Page 3 of The Bartender's Baby

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but how can you? Isn’t it, like, against the law or something for you to work in a bar while you’re pregnant?”

“No.”

I looked down at her still-flat stomach. “What about your school? Didn’t your semester just start?”

She rolled her eyes, shoving me out of the way. “Be a good boy and get back to your work, so that I can get back to mine.”

Fat fucking chance of that happening. Now that Tabitha—my Tabby—was pregnant, I wouldn’t be able to work another minute.

Not until I knew she was taken care of.

I followed her through the small kitchen, where Sydney fiddled with the knobs on the stove, readying for the day. Out in the bar area, another one of our bartenders, Mickey, appeared to be finishing up their station.

Tabitha had come in early to do inventory. Sunday mornings were the time when both of us prepared for the upcoming week. I completed reports and paperwork, while Tabby made orders of anything we needed. She also handled all the training of staff,and I hired and fired based on her recommendations. Hell, I didn’t make any changes without running it by her first.

I trusted her implicitly with my bar—my baby.

And now, she was having a real-life human baby, and everything felt upside down.

I glared at her as she unlocked the front door, ignoring me. She didn’t need me breathing down her back, but what the hell else was I supposed to do? My most important employee was pregnant.

I knew I’d lose her eventually since she had been slowly working toward her degree for the past few years, but I didn’t think I’d lose her to someone else. A crying, wailing someone else.

A crying, wailing someone else spawned by a man who wore wrinkled khakis and had once brought a carnation into the bar for her. A goddamn carnation!

A fucking toolbag she’d once described to me as nice.

Nice.

Ha.

Tabitha didn’t need nice.

She needed extraordinary. Because she was extraordinary, and I hadn’t even been graced with the opportunity to see all of her puzzle pieces. I had the outline completed, most of the inside put together, but some of those unusual shapes hadn’t quite fit yet.

And it pissed me off that I’d lost the chance to find how the edges connected. With a growl, I marched back into the office for my coat, keys, and water bottle then tapped out a message to my friends to find out where they were. Once a month, they all got together at this terrifying jungle-gym-type place so their kids could play, and when they confirmed that they were indeed there, I told them I was on my way.

I stomped back out to the bar, where our Sunday regulars lounged. I barely acknowledged their greetings, too intent on the unsmiling woman behind the bar who’d turned me inside out with only a few words. I slapped my water bottle on the bar top in front of her. “Drink this, and you’re done at five.”

“What? I?—”

“I’m calling Juanita to cover for you. She needs the hours anyway.” We closed early, at ten, on Sunday nights, and Tabitha usually worked twelve hours. She wouldn’t be today.

Or any other day, in fact.

Winter was a slow time of year, especially January. Coming off the holidays, everyone tended to hunker down, and I wasn’t about to have my all-star on her feet when she didn’t need to be. She’d fight me tooth and nail.

Before she could bitch at me about it, I aimed my index finger at her. “If you’re still here when I come back, so help me God, I’ll hold your paycheck.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I will if you make me.” Then I whirled around, Imagination Station and Play Center my destination.

I pulled into the lot about fifteen minutes later, parking haphazardly and tumbling out of my car like my legs didn’t work anymore. Flinging open the door, I spotted my friends immediately. The three of them huddled in their usual spot, on a bench along the wall, in front of what was supposed to be a fake doctor’s office. I charged at them. “Tabby’s pregnant.”

Jude, who I’d known since high school, squinted at me. “Are you drunk right now?”

“No, man. I’m completely sober, but I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

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