Page 55 of All We Could Still Have

“Don’t point,” I whispered, pushing Dana’s hand down.

Casey straightened to her full height. Dressed in loose-fitting black pants and a baggy blue shirt, she looked as innocent as she had when she visited the office with Elizabeth’s kids.

“She really is young,” Dana said, marching across the almost empty room toward Casey.

Paralyzed with fear, I stayed rooted to the spot where I’d entered. Coming here had been a bad idea, especially with Dana. Was she going to make a scene? Confront Casey? A framed poster of the Bruins’ mascot hung on the wall next to me. Seeing it made me shiver. That damn bear looked vicious, like he was getting ready to pounce on me—again.

Dana plopped herself down at the table closest to the stage and motioned for me to join her. I didn’t want to sit so close to Casey, but then again, this was why we’d come: to get to know her, to find out if there was anyone else she was sleeping with. There had to be. Slowly I made my way toward Dana, who watched Casey’s every move. Luckily Casey had her back to my sister and didn’t notice. I chose the chair kitty corner to the stage so that Casey would only be able to see my profile when she turned around.

“Not at all what I was expecting,” Dana said.

“Shh.” I hushed Dana and stole a glance at Casey to make sure she didn’t hear Dana. Casey still had her back to us as she fiddled with a speaker.

“Like she would know what I’m talking about?” Dana said. “Chill.”

“What were you expecting?”

Dana’s eyes met mine. “A younger version of you, I guess.”

My stomach twisted, and I blinked back tears. Before IVF and Dr.Evans telling me that newborns were usually adopted by younger couples, I’d never considered myself old. Clearly Casey was a lot younger—young enough to get pregnant without any medical help.

The waiter, a muscular White guy with dreadlocks and a do-rag, bopped over to take our drink order.

Dana smiled, a wicked grin. “Redheaded Sluts for both of us.” She caught my eye and tilted her head toward Casey, who was tuning her guitar.

I assumed Dana had made up that name and felt my face heating up at the veiled reference to Casey. I waited for the server to ask what the drink was. Instead he pumped his fist. “You ladies are out to have a good time tonight. That’s what I like to see.”

“It’s a real drink?” I asked Dana after he left.

“A shot with peach schnapps, Jägermeister, and cranberry juice,” she explained. “A perfect choice for our mission tonight.”

“What is our mission tonight?”

“We’re just going to keep an eye on her. See if there’s any guy here who could be her boyfriend.”

Sweat dripped down my back. “Please don’t make a scene.” Dana was so unpredictable. How had I let her talk me into coming here? “We should leave.”

“You can call an Uber. I’m staying.”

The waiter returned with our drinks. Dana ordered potato skins. “To the redheaded slut,” she said. “May she be sleeping with many men.” She clanked her glass against mine and laughed.

Cringing, I sneaked a look at the stage, but Casey was no longer there. Dana downed her shot in one swallow while I sipped mine.

“Haven’t you ever done a shot before?” she asked.

“Not recently.”

“Let’s go. Toss it back.”

I ignored her and continued to sip. “You’re embarrassing me,” she said.

When our potato skins arrived, Dana ordered another round of drinks, even though I still hadn’t finished my first. By the time the waiter returned, the pub had filled up, and only a few tables remained empty.

Casey settled in behind the microphone. “I’m Casey Flanagan,” she said. “Thank y’all for coming out to see me.” She spoke with a drawl shehadn’t had when I met her in the office a few weeks ago. This comforted me because the fact that she could be deceitful about an accent made me think she would have no trouble lying about who the father of her baby was.

She began her set with “Vice,” a Miranda Lambert song. As I watched her, I tried to imagine what had happened the night Kyle met her. Had he approached her, or had she come on to him? On stage, she seamlessly moved from one song to the next, covering Kacey Musgraves, Sara Evans, and Carly Pearce. As she sang, she gyrated her hips, arched her back, and ran a hand across her chest. I decided she’d initiated things, and I hated her a little more.

Dana hadn’t said a word since Casey began performing. With a big grin on her face, my sister sang along, seemingly oblivious that I was sitting next to her. When she caught me staring at her, her lips straightened. “She’s super talented,” she said.

---