Page 35 of The Bartender's Baby

Her eyebrows rose into severe arches. “So you had wet dreams about your stepmom?”

“Basically,” I admitted, earning an amused snort. “Makes family dinners real awkward.”

“But you talk to your mom a lot,” she noted, accidentally giving herself away. She knew more about me than she probably wanted to concede.

“Yeah, but only because I don’t really know how to say no to her. My sister used her job as an excuse to avoid everybody, but I don’t have that same willpower. I mean… It’s my mom.”

Tabby studied me, her head ticked to the side. “You’re a mama’s boy, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say no to her wanting to take care of me. She can be a little overbearing, but…” I shrugged.

“So, that’s where you get it from.”

“Get what from?”

“You being so overbearing.”

“I’m not overbearing. I’m…protective.”

“You’re more than protective. You’re—” She wagged her fork at me, a bit of chicken on it, so I caught her wrist and shoved the bite into my mouth. “Hey!”

It was a perfect bite, of chicken, cheese, and sauce, and as I swallowed it down, I took the fork from her to scoop up another perfect bite. Holding it out to her, I said, “I might be overprotective and occasionally overbearing, but I don’t know how else to be. I’m not close to very many people.”

“You have a lot of friends.”

I moved the food up to her mouth, urging her to take the bite. She closed her lips around the tines, her fingers on my wrist, as she ate it. I watched her lips purse, her throat swallow, and hertongue glide along the corner of her mouth to lick away the dot of sauce there, stealing away my opportunity to do it.

“I have a lot of friends, but not a lot of people I trust,” I explained. “I only really care about a handful of people, and I would do whatever I had to if they were hurting or needed something. Because when they hurt, I hurt. When they’re happy, I’m happy.”

She didn’t need me to tell her she was one of those people. She had to know it already. She had to feel it. Because she offered me a slight nod, her eyes going watery again.

So, I went for it. “I want you to move in with me.”

But her answer was immediate. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Not a reason.”

She flapped her hand around, appearing to struggle to name one. “Because you don’t need to fix this for me. This is my life, and I’m not going to intrude on yours when I know you don’t even want kids.”

I stopped her there. “Things change. Wants change. People change.”

“So, how do you know what I want? How do I know what you want?”

I set my elbows on the table, heaving a sigh. This was bullshit. Because she knew.Iknewsheknew everything. She just didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to trust me.

“Besides,” she went on, “my life has nothing to do with yours.”

And, yep. She wanted to poke the bear? She’d get the bear.

“Please, Tabitha. We’ve known each other for a decade. I knew you before you were even able to buy a drink legally. I hired you when you still had light brown hair and sad eyes. I watched you level a frat guy when he got handsy with a girl andthen go right back to slinging beers without breaking a sweat, and I promoted you to my manager the next day. I know you study on your breaks for a degree you’ve been working on for years. I know what you look like when you don’t want to talk about something you love, and I let it go because I know you’ll eventually tell me one day, and I know that you’ve been dealing with this life-changing thing for months on your own.AndI think it’s about goddamn time you start accepting some help from people because your life has everything to do with me, you understand? I don’t want to see you hurt or, god forbid, something worse happen. I wouldn’t be anywhere without you, so don’t give me any of your bullshit. Now, please say yes to me with a smile on your face before I lose it.”

She sat across from me, no smile to be found. “I’d say you already lost it.”

Yeah. Yeah, I had.

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