Page 25 of The Bartender's Baby

Dylan

when there hanging out with your kids

Jude

Think we should allow him in the club?

Fuck you.

What club?

Next day…

WHAT CLUB?

SEVEN

TABBY

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, rousing me from sleep. I stretched languidly, my muscles pleasantly warm. I hated to admit it, but Nate had been right. I did need to rest. That night at Walt’s two weeks ago had crippled me. As much as I’d like to say it didn’t hurt to sit across from a man I’d had a relationship with, it did. No, it hadn’t been love, but it had beensomething. At the very least, I should have been respected.

But he couldn’t even give me that. So, I took the days off that Nate had offered me and focused on school and making plans. I’d returned to work this week refreshed and with anewplan.

One that didn’t rely on anyone else. I was the one to decide to have this baby, so I needed to put all my energy into building the best life I possibly could for us. First step, purchasing a car. I couldn’t depend on Nate to pick me up and drop me off every night like he’d been doing this past week. But I had to admit, it was nice not having to worry about transportation, especially as my energy levels seemed to fluctuate with the changing weeks of this pregnancy.

And sure, Nate’s charming yet irritating tendencies didn’t hurt. I’d been looking after myself for so long, it was nice to have someone else do it.

Plus, the baby apparently liked it too. I’d felt it move a few days ago, while I’d been working. I’d frozen mid-pour, the beer spilling over the glass, and Juanita sent me back to the office. Of course, Nate was there, mother-henning me until I told him I’d felt it. Then he stared at my torso for a good minute. Our work T-shirts were unisex and loose, and I’d always found ways to make them more formfitting, but ever since I’d found out I was pregnant, I’d been wearing them baggy, hanging over the waistband of my pants.

I’d snapped my fingers in his face to bring him back to earth, and then he had handed me a sleeve of Oreos he’d been keeping in one of the desk drawers, cleared out of anything except snacks for me. He’d even labeled the drawer.For Tabitha. Any other hands in here will be cut off.

So, the two of us had stood there in the office while I nibbled on the cookies, waiting, and when the baby moved again, I’d let Nate place his hand on the side of my stomach to feel it. He’d gotten that faraway stare again, but I hadn’t minded. I’d understood.

Ever since, the baby seemed to know when he was around, poking me as if it wanted attention. Not much different from Nate.

As long as I’d known him, he’d always been against having kids of his own, yet he had been pouring himself into this kid’s life. It didn’t make sense to me, but I appreciated it anyway. He wasn’t only my boss; he was my friend. He had my back.

Standing up in front of the mirror, I smoothed my hands over my bump. It had popped overnight. Not very big, but noticeablythere. I wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

And a wave of awe and trepidation crushed me. Happy to have been given another opportunity like this but afraid I would suffer the same loss as my first pregnancy. Although, before I could get too into my feelings, a knock sounded on my bedroom door.

Ming-Yue stood on the other side, coffee cup in hand, glasses in place, appearing to be headed off to the lab. “Some guy’s here.”

That guy was Nate, and he was way early.

When we’d talked about my car situation last night, I’d told him I was going to purchase one today, and he’d somehow weaseled his way into the task. “How’re you gonna get there without me?” he’d asked, and then, “Don’t you want a second opinion to make sure you’re not buying a lemon?”

I hadn’t been able to argue. While I’d had my driver’s license since sixteen and my motorcycle license since twenty, I had never owned my own car. To say nothing of purchasing one. Even with all the research I’d done over the last few weeks, it would be nice to have someone there with me, so I’d agreed.

But now, he was here, and I was in my pajamas.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I told Ming-Yue.

“I have to go, but can he stay here alone with you? He’s not going murder you, is he?”

“I heard that!” he hollered from downstairs. These walls were paper-thin. “And shecouldmurdermeif she really wanted.”

“It’s true,” I said, to which Ming-Yue shrugged.

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