“You don’t have any insurance, do you? Not being temporary part-time.”
The last thing she wanted to do was have this conversation with him. “No, I don’t have insurance. And my mother had three miscarriages before she had me and one after, so I’m scared I’m going to lose this baby because I can’t afford a really good doctor, so after years of telling my parents moving around a lot doesn’t make me irresponsible, I’m going to have to ask them for money.”
Crap. She hadn’t meant to tell him that much but when she opened her mouth, the panic that kept her up the night before had just sort of spilled out. Inside, Mister Happy-family-with-enough-money-to-throw-a-fancy-wedding-bash-with-an-open-bar was probably recoiling in horror.
The tears spilling onto her cheeks were the last dollop of whipped cream on the whole steaming hunk of humiliation pie.
“You don’t have to ask your parents for money.” Kevin handed her a few paper towels, which she used to hide her face as much as wipe her eyes. “They’re not having a baby. We are, and we’ll be fine.”
We. Part of her was relieved to have a partner in panic and uncertainty, but we was also a level of togetherness she hadn’t expected to share with anybody for a while, especially with a guy whose Rolodex was filled out in Do-Me Fuchsia lipstick.
“Sit here and relax a few minutes,” he told her. “I’ve gotta run down to my office but I won’t be long.”
“I should go.” She was tired and, emotionally, she was as wrung out as a cheap chamois cloth.
“Just give me a few minutes. I need to check on something and I’ll be right back.”
How could she say no? The poor guy not only had a weeping heap of drama dropped in his lap, but the news he was going to be a father, too. He was doing pretty well, she had to admit. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
Halfway to the door, he turned back. “Promise me you won’t leave.”
“I promise. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
When he closed the door behind him, Beth collapsed onto the couch with her wadded-up paper towels and sighed. She wasn’t going to see Albuquerque any time soon. She’d be too busy staying here and being part of a we with Kevin Kowalski, whether she wanted to or not.
Chapter Four
Kevin closed the door of his office behind him, shutting out the din of the bar, and sank into his desk chair.
Holy shit, he was going to be a father. Dad. Daddy. Holy shit.
Sure, he’d been thinking maybe it was time to settle down. Find a woman who wouldn’t screw him up the way the first one had and maybe have a couple of kids.
But not necessarily today.
Leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head, he tried to absorb it. Condoms weren’t one hundred percent, a fact he’d had drummed into his head by his father the first time he borrowed the car to go on a date. But why couldn’t he be one of the two percent that won the lottery or found a fancy French painting worth millions for fifty cents in a yard sale?
No, he was getting a baby. Less than nine months from now he was going to be a father. He took a deep breath, heard how shaky the exhale was and took another. Didn’t seem to help.
But now wasn’t the time to panic because Beth seemed a little shaky and they couldn’t both be shaky at the same time. He could handle this. He was ready to have a kid. He hadn’t thought much about it, but he must be because during those awful few seconds after he asked her if she was keeping it and she hadn’t answered, the thought of losing that baby had made his gut clench up so bad he thought he was going to puke on her.
For now he had to keep his shit together and come up with a plan. He had a nice savings account. The bar was running well into the black. He could get his hands on whatever money she needed. Hell, worst case, he’d hit up his brother. Those twisted books Joe wrote had him rolling in cash. For now he rifled through the filing cabinet until he found what he was looking for. Taking another deep breath that didn’t seem to help, he picked up the phone and punched in the numbers.
It took longer than he’d thought and he feared he’d walk into his apartment and find her gone. But when he finally made it upstairs, he found her curled up on his couch, munching on Cool Ranch Doritos and watching country music videos.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, holding up the bag.
“Course not.” He sat in the chair opposite the couch and propped his elbows on his knees. “So I made a phone call and my insurance company is totally run by a bunch of dicks. Even if we got married this week, I don’t have a pregnancy rider and your pregnancy would be a pre-existing condition anyway, so no coverage. Although the baby will be covered as soon as it’s born.”
Beth had frozen, a Dorito halfway to her mouth, but then her eyes widened. “Married? No, Kevin, I—”
“For the insurance,” he interrupted. “Which is a moot point, I guess.”
“Oh. Okay.”