.

I locked the front door and met her at the back, happening to peek over her shoulder to see a rideshare app open. “What are you doing?”

“Getting a ride.”

“No.”

She whipped her head to me, but I covered her mouth with my hand before she could get one word out.

“You think I’m gonna let you get in a car with a stranger? Especially after you told me about your past and when I know you’re not in the right frame of mind? And why are you taking a car in the first place?”

She couldn’t answer with my palm over her mouth and rolled her eyes.

“You can’t ride your bike anymore, huh?”

She mumbled something, but I only dropped my hand after I stole her cell phone to cancel the ride with a stab of my thumb.

“I’m selling my bike so I can buy a car,” she told me.

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