Tequila Rose

by Willow Winters

  Picking at my nails I decide I’ll order the test, Brody will want to take it and that’s all I need really. With the realization that I’ll know definitively who the father is, I try to swallow but my throat is tight. Opening up the cabinet drawer, I take out the Advil, listening to the bottle rattle and take out three. I down them with my coffee before ordering the test on my phone once and for all.

  I didn’t ask Brody to stay last night, but I also didn’t ask him to leave. And he stayed.

  That is my plan in all of this, even if it feels like it’s tearing me up on the inside. I won’t ever ask a man to stay, but I can’t imagine ever asking either of the two of them to leave.

  “Mommy, are you okay?” Bridget’s voice surprises me from behind and I’m quick to turn around and smile. Her little baby voice is full of worry until I boop her on her nose and tell her good morning.

  “Mommy’s allergies are acting up this morning,” I say, lying to her and scrunch my nose.

  She makes a sniffling sound while pulling at the hem of her Paw Patrol pink nightgown and climbing onto her seat for breakfast.

  With my back to her, I pull myself together and get out a bowl and Cheerios before she even has a chance to tell me she wants cereal for breakfast. I already know she does. My girl loves her milk.

  Me with my coffee and her with her cereal, we sit at the table like we do every morning, but today is so much different.

  “Mommy loves you more than anyone, you know that, right?” I ask her and she doesn’t bother looking up as she slurps her milk and nods at the same time. I tell her, “More than anyone in the whole wide world, I love you the most.”

  Brody

  Charlie’s is never empty. That’s one thing I have learned about this small town. And the two roast beef sandwiches I’m waiting on are one of the many reasons why. I don’t know who Charlie is, but the restaurant in his name makes a damn good meal.

  Even from the patio, I can faintly hear the sounds of power saws from down the street. That would be the granite counter being fitted for the bar tops. Griffin and I decided this morning that one thing is clear: we’re not in competition with Charlie’s. No sandwiches, salads and chef’s specials that involve homemade bread.

  We’re going to offer a different menu, more pub-like and less comfort food. We definitely need fried pickles. That’s a given. I’m drawn back to the bar where I first met Magnolia. Something like that. That’s what I want. And Griffin is easygoing enough to agree to it all. Although he pointed out if we don’t get the legalities sorted out, it’s going to be a BYOB situation for us, and no one goes into a pub expecting not to get a tall glass at the bar.

  “Brody, right?” A masculine voice from behind me catches my attention. The afternoon breeze is cooler than it’s been. Fall is slipping into the color of the trees lining the sidewalk too. Still, the suit jacket Robert wears seems … unnecessary. The T-shirt I’m wearing is just fine for this weather. Even if it is a little colder than it’s been.

  “Robert,” I answer him back by speaking his name and hold out my hand. He’s got a firm shake, one I can respect although I don’t know what to think about him. Even though he’s as tall as me, his build is slighter. His proper haircut and clean shave make him look slightly older too.

  “Nice to formally meet you.”

  “I think we were supposed to meet the other day for business.” I recall Griffin saying he was the one we were supposed to meet with for the alcohol license.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Robert says, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Your new bar is the talk of the town.” I almost question him further about it, but he adds, “Among other things.”

  “And what would those other things be?” I ask him, knowing damn well he’s referring to Magnolia. A slight movement to my right makes me glance back to see a to-go bag has been placed down beside me. Mary Sue, the young waitress who took my order, has already turned around, leaving the two of us to ourselves.

  “I don’t want to keep you from lunch,” Robert says and my attention is turned back to him. His blue gaze meets mine with complete seriousness. “I just want to let you know she’s a good girl and she doesn’t need someone coming in and messing up her life.”

  “You speak for Magnolia?” My anger gets the best of me and it seeps into the question.

  With a heavy sigh, he looks past me a moment and shakes his head. “She speaks for herself.” He meets my gaze again and adds, “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t already know what I said is true.”

  “I’m not here to mess up anything.”

  “She already has someone. So back off.”

  I remain unbothered although my eyes narrow. “Sounds like you guys are a thing?”

  “We are and I’m sure you know we are.”

  “See, that’s confusing, though, because the town says you aren’t. And Magnolia says she’s single.”

  “I plan on changing that tonight,” he says and nods his head like it’s a done deal. “Maybe we kept it low key before, but I’m all in with Mags and everyone knows that.”

  “Doesn’t seem like you,” I tell him.

  “I’m willing to leave with her, pick up and go.” His confidence rises and I don’t know why. Magnolia hasn’t hinted that she wants to leave. It’s been just the opposite. “Are you willing to do that? Change your life for her? Because I am.”

  The intensity of the conversation increases with every passing second. Until he clears his throat and glances past me to the three waitresses who are just behind us, setting a single table.

  As if it isn’t obvious they’re listening. My annoyance couldn’t be any greater.

  “I sent the paperwork over to your company’s email. Congratulations on your bar.” Robert’s regards come with a nod and he moves to turn his back to me.

