Page 82 of The Bartender's Baby

“Rough day?”

I nodded.

Without a word, she came to me, wrapping her hand around my neck, tugging me down for a kiss. She smelled of rain and coffee and everything I loved most in the world. Then she took George from me, cradling him against her chest, whispering words that soothed him. Soothed me too.

She petted Lucy’s head, not at all fazed that I had her in the baby sling, and I swear to God, now that she was home, the thunderstorm stopped.

I breathed out an exhausted laugh, earning a wry smile, and took off the sling to put Lucy on the floor before hugging Tabitha from behind, my hands on her hips, my lips on her neck. “I love you.”

She hummed. Since the day in the hospital, she hadn’t said it again, and while I knew she loved me, I sort of loathed her reluctance to say the words out loud.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she suggested, and that sounded like such a good idea, I didn’t need to be told twice.

Lucy followed us, still recovering from her panicked state, and curled up in her bed, as I collapsed on our bed. Tabby crawled to the middle of the mattress and propped up pillows in position to feed George. I rolled to my side, my head in my hand, watching as she eased our baby to the crook of her elbow then tugged the collar of her loose T-shirt down, revealing her nursing bra. With a snap of her fingers, the material fell to reveal her swollen breast, her nipple already erect. The baby didn’t hesitate. He latched on, one arm slipping down to her side whilehe lifted his other, opening his tiny fingers to splay over her skin and grab at her necklace. The one she wore in honor of his sister who’d never made it earthside.

Tabby stared down at him with so much love and tenderness it made my chest ache. Every time. I loved to watch her feed our son. It was such an intimate and special experience for the two of them, it almost felt like an invasion of privacy for me to be here, yet I couldn’t ever force myself away.

I slid the tip of my finger over the delicate shell of George’s ear and down to his cheek, feeling the movement as he sucked. Then I trailed my fingers up to Tabby’s breast, dragging them back and forth across the top swell. It wasn’t a sexual caress, more admiration and appreciation for what she was doing.

Made me love her even more.

She shifted her gaze to me, half lidded and a little sleepy. Nursing always made her drowsy.

“How was your meeting?” I asked, moving my hand to her neck, brushing away strands of hair.

“Good. I’m on track for graduation. She wanted to make sure I’ll have enough time and support to finish my capstone project.”

I nodded. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

She bit into her lip a little shyly as she smiled, her eyes closed, head tipped back. “That’s what I told her. That I have a house husband at home.”

“House husband?” I scooted up to kiss her neck. “I like the sound of that.”

She hummed. “Me too.”

I’d make an honest woman out of her one of these days, but we had the next few months to get through. The bistro was slated to open in a few weeks, and then we had the holidays and Tabby’s graduation. It was a lot, but we’d be okay.

“Will you sing?” I whispered, and she barely opened her eyes to me.

“What song?”

“Anything.”

After a few moments, her chest rose on an inhale, and then she started singing a song that took me a few seconds to realize was Green Day’s “Last Night on Earth.”

I dropped my head to a pillow, nestled into Tabby’s side with my hand on George’s back, the three of us physically connected as she sang about love making it through a fire.

In no time at all, I fell asleep, only to wake up a little while later to find Tabby and George still sound asleep. His little body was completely lax, mouth open right next to Tabby’s nipple. Her head was tilted back on the pillow, eyes closed and breathing deep and even.

Smiling, I slowly slipped off the bed, careful not to disturb them, then snapped a picture on my phone. I had hundreds of these candids of Tabby and the baby. I supposed one day I’d clue her in. Until then, I hoarded them all to myself. Shuffling through them during quiet moments, from the first photo of Tabitha sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, her profile in view as she stared out at the window, her hand on the top of her belly, to this latest one.

Padding softly downstairs to the kitchen, I texted Collin. We had interviews scheduled for tomorrow to hire staff for the new restaurant. I wanted to confirm the time and go over the list of candidates one more time.

Collin responded right away, eager as always. We exchanged a few messages, hammering out the details, and by the time I tucked my phone away, we had a plan for tomorrow.

Riffling through the fridge and pantry, I gathered ingredients for dinner—salmon with asparagus and potatoes. I put on a sports podcast and got to work, not hearing Tabby until she was right next to me.

“Smells good.”

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