“Is she still working so much? That can’t be good.”
“No,” I said simply. I’d convinced her to cut back at work because the stress seemed to make things worse. At first, Avery was resistant, until she saw how terrified I was that something may happen to her and our daughter.
My mind went to Kayla and how she may have looked today, on her twenty-third birthday. A black cloud had always hovered over March sixth, but today it seemed worse knowing that soon I would have my own little girl to look after. I couldn’t help but worry that just because Avery hadn’t experienced the extent of my bad luck, Penny might.
I wondered if she would take after me, dark hair and light eyes, reminding me of Kayla. Maybe even curly tendrils like the ones I used to tug on and laugh when they sprung back into place.
A chill ran up my spine, thinking of those curls being wet and sprawled across the grass.
“You stalking me now?”
I glanced over my shoulder as Hope slid onto the stool next to me, pulling her pink hair up into a high, messy ponytail. It was now fuchsia instead of Pepto-Bismol. She was still wearing her white T-shirt and black slacks for her waitressing job.
“I was here first. That’s not how stalking works.”
I held up a finger to Ginger, letting her know I needed another beer. She noticed Hope and arched an eyebrow.
“I’ll get her drink, too,” I said, feeling the alcohol burn through my veins. “That doesn’t mean this is a date.”
“Of course not. Thanks,” Hope said, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed a break, and I remembered this place when you told me the story about how you started dating Avery.” She sighed. “I love that story.”
“Where’s Toby?” I asked.
“Cinda has him. That woman is a godsend. Thanks for the heads-up. Toby loves her.”
I bobbed my head in agreement, peeling back the label of my beer. “She’s great with kids.”
“And thanks for letting me use your dryer. I think I’m going to have to try to find another one at the secondhand. It’s a huge pain in the ass lugging all our wet laundry to the laundromat with Toby in tow.”
“No problem.”
“Is it weird that he has more clothes than I do? I have five white shirts for work, two pairs of jeans, six T-shirts, two pairs of cotton shorts, two nightgowns, one bar shirt, one black dress, four pairs of socks, two bras, and ten pairs of panties.” She made a face. “You’re officially poor when you have an exact count of every article of clothing you own.”
“I prefer to call it frugal.”
“What’s wrong?” Hope bumped her shoulder against mine. I swayed slightly on my stool. “You worried about being a daddy?”
I shook my head, looking down at the wooden surface in front of me. It wasn’t me I was worried about. My gut twisted, feeling like I was betraying Avery just by my thoughts.
“I’ve seen you in action under pressure, Josh. You’re going to do just fine. And if you need help … well, I owe you one or fifty.”
Hope’s words didn’t help, and the tightening in my chest was becoming vise-like.
Ginger placed two shots and a fresh beer in front of me, her eyes darting back and forth between Hope and me.
“Josh,” Ginger said, warning in her voice. “Maybe I should call you a cab.”
I ignored her. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Didn’t even plan on it. I glanced over at Hope, who smiled at me the way Avery used to.
Ginger left us for the opposite end of the bar, glancing at me once in a while between tending other customers.
“So, if you’re not anxious about parenthood, what is it?”
“Do you believe in curses?” I asked, taking a sip from my Budweiser.
“I curse all the fucking time,” she joked, causing me to laugh.
“I’ll drink to that.”