Page 21 of The Bartender's Baby

The four of us were a tight fit, but I sat Tabby down in the chair, and Genevieve hopped up on the desk. She had worked here for a few months while recovering from a dance injury before hitting the stage again, and I’d enjoyed having her home and working with me. I was glad she’d decided to come back and settle down with Dylan. Sure, I gave them a lot of shit, but I couldn’t be happier for them.

“So, is anyone going to explain what happened?” she asked, and I glanced at Dylan. When I’d told my friends not to tell their girls about my meltdown a few weeks ago, I had fully expectedthem to anyway. From my sister’s confusion, I guessed they hadn’t.

Dylan shrugged at me and leaned back against the wall, staying silent, as usual.

I looked to Tabitha for direction, what she wanted to do or say about this. I tried to imply with my eyes that I’d follow her lead.

She breathed deeply and set her shoulders before letting it out. “I’m pregnant.”

Evie’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god! Are you okay? How are you feeling? How far along are you? Wait—” She threw up her hands, connecting the dots. “Wait, that was Harrison, wasn’t it? Is he the father?”

Tabby nodded. “I wouldn’t use the term father to describe him after tonight.”

I grumbled. “I should’ve fucked him up more.”

Dylan cut in then. “You did some pretty good damage.”

Evie wagged her finger at me. “Did you know?”

“Did I know what? That she’s pregnant? Yes.”

“I told him last month. But I only told Harrison tonight,” Tabby said, and my sister’s eyes went wide, if not a little giddy. Whatever idea she had in her head, I didn’t like it, and I motioned to Dylan to control her. He rolled his eyes.

“I take it Harrison is out of the picture?” she deduced, not waiting on an answer because it was obvious. “And my big brother defended your honor?”

Tabby refused to meet my gaze. Though, she did nod.

And, fuck yes, I did.

I would defend her honor again and again and again.

I could see the wheels in my sister’s head turning, so I collected Tabitha’s things from the hook and handed them to her. “I want you to go home.”

“What? No. I still?—”

Ignoring her protests, I told Dylan, “She needs a ride.”

Tabby stood up, her fists at her sides. “You can’t send me home.”

“Last I checked, I was still in charge here, so yeah, I can send you home.” Over her head, Dylan and I nodded at each other. And when she still refused to move, I placed her coat around her shoulders and slipped my beanie over her head. Then I looped her bag over her shoulder and pushed her water bottle into her hands. Like a little grumpy Barbie.

“And I’m taking you off the schedule for the next week.”

She roared. “What?”

“You need to rest, and I want to see what Bran is made of.”

“You—”

“Are so thankful, I know.” I grinned, my hands on her shoulders, and spun her around to face the door. “Have a good night.”

She still tried to argue with me even as Dylan herded her over the threshold. My sister threw herself at me, snaking her arms around my neck, squeezing me tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“For what?” I accepted the hug, still hearing Tabitha’s dissertation on why she needed to stay here. She had loyalty, that was for sure. When her voice faded, I imagined Dylan bodily picking her up and putting her in his car. He was gallant like that.

“For being you.” She slapped my back a few times then stepped away. “For standing up for Tabby. For stepping up for her. That takes a lot of bravery.”

“I’m not…” I tugged at my hair, reading between the lines. “I haven’t done anything.”

---