“How’s the business going?” Nova asks Rae.
“Good, really good.” Rae nods, taking a sip of water. “I’ve got a bunch of senior sessions booked for summer, and weddings too. My schedule is almost completely full.”
“That’s amazing,” Nova says, and I know she means it but I can also sense her sadness. I know she wants to be focusing on her photography and not working at the record store, but she’s just not there yet. Realistically, she doesn’t need to work, I can support us with my trust fund, but I know Nova doesn’t want that. She likes getting out and having her independence and I won’t try to take anything away from her.
“What’s up with you, dude?” Cade asks, tipping his beer at me. “Are you going to work at the bar for the rest of your life?”
I swallow thickly. It’s a legitimate question but not one I like. I went to school for music. I have a fucking degree. But I never figured out what to do with it.
I’m sure the answer seems obvious to most people, but not to me.
I don’t really want to sing in front of a huge audience, but I also don’t know if I want to sell my songs. Most are personal, and to put something like that out there …
“Seems like it,” I mutter.
Cade sets down his beer and I know I’m in for a lecture.
“You’re too good for that place. You’re talented, Jace. Why can’t you see that?”
Nova squeezes my knee beneath the table. She’s encouraged me so much over the years to do something with my music, and even though I tell her my reservations, she’s still on my ass to do something about it. I can’t really blame her—if she didn’t pursue her love of photography I’d be pushing her the same way she does me. That’s what you do when you love someone—you’re the wind that lifts them to their dreams.
I shrug. “It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated? All through high school all you talked about was your music—you even pissed your dad off by getting a degree in it. And now you’re going to be a bartender for the rest of your life?”
His words cut deep, especially when I think about the fact I’m going to be a father.
Do I really want my kid telling people his dad works at a bar?
I want to be someone my son or daughter can be proud of. I was never proud of my dad. I don’t want to pass my shame down to my child.
“I’m still figuring things out,” I reply.
Cade narrows his eyes on me. “Dude, you’re almost thirty. You better figure that shit out fast.”
“No cussing in front of the baby,” Xander hisses, covering the baby’s ears where she sits in his lap.
I pick at my food so I can ignore the stares of my friends, but most importantly of the girl at my side that I know only wants me to succeed.
“I’ll know when it’s the right time,” I finally mumble.
Cade makes some sort of noise like he either doesn’t believe me or thinks I’ll finally decide the right time is when I’m ninety.
Nova wiggles in her chair beside me and clears her throat. “I—uh—we have some news.”
Our friends look at us, brows furrowed. I know the last thing they’re thinking is baby. More than likely they’re thinking I finally grew a pair and asked my girl to marry me. Honestly, they’ve beaten the marriage thing into the ground. Nova and I made a universal decision marriage wasn’t for us and I don’t know why people can’t fucking respect that.
Nova looks at me, and I look at her. I give her a nod, telling her to go on. I won’t spill the beans, I want her to be sure she’s ready to tell them. If she changes her mind and blurts something else I’ll stand beside her.
She nervously fiddles with her napkin.
“Come on,” Thea snaps. “I’m growing gray hairs here. Are you guys moving or something?”
Nova shakes her head. “No,” she hedges. “We’re … we’re having a baby,” she blurts.
Silence.
The kind of silence that seems loud, like a roaring train, or the ocean crashing down on you.