“I agreed to no such thing,” Jake says before planting a kiss on the top of Ava’s head.
“Jake wants to get married before the baby is born.” Ava puts her hand on her still-flat stomach. “So it won’t be a long engagement.”
“Tried to get her to marry me at the courthouse tonight,” Jake says, “but she wouldn’t do it.”
Ava shakes her head. “Your mom would kill you.”
“Nah, she’d stop short of murder, and it would be worth it.” Jake’s eyes fill with wonder as he stares at his bride-to-be.
Damn, they’re cute. And so good together they almost make you believe in the power of love and happily-ever-after. A few months ago, I thought Colton and I were just like them. Of course, a few months ago, I wasn’t hiding a pregnancy or convinced my boyfriend was cheating on me.
How quickly things can change.
“Another round?” the waitress asks.
“I should get out of here.” I reach for my purse, slinging it over one shoulder. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”
“No, stay,” Ava says. “Come on, Ellie. Just a little longer?”
“Maybe you need another drink?” Molly says. She waves to my glass. It’s cranberry juice, but everyone who knows me probably assumes it’s mixed with vodka.
“Sure. One more can’t hurt.” I try to smile. This is, after all, a celebration. You don’t get many chances to celebrate your best friend’s engagement to the love of her life, and I don’t want to screw it up. I should be elated. Even if Colton can’t take his eyes off Molly.
I wonder where Lorena Bobbitt is these days, and if she’d be available to give me some pointers.
“We’ll get the drinks,” Ava tells Cindy. Ava’s been my co-conspirator over the last couple of months, pretending to serve me alcohol while I’ve sat on the news of my pregnancy. I never planned to keep the secret this long.
“If you insist,” Cindy says before walking to the next table.
Ava and I scoot out of the booth. Ava’s all smiles as she loops her arm through mine. She hasn’t been drinking either—for obvious reasons—but she’s so high on life right now that she’s practically floating to the bar.
“You’re really glowing, and it’s kind of annoying,” I tell her.
“Don’t hate me because I’m happy.”
“I don’t hate you. I love you. I am jealous, though. I haven’t had sex in weeks, and while I’m incredibly exhausted, I’m also kind of horny.” I frown. The conspicuous lack of nookie in my life is just another check in the column of Colton’s “unusual behavior.” Not so long ago, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. “Does pregnancy change your pheromones? Do you think I repulse Colton on some animalistic level now?”
“I really doubt it,” she says, laughing. “Does this mean you still haven’t told him?”
I shrug.
“Ellie. Tell the boy.”
“I know I need to, but . . .” I busy myself by grabbing a couple of glasses and pouring some beers. “I’m not ready.”
“Are you afraid it’ll change things between you two? Or is there more you’re not telling me?”
I shrug. “At first I was afraid to tell him because I was so sure he was about to propose. I thought we’d be getting engaged any day, and I wanted him to ask me before he knew about the baby. Like Jake did with you.”
“Does seconds before really count?” she asks.
“It does, and you know it.” I put the first beer on the tray and grab another glass. “Jake wanted to marry you before he knew you were pregnant, and Colton . . .” Damn it.
“You said at first. What’s keeping you from telling him now?”
Ava’s been so busy with summer children’s theater and preparing the new program for the fall that we haven’t gotten to talk much. We’ve had the occasional coffee date, but I haven’t had a good opportunity to tell her about my suspicions. Add to that the fact that my suspicions involve her brother, and I haven’t really wanted to. But after seeing the way Colton is looking at Molly tonight, they seem like a lot more than suspicions now.
“Molly,” I admit. The admission makes me feel raw and vulnerable.
Ava slides a beer on the tray before turning to me. “What do you mean?”
“He’s been talking to her a lot. I hear them on the phone late at night.”
She pales. “Oh. You’re sure he’s talking to her?”
Nodding, I shift my gaze back to our table. Molly’s all rosy-cheeked and happy—the perfect picture of blond beauty. She seems oblivious to the longing in Colton’s eyes. But I guess that’s the way it’s always been between them. I know this because he told me all about it. Months ago, he confessed to me that he once had a thing for Molly.
Legally, she’s his stepsister, but he refuses to call her that or think of her as a sister. When he was in junior high, he had it so bad for her that when his mother moved to Florida, he left all his friends and moved with her, afraid that moving in with his father would make Molly see him as a brother.
Silly me. I took his confession to mean he was over her.
“I really am the biggest kind of idiot,” I whisper.
“Don’t say that. You’re no idiot. You’re just hormonal and stressed.”
I turn back to Ava. “I checked his phone. If they’ve texted, he’s deleted the history, but he hasn’t deleted the call history.” My eyes fill with tears. “What on earth could they be talking about in the middle of the night?”
“Shit, Ellie. You should ask him that.”
I shake my head. “You’re not supposed to ask questions if you’re not ready to hear the answer.”
“I’m sure it’s not what you think.”
Oh, sweet Ava. I bite my lip. There’s so much she doesn’t know about her brother. So much I’ve kept from her in an attempt to protect her and her relationship with Colton.
She squeezes my arm. “Tell him what you feel, and make him tell you what’s going on. My brother loves you. He’s just not always good at the grownup stuff. Sometimes Colton needs to be told that his actions are hurtful because he’s so oblivious.”
I grab another glass and fill it with ice and cranberry juice. “I think he knows that fucking around on me is hurtful.”
She shakes her head. “I really don’t believe that’s what this is.”
Then why doesn’t he touch me anymore?
“Talk to him,” she says softly. “And dang it, Ellie, tell him about the baby.”
“Not yet, okay? Soon. Just . . .” My gaze drifts back to the table and to Colton, who’s now sitting on the opposite side of the booth by Molly. I hate them both so much right now. “She’s really moving back here?” I ask Ava. “I thought she hated Jackson Harbor.”
Ava shrugs. “Brayden decided he wanted to open a tasting room on the other side of town—you know, a place for the beer connoisseurs who don’t want the bar atmosphere and aren’t looking for a meal. He offered the job of running it to her, and I guess the offer was just too good to refuse.”
“Remind me to thank him,” I grumble.
We finish loading the tray and head back to the booth and toward the group’s raucous laughter. Colton’s whispering something to Molly.
Her gaze snaps to meet mine, and she blushes. “Is one of those beers for me?” she asks.
I want to throw it in her face. Instead, I pass it over, along with everyone else’s drinks, before excusing myself for the bathroom. I hide in a locked stall and squeeze my eyes shut.
I can do this. I can go out there and sip on my cranberry juice for fifteen more minutes, and then take my boyfriend and get out of here.
Another wave of nausea rolls over me, and I rest my head against the cool metal of the stall door. I have no idea why the world calls this “morning sickness.” Mine is more like “morning okayness.” I can eat and function like a healthy human the first few hours of the day. It’s the remaining hours that present a challenge. And while I haven’t actually vomited, most days I’d choose puking over persistent nausea.
“Did you see who’s out there with the Jacksons?” someone says outside the stall.