Page 17 of The Bartender's Baby

“Did you pack food?” When I stayed quiet, he huffed a disappointed sound. But this was my body and my baby, and I didn’t need him looking over my shoulder to make sure I was taking my vitamins or whatever. I didn’t even know why he was so interested.

Then again, he had an ear for listening and a penchant for problem-solving. A meddlesome mother hen stuck inside the body of a CrossFit meathead.

“Listen, I never had a big appetite before, okay? I usually eat one bigger meal per day and then graze.”

“Yeah.” He threw his hand up. “Exactly. You should’ve brought snacks to graze on.”

“Stop micromanaging me.”

“Stop being so stubborn, and maybe I will.”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” I grumbled and flicked the volume back up to drown out any more of his bothersome questions. That were only a little bit sweet. Like, the tiniest. Mostly annoying.

The drive to Walt’s was about ten minutes, and he parked in the back. I set my things in the office and relieved Mickey. For a Friday at the beginning of February, the crowd wasn’t too bad. The closer to Valentine’s Day, the more people tended to brave the cold weather, and I noticed Nate’s sister, Genevieve, in a corner booth with her fiancé and one of Nate’s best friends, Dylan. The guy washot. Also, completely and utterly smitten.

Gen waved when she spotted me, offering me one of her bright smiles, her blue eyes shining even in the dim light of the bar. She and her brother were similar in that way, both of them full of sunshine like they were born into a children’s cartoon. She was one of the few people whom I would call a friend. Even though we didn’t hang out, I had her number in my phone, and I always responded whenever she texted me a photo or link to something she thought reminded her of me. Endearing, really. These two siblings.

Nate clapped me on the shoulder as he checked in with me, once again reminding me to drink from my water bottle, before sitting with Gen and Dylan. I served up drinks, opened and closed tabs, emptied the dishwasher and refilled it, all whilekeeping an eye on that corner booth, sometimes curious as to what story Nate told with his hands moving all over, earning giggles from his sister and smirks from Dylan.

I’d been so preoccupied, I didn’t hear someone calling my name until he stood right in front of me.

“Tabby. You avoiding me or what?”

I blinked up to Harrison, frozen in place. Because, yes, I had been avoiding him.

We’d been texting on and off the last few weeks, as per usual. Our pattern had always been the same. On through the spring and summer, off before the big holidays hit. Which was okay for me. I could do my annual hiding away. I didn’t like making them into a big deal, not when I didn’t have anyone to spend them with.

Though, hopefully, I would soon.

I instinctively placed one hand on my belly. “Hi. How—hi.”

“Hey, beautiful.” Harrison smiled easily, his nice-guy dimples carving both of his cheeks, his blond hair styled to messy perfection. He had a Zack Morris thing about him. Comforting in that I always knew what to expect.

Which was why I’d been avoiding him. I knew what he would say when I told him I was pregnant, and if I were honest with myself, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

I wanted a family. A whole family. I always had. And no matter how I’d planned for it, I hadn’t been ready to face the inevitable yet.

But I guess the time had come.

“How are you doing?” he asked, and I swallowed hard.

“Good. You want a drink? I’d like to talk to you, but it’ll be a bit before I can take a break.”

“Yeah. Do you have that porter I like?”

“From Deschutes? Yeah.” I tapped him his beer on the house, and he pointed to an open two-top in front of the windows.

I worked for a few more minutes, formulating how I’d give him the news, until Nate sidled up next to me. “What’s Howard doing here?”

I didn’t even bother correcting him. “Came to see me.”

Nate held on to my wrist, stopping me from passing him to get to a customer, and assessed me with his steady gaze. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You don’t look okay.”

If I weren’t so tied up in knots, maybe I’d cry at his observation. But it was all I could do to keep myself together for what was about to happen. “Can I go talk to him for a few minutes?”

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