Julia gave a short, smoke-roughened laugh. “I’ve got three sisters and two daughters and they’ve all had kids. Sometimes you get a faraway look on your face and put your hand over your stomach. Probably think you have cramps if not for the dreamy expression.”
She hadn’t wanted anybody to know yet, and that went double for her coworkers. And their employer. Not until she had a back-up plan in case they fired her.
They wouldn’t fire her because of her condition, of course. They’d find another reason to let her go because, right or wrong, a lot of people weren’t comfortable being waited on by a visibly pregnant woman. Made them feel guilty.
“June twenty-eighth,” she said when Julia made a come-on gesture. “Please don’t tell anybody. I…it’s bad luck.”
“Hell, I won’t tell anybody, honey. You make sure you eat right and take your prenatal vitamins or you ain’t gonna get through the day.”
“I will.”
“By eat right, I mean more than a granola bar, by the way. But I better go out back and have my smoke. And, if you don’t want anybody to know you’ve got a bun in the oven, keep your hands in your pockets.”
Beth smiled, but it faded as soon as Julia walked away.
It weighed on her constantly—the question of what she would do if or when she couldn’t do this job anymore, whether because of her pregnancy or because she’d been fired.
The idea of not having an income was so repulsive it made even the benign granola bar roll in her stomach. She wasn’t used to being responsible for anybody but herself, and her needs were pretty simple. A baby’s weren’t.
But now she had Kevin, the mini devil on her shoulder whispered. Kevin wouldn’t evict her and he wouldn’t let her go hungry or without medical care. The plus sign on the home pregnancy test had seriously rocked her boat, but she had Kevin now. Kevin, who was able and willing to steady the boat.
The problem with that, the overly cautious angel on the other shoulder argued, was that Kevin would not only steady the boat, but he’d grab the till and steer her boat wherever he wanted.
Then, if he decided to abandon ship, she’d be even worse off. Not only would her boat be rocked again, but she’d be lost without him. Helpless.
No, Beth wasn’t going to depend on Kevin. She was having enough trouble keeping him at arm’s length—a decision her body in no way supported, judging by the way it tossed and turned every night, aching for him.
“You still sitting here?” Julie’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts.
She glanced at her watch. Oops. “Just finishing up.”
She drained the rest of her coffee and dropped the empty mug into a buspan. Then she tossed the granola bar wrapper into the trash and hit the restroom.
Time to paste on a sunny smile and concentrate on making as much money as she could—while she could.
***
A glass smashed behind Kevin and he didn’t even have to look to know Paulie’d done the dropping. How did he know? Because that Sam Logan guy was sitting at a front table—eating a burger, drinking a beer and watching SportsCenter on one of the big screen TVs, like he had almost every night for the last two weeks or so.
Kevin ducked as Paulie went by him with the broom, muttering words he couldn’t quite make out under her breath. “You need help with that?”
“No.”
Tempting as it was to keep his nose out of her business, that Logan guy got to her for some reason and those glasses weren’t cheap. “You wanna tell me who he is yet?”
“You know who he is.” She squatted down and swept the broken glass into the dustpan. “He’s a suit from Boston, building a swank conference center. Staying at that fancy bed-and-breakfast place down the street.”
“I heard that. What I haven’t heard yet is how you two know each other or why you’re afraid of him.”
Paulie stood and poked him in the chest. “I am not afraid of him. We had a thing once, okay? The thing ended, never thought I’d see him again, but here he is. End of story.”
It wasn’t the end of the story he was interested in. He wanted to know the beginning—how a guy like Logan and a woman like Paulie even met, never mind how they came to have a thing. “The offer still stands. I’ll throw him out if it’ll make you stop breaking my glasses.”
“You’ve got no grounds to throw him out. He hasn’t started a fight and he’s not a Yankees fan.”
“My bar, my rules. I can throw him out if I want to.”
“Forget it.” She gave him her best pissed-off-Paulie look. “End of story.”
He shrugged, but gave Sam Logan a look nonetheless. Since the man was watching them instead of SportsCenter, he didn’t miss it. He didn’t cower, though. Just smiled and raised his glass before taking a swig of Michelob. Kevin was debating on whether or not to have a chat with the guy when the door opened and Beth walked in.