  “You signed it?” I’m not going to lie, a piece of me thought he wouldn’t, just to keep me out of town and away from Magnolia. Everything about this guy throws me off.

  “Yeah, it’s all signed. I think I may be long gone by the time it opens, though. And just so you know, I plan on taking Magnolia with me.”

  Magnolia

  “I’m relieved he’s the one who messaged, though,” I say to Renee, who is seated on the other side of my kitchen island. Slipping in my favorite earrings, I add, “I needed to message him anyway,” I lower my voice so Bridget can’t hear, “about the test.”

  “That’s good dinner conversation,” she jokes flatly and then calls out, “What do you want for dinner, Bridge? Scagetti?” She mimics the way Bridget says spaghetti and the two of them clap when my little girl shrieks with joy.

  “But what’s he want to talk about?”

  “He didn’t say. I would think it’s a new position maybe?” He’s always kept me up to date whenever something’s changed for him. When he bought a house, when he transferred departments. Every step of the way, he’s kept me informed. “Something must’ve changed,” I say and slip on my heels.

  “Yeah … it has nothing to do with Romeo showing up?”

  “I told you.” With my voice lowered I remind her, “I told him about Brody already.”

  “Yes, you told me. You told me he understood and I told you politicians are bred to be liars.” She rolls her eyes just like she did last time.

  “Well, whatever it is,” I tell her, picking up my car keys, “I’ll spill the beans when I get home. Promise.”

  “Enjoy your fancy dinner,” she calls out after me, “I’m going to enjoy my fine dining with my favorite little girl in the whole wide world.”

  I have to smile as I kiss the top of Bridget’s head, who’s hard at work scribbling in her coloring book. “Love you, my little miss.”

  She’s too invested in the red and blue swirls so I head out with a wave and say thanks again to Renee.

  The drive there, I can only think about two things: how I forgot my jacket so it’s going to be chilly with only this sleeveless cotton dress on, but mostly, how the last time
I was at Morgan’s I was having an official first date with Brody.

  Clicking the radio off, I let the turmoil eat me up. I’m with Brody now. I’m not a girl who sleeps around and even though Brody didn’t say anything to make it official, I am not doing anything with Robert while I’m seeing another man.

  As I hit every red light on the way there, I groan. Feels like a sign this conversation isn’t going to go oh so well.

  That’s the thing with Robert, though, I can have any conversation I need with him. I always have.

  We should have done this years ago. It’s all I can think as I walk into the restaurant and make my way to where Robert’s sitting. He stands like a gentleman and pulls out my chair.

  “You forgot your jacket?” he asks with an asymmetric grin. Rubbing my arms, I scrunch my nose and tell him, “I’ll warm up.”

  When he politely pushes in my chair, I thank him and then the waiter who’s already beside me with a menu.

  My nerves rattle, but even as I order a drink, I keep thinking we should have done this years ago. “We should have had a paternity test years ago.” My hushed comment slips out the second the waiter has let us be.

  The ease and peace I feel with the decision today is not at all reflected in Robert’s surprised eyes. Regret instantly consumes me.

  With a glass of wine to help me settle, I take a sip of ice water as he reaches for his tumbler of whiskey.

  “A paternity test?” he asks and the thud of the glass on the table matches the thud in my chest.

  “You don’t think so?” I whisper the question and his head shakes silently as the waiter sets my glass of wine down.

  “Thank you,” I manage to get out with a small smile, even though Robert’s lips are pressed in a thin line.

  “It’s not that I want anything … legally.”

  “It’s not that, Mags.” The words rush out of him and worry plays across his handsome features. With a hand running down his face he lets out a rush of air and adds, “This is not what I wanted to talk about tonight.”

  “I’m sorry.” That guilt in the pit of my stomach climbs up higher.

  “Don’t be; it’s all right,” he tells me and lays his hand out on the table, palm up, coaxing me to take it. I can only stare at his outstretched hand in disbelief. We’ve had plenty of dinners together in public. And I’ve held his hand privately many a time. But … public affection? PDA or whatever it’s called? There’s an unspoken rule between us that we don’t cross that line.

  Pulling his hand back, he continues, his cadence easy. “If that’s what you want to do.”

  “You don’t want to know?” I ask him with earnest.

  Robert hesitates and it’s then that I see how tired he looks. The darkness under his eyes and how his normally cleanly shaved jaw shows more than a five o’clock shadow. “Is everything okay?” I ask and the waiter interrupts the moment, laying down fresh bread and oil on the table.

  Once he’s gone, Robert smiles at me. A soft smile that I know well. “I didn’t know you were ready for more,” he says and there’s a sadness in his tone that’s unlike him.

  Shifting in my seat, I pull both hands into my lap. “I don’t know what to say,” I tell him, my appetite vanishing.

  “I would wait forever for you,” he starts and I cut him off.

  “You broke up with me,” I remind him.

  “And then you needed me and I went right back to you,” he tells me like that’s what happened.

