“Me, too.” My eyes meet his with a list of questions, but I start off with a simple one first. “When’s the last time you ate?” I probably sound like a nagging partner, but I don’t care.
His momentary silence speaks volumes. “Haven’t had much of an appetite. Been snacking here and there.”
This jacks my guilt up to level ten. “Please eat.” I grip his biceps. “You’ve lost weight.” Not in a healthy way either.
“I’ll try.” His thumb swipes slow over my bottom lip, his eyes following the movement. “Maybe we could hang after work. Make sure I eat.” Doubt and hope lace his voice as he lifts his eyes to mine.
My first thought is to tell him yes. The last two weeks have been shitty. For both of us. But I don’t want to give the impression that this is an easy fix. A supposed pregnancy won’t just disappear. Not for weeks or months. But I also want to support him… and more.
“Can I think on it?” His gaze drops as he nods. “Let you know soon.” I rise from the chair and bend to kiss his hair. “You do paperwork. I’ve got the floor.”
After depositing the chair back in its place, I head for the door. Just as I reach for the knob, Micah’s voice stops me. “Peyton?” The rough scrape of his voice fiercely hugs my heart.
I pinch my eyes for two breaths before peering at him over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.” My brows scrunch. “Even if you don’t say yes, this” —he gestures at the now vacant space beside him— “I needed it.”
“Sorry it took me so long.” I unlock the door and twist the knob. “Talk to you in a bit.” And then I walk out.
Karaoke Night is in full swing. Beer pours from the taps and fruity cocktails fill fancy glasses. Laughter and cheers and the occasional perfectly tuned voice belts out over the sound system. Since we made the changes and Ani has advertised the hell out of Monday through Thursday events, the bar has seen an uptick in guests and income.
After another circuit around the club, I help Mable and Kaylynn behind the bar. The next two hours bring interesting versions of Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” and Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know.” The one to grab everyone’s attention was the middle-aged woman dancing provocatively while singing Madonna’s “Like A Virgin.”
Yeah… I will never unsee that.
The crowd starts to thin as the evening wears on. Most people need to get home for decent sleep before work tomorrow. Mable and Kaylynn start cleaning up behind the bar and I help clean tables on the main floor. With the majority of the work done, I leave Charity to finish up while I check on Micah.
After a light knock, I enter the office. Micah sits studiously behind the desk, entering invoices. It takes him a minute to look up from the screen. But when he does, he rewards me with a smile I haven’t seen in weeks.
Damn, I missed that smile.
“Almost done?” I ask.
“One more after this. Everything good on the floor?”
“Mmhm. Should be able to close on time.”
The urge to laugh at our avoidance of whether or not we will meet after work takes center stage. I bite the inside of my cheek and resist.
“About after…” Micah, on the other hand, comes right out with it.
“I’ll come over.” Feet away, I catch the stars in his irises as they glimmer. Just from my agreement. Who knew Micah Reed’s soft spot was the girl he picked on as a teenager? Certainly not me. “But only if food is involved.”
“Bossy,” he teases. That he jokes at all is a step in the right direction. “Think I like you bossy.”
Well, that shifted quick. If the erratic thump beneath my sternum is any indication, I rather enjoy his response. I miss our banter. The constant teasing. And the way his eyes eat me alive.
I shrug a shoulder. “What can I say… I like taking charge.”
“Hmm. You in charge sounds… fun.” He licks his lower lip. “I’ll order food as we leave and have it delivered.”
Narrowing my eyes, I point a finger. “No weird shit.”
“Says the woman who eats pineapple on her pizza.”
“What’s wrong with pineapple on pizza?”
“It’s a fruit,” he says as if that concludes the debate.
“Technically, tomatoes are fruit too. And you smear that shit all over the crust. So…” My lips pucker and brows lift. Let’s hear your response now, fruit boy.
“Fine, I concede.” I give him a snide smile and he sticks out