by Kate Stacy
“I...okay.” She knows I have nothing more to say on the matter, so she moves on.
“It was the guy...back in November? The one you left the bar with?”
“Yeah, it was him.”
“And you never got his name?”
Tears stream down my face. God, I’m so stupid.
“We didn’t exchange names. Not real ones, anyway.” I wipe my face, a small smile appearing despite my current situation. “He called me Gorgeous, I called him Reckless. It was supposed to be fun, and mysterious. I mean, it was. It was the best night I’ve ever had, but it wasn’t supposed to end up like this.”
“That’s actually...yeah. I get it.”
Watching her take a big gulp of wine makes my mouth water. I could really use a fucking drink, but obviously that’s not happening for a long time. I kinda want to snatch the glass from her hand. If I’m unable to drink to get through this conversation, she should suffer with me.
“Now. About your family. I don’t think it’s possible for your family to be disappointed in you. Look at everything that happened with your sister. They were nothing but loving and supportive. It’ll be the same for you, and you know it. With that said, you have options. You don’t have to have this baby if it’s not what you want.”
When I realize what she means, my hackles go up.
“No, absolutely not. That is not an option,” I snap.
“Okay. Okay. Don’t bite my head off. I was just putting it out there. How about adoption?”
The glare I shoot her way answers her question.
“Well...then...I guess you’re having a baby.”
Fuck.
I’m having a baby.
SIX
Ryan
Relocating to Blackwood was the right move.
After only a few short weeks, I’m already noticing the benefits of living in a small town. It’s peaceful, and life seems to move at a slower pace. People are friendly and welcoming. There’s a strong sense of community you rarely see in a major city like Tampa. I finally understand why my mom chose to move back here. This is her hometown. I’m surprised she didn’t choose to raise me here.
This town has had a positive impact on Hannah, which is exactly what I was hoping would happen. She seems so much happier, lighter. She’s made a few friends at her new school, and I know she’s happy to be close to her grandma again. That feeling is mutual. My mom couldn’t be more thrilled to have us living nearby, especially since she tried for years to convince me to leave Florida. I’m glad I finally listened, even if I hate the reason why I took her advice.
My stress levels are considerably lower. Knowing Hannah is happy here plays a huge role, but it also helps that my job is less stressful. It’s been a big adjustment, transferring from a big city to a small town, where crime rates are so much lower. The change is good. Less tension, less feeling on edge. I feel safer doing my job than I ever have before. It helps that I instantly clicked with my new partner, Shane Morris. He’s serious when he needs to be, and it’s clear he’s got my back.
Not everything is perfect, of course. Adam decided to hang back in Florida for a little longer. He’s got some business to finish up with his tattoo shop before he feels comfortable leaving it in someone else’s hands. He also felt bad leaving Cannon, so he wanted to stick around, at least until the baby is born. I’d never expect any less from Adam. People who don’t know him think he’s an asshole. He is, but not to the people he loves. He’s got a bit of hero syndrome. A white knight complex. He cares deeply about his family and friends. Taking care of people is what he does, it’s his thing.
There’s an empty room in my house for him whenever he decides to make his move, and another for Cannon if we can ever convince him to follow.
I lucked out when I came across the listing for our house. It’s the main reason I visited Blackwood back in November. I knew I couldn’t pass up such a perfect house, so I flew up here, met with the real estate agent, and signed the paperwork the same day. The cost of living is lower here, so I could afford to go bigger. Scored a four-bedroom Craftsman home with four and a half bathrooms. It’s got more room than we could possibly need, especially with the large eat-in kitchen, living room, den, and finished basement. Hannah is in love with the huge front porch and sizable backyard.
I guess if I really think about it—and I do, often—I have this house to thank for meeting Gorgeous. There isn’t much that doesn’t make me think about her. Driving past the bed and breakfast on the way into town sparked the first real thoughts of running into her again. The same thoughts pop into my head whenever I drive past the bar where we met during one of my shifts. I’ve wanted to drop in so many times, on the off chance I’d see her again.
I told myself I wouldn’t chase her. From the moment I woke up alone in that bed, I told myself I didn’t have time for a woman in my life. I tried to push her out of my mind, but I’m realizing it’s not going to happen. She’s got some type of hold on me and I’m sick and tired of fighting it.
If only I could find her.
My mom’s new husband, Jefferson, is out of town for some reason or another, so she and Hannah decided to have a girls’ weekend. No boys allowed. I’ve been forbidden from stepping foot in my mother’s house. I’m okay with that.
It’s my weekend off and I have no responsibilities for the next forty-eight hours.
A drink sounds like an excellent idea.
Everything about the bar is the same, except its name.
It seems Blackwood Brewhouse is now 80 Proof Bar and Grill.
I almost thought I was in the wrong place, but it looks like they’ve rebranded since I drove past here a couple of weeks ago. Can’t complain. Not only do I like the new name, the change gives me the perfect reason to strike up a conversation with one of the bartenders. Then I can follow through with the rest of my plan.