  “It wasn’t the same.” He knows that. It’s not like he took me back. It’s not like I wanted him back either. “My whole life fell apart and you were there for me, but as a friend.”

  “I—I,” his frustration shows but it’s not directed at me. With his eyes closed, his next words are pleading. “Do you think I have what we have with all of my friends?” His pale blue eyes beg me as he adds, “Really, Mags? I didn’t know you were ready or that you wanted more.”

  My silence is met with a plea from him. “I deserve a chance.”

  He may have been surprised by the paternity test, but not as surprised as I am sitting here.

  “That’s what this dinner is?” I ask him and as I cross my legs, I can still feel Brody from last night. I’ve never felt like a whore before. The town whispered that word and slut when they found out I was pregnant and there wasn’t a single moment I felt like it was deserved. But sitting here now, having this conversation … I truly think less of myself.

  “We can leave, Mags. We can go up north, wherever you want.”

  “What?”

  “It’s more liberal,” he tells me and his tone adds in that he’s got a whole speech prepared for me.

  “I can’t even wrap my head around what you’re saying right now. You want to move? Not just across town but away from here?”

  “Don’t you? You wanted to when we were young. Under our angel oak tree.”

  My eyes prick with tears remembering that old tree that sits in the center of town and the promises we made together. “We were kids and didn’t know any better.”

  “Mags, you name a place, I’ll go with you. We’ll start fresh. Me, you, and Bridget?”

  “Bridget may not—”

  “I don’t care if I’m not her father.” Robert’s voice is louder than intended and I know other people may have heard. He doesn’t bother to look around us, but he does take in a steadying breath. “I’ll do the test if you want to know, but I don’t care about that. I care that I’ve been there for her every step of the way when I could. You did it all and I’m not trying to take away from that, but I did everything you wanted.”

  My mind plays the reel back, wondering what the hell I’ve been thinking all these years.

  “I didn’t mean to use you.” I’m careful and slow with my words, wondering if I took advantage of him. A voice in the back of my head tells me I did. Sitting here now with him, how could I not have known how he feels?

  “You didn’t take advantage of me. It’s my fault,” he says then takes in another deep breath followed by another swig of his whiskey. “I never asked the right questions or else I would have known you were ready.”

  “Ready?”

  “For a relationship,” he answers and his strong hand that’s been over every inch of my body lays out on the table again.

  “Robert …” I’m stunned, truly. He’s saying all the right things, but … why now?

  “I want to make it official. I want to move up north and start fresh. I want it all with you, Mags. With you and Bridget.”

  “I slept with him.” The confession slips out unbidden.

  My gaze never leaves Robert’s as I choke out, “Last night. I told him he might be Bridget’s father and slept with him.”

  Feeling sick to my stomach, I let the silence settle between us.

  “Are you ready to order?” the waiter asks and Robert offers the man the semblance of a polite smile and orders for both of us. He orders my favorite and exactly what I would have ordered myself. Because he already knows. He knows everything about me.

  The air of confidence around him dissipates the moment the waiter leaves. “You slept with him?”

  “Yes,” I say with a calm demeanor even though it eats me up inside. It shouldn’t. I don’t owe Robert an explanation, but I give it to him anyway. “I really like him.”

  “But you don’t love him,” he offers.

  I can never repay him for the grace he gives me. There’s no hostility, nothing but a simple question about love. My heart shatters for us when I realize that truth.

  “No, I don’t know him enough to love him like that.”

  Robert nods, his eyes glistening and holding a faint tinge of red, but he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t say anything at all although he does finish his drink.

  I suppose I can’t blame him.

  “Say something, please.” I hate the silence between us and the tense air. I never wanted this. I didn’t think it would be like this.

  “What do you want m
e to say, Mags?” He’s obviously upset and my heart aches with his. Why does it feel like a breakup? I never wanted to feel this way with him. In all our highs and lows, I’ve only ever felt this way once and I can’t go back to that night again. He tells me with all sincerity, “I still love you.”

  “I love you too.” I’ll always love him. He knows that. I know he does.

  His response is immediate and resolute. “Then don’t see him again.”

  “I can’t just ignore him, Robert—” He cuts me off before I can explain myself. My head is a whirlwind of thoughts and questions. My heart races with uncertainty but also hope. Hope that’s long since been dormant but is now being stirred with low flames.

  “You gave him a chance, Mags,” he says and lays his hand on the table again. Because of the hurt in his gaze, I reach out this time, letting him hold me and I’m holding him just the same. “Don’t I deserve a chance too?” he whispers and then he adds, much stronger, much more confident, “What if I asked you to marry me?”

  Don’t stop reading. Magnolia’s story concludes in Autumn Night Whiskey Book 2. Get your copy today!

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  Also by Willow Winters

  Small Town Romance

  Tequila Rose Book 1

  Autumn Night Whiskey Book 2 (March 2021)

  He tasted like tequila and the fake name I gave him was Rose.

  Four years ago, I decided to get over one man, by getting under another. A single night and nothing more.