It’s been two months since I walked through this door, and I never thought I’d be so excited to do it again. Zings of anticipation strum through my veins as I scan the crowd, hoping to lay eyes on my girl. I can’t say I’m not disappointed when I don’t see her face among the masses, but I haven’t forgotten her obvious relationship with the bartender who was working that night. Unfortunately, I don’t see him either.
I’ve been hoping to run into her in town at some point, but after a few weeks, I knew finding her wouldn’t be as easy as I’d hoped. I’ve accepted it. I’m not afraid to put in the work. I don’t know how, but somehow, I know she’ll be worth the time and effort. I can feel it down to my marrow.
The guy behind the bar who gets my drink looks vaguely familiar, so I start with him. Looking down at the napkin under the beer bottle in front of me reminds me of my excuse to strike up a conversation.
“I’m diggin’ the new name. It threw me off for a minute.” I laugh. “I haven’t been here in a couple months, and it was still Blackwood Brewhouse a couple weeks back when I drove by.”
“Yeah,” he nods, handing a drink to another customer. “It’s only been about a week, but the switch was in the works a year or so ago. Owners wanted a new name since they hired a full-time chef and decided to open the kitchen.”
“I get it. Makes perfect sense.”
“You must not be a townie, or you’d have heard about it all through the gossip chain.”
Chuckling, I take a drink before responding. “Actually, I just moved to town at the beginning of the month. Not sure if that qualifies me as a townie or not, but I don’t pay much attention to gossip either way.”
“Give it time, man. You won’t have much choice.”
Guy is friendly, even if he looks intimidating as hell. If I wasn’t a cop, I might actually be intimidated. I learned a long time ago not to judge a book by its cover, so I ignore his taller-than-me height, bulky frame, and arms covered in tattoos. He seems at ease talking to me, so I decide to go for it.
“You must know the locals then?” I ask.
; “Sure. I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“So maybe you can help me out,” I say, resting my forearms on the edge of the bar. He’s still making drinks, but the way his head tilts toward me tells me he’s listening. “I met a girl here two months ago but didn’t get her name. Maybe if I described her you might know who she is?”
“Not likely, man. We get so many people coming through here, no guarantee she’s even a local.”
“She seemed close to one of the bartenders. Real friendly. He obviously knew her, but he’s not here tonight.”
This seems to spark his interest. He holds up a finger to the next customer and turns to me.
“Describe her.”
Shit like this is part of my job, so I give him as much detail as I can. Height. Approximate weight. Eye color. He’s focused on my words and when I mention her dark blue hair, something shifts in his expression. His gaze hardens, and every detail that follows seems to tighten the muscles in his face. When I finish, he blinks before his expression goes blank.
“Sorry.” He shakes his head. “Can’t help you.”
Without another word, his gaze flicks to one of the other bartenders and gives him a barely perceptible shake of his head. The other guy’s eyes dart to me before they both go back to helping customers.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. You need another beer? Something stronger? Maybe a bite to eat? I can help you with that.” He looks at me pointedly. “But I’m afraid that’s as helpful as I can be.”
He’s lying.
No, that’s not exactly true.
He’s not lying—he’s omitting. Choosing his words carefully. He never said he doesn't know the girl. In fact, I’d bet my badge he knows exactly who she is, but he’s not willing to tell me. Judging by the silent communication with the other bartender, I won’t get any information out of him either.
“Thanks anyway, man. I’ll take you up on that beer.” I nod, looking him directly in the eye so he can see I’m letting it go.
It’s the last thing I want to do but pushing won’t get me the information I want. I know a stubborn man when I see one. His answer is final and being the law in this town...I can’t afford to burn any bridges.
As disappointed as I am not to learn who Gorgeous really is, I gotta respect the man. It’s obvious that whoever she is, he’s protecting her, and I can’t even be mad. I’m glad to know she has loyal people at her back.
As I enjoy my second beer, I contemplate leaving my information. If he doesn’t want to tell me who she is, maybe I could convince him to at least pass a message to her. I don’t think about it long before I decide against it. The subject may have dropped, but the tension in his body tells me it would be pointless. He’d shut me down if I even mention her again, so it’s not likely he’d be willing to pass on any information.
Standing, I pull out my wallet and drop a generous tip in the jar at the end of the bar. I tip my head at the bartender. He returns the gesture, and I notice some of the tension easing in his body as I turn and make my way out to my car.
I know nothing more than I did before.
Maybe it’s better this way.
Maybe this is life’s way of telling me I’m focused on the wrong thing.
I can’t spend any more time pining over and looking for a girl who probably didn’t want to be found in the first place.
SEVEN
Camille
Whoever coined the term “morning sickness” needs a slap in the face. With a brick.
I’m not normally a violent person but spending half my day praying to the porcelain gods makes me a little stabby. I’m sick all day, every day. Sure, I know from my doctor that it’s not always morning, and it often eases during the second trimester, but someone needs to come up with a different name.
I can’t eat breakfast.
I can’t eat most of my favorite foods.
Or anything sweet.
Nothing spicy.
Basically...I can’t enjoy anything with any flavor whatsoever. I’m stuck with bland, boring food—when I can manage to keep it down—and a steady supply of ginger candies that help the nausea. Minimally.
This little secret of mine is becoming increasingly difficult to keep hidden. I’m officially thirteen weeks pregnant and I haven’t told a single soul other than Macy, excluding my doctor and the nurses in her office.
I’m already showing, more than I thought I would be at this point. Oversized sweaters are convenient for now, but I won’t be able to use them to cover up much longer. Soon, this little bump will be impossible to hide.
I need to tell my family. I know I do, but I’m not ready. Not yet.
I’ve just barely come to terms with the fact that I’m even having this baby.
It took some time. I spent a few weeks in denial, of course.
I couldn’t deny it anymore after the dating scan at my ten-week appointment. How could I? Hearing the baby’s heartbeat? I’ve never heard a more incredible sound. Seeing that tiny little body in black and white? I fell in love instantly with the tiny person inside of me. The little miracle that fought through two forms of birth control to be here. This baby is an unexpected gift. One I cherish.
I haven’t figured out a way to tell everyone. How do I tell them I’m having a baby with a man whose name I don’t even know? I want to tell him about the baby—it’s the right thing to do—but I couldn’t find him if I tried. I don’t even know where to look. He could be anywhere. All I have are my memories, and the beautiful life created from one unforgettable night.
As happy as I am now about this pregnancy, the situation isn’t something I look forward to explaining to my family.
They’ve always been loving and supportive, but I have no way of knowing how they’ll react to this news. I can’t even begin to imagine. I’m terrified to find out. I worry they’ll be disappointed in me, and after everything I’ve been through, I’m not sure I can handle their disappointment.
I’ll tell them soon. But not today.
What’s that saying about best laid plans?
It totally applies here. I must have jinxed myself, or something.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I laugh. I can’t stop laughing.
I’ve come full circle now, haven’t I?
This all started with a pep talk in front of this same mirror in my brother’s bar and here I am again, only this time I’m dealing with the fact that my secret is about to come out. I really, really didn’t want to do this today, but I have no choice but to tell them now.
All because of some seemingly innocent maple syrup.
Fucking maple syrup.
“You’re determined to out me, aren’t you Little Bit?” I ask the baby, rubbing my belly to ease some of the lingering tension in my muscles.
All I wanted to do was enjoy Valentine’s Day brunch with the people I love. Everything was great until that damn maple syrup touched my taste buds and sent my ass sprinting for the bathroom. Now I have to walk back out there, face my family, and tell them the truth. Because what choice do I have? Keeping a secret is one thing, but an outright lie is different. I will not lie to them.
I’m surprised no one has come to check up on me yet. Maybe what’s happening is obvious. Maybe they already have some idea. Questions are coming. There’s no doubt about that.
No point in prolonging the inevitable.
Taking in a long, deep breath, I pull the door open and almost crash into my sisters.
Presley looks worried.
It’s been especially hard to keep this from her since we live together.
Madalyn though, she looks at me, eyes brimming with tears.
She knows. She’s pregnant, so she knows all the signs. The look on her face tells me she already figured out my little secret.
Flashing my palms at them, I give a subtle shake of my head.
“Let’s go back to the table. I’d rather tell everyone at once.”
Mads nods, swiping at the tears that have escaped. She takes my hand as Presley grabs the other and we walk back to the table. I love my sisters. No matter what, they’re here by my side, lending me their strength because they know this is difficult for me. There’s no need for me to tell them, they just know. It’s a triplet thing.
All eyes are on me and they’re full of questions. Every single pair.
I might as well just come out and say it.
“I’m pregnant.”
Now, I can deal with the fallout.
As expected, questions start flying from every direction. My breath gets caught in my throat and tears well in my eyes. Blinking them back, I look down at the floor.
“Please.” I choke out.
The room goes silent.
Clearing my throat, I raise my eyes to my loved ones. “Obviously, you all have questions.” I close my eyes momentarily to gather myself. I need to find the words, to find some semblance of control over this situation. “I’m thirteen weeks pregnant. I found out about a month ago. I just...I wasn’t ready to share the news with everyone.”
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” Mom says.
“I’m not.”
That statement shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone—I haven’t dated since high school—but several heads tilt, eyebrows knit, and eyes flicker with confusion.
I close my eyes again. I try to choke down the bile working its way up my throat. This is the hard part.
“I don’t know who the father is.”
I leave it hanging and wait for the outrage. The disappointment.
But it doesn’t come.
Holden stands, coming to my side. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me gently away from my sisters, who both squeeze my hands before letting go.
“Why don’t you sit down for a minute? Then you can explain when you’re ready.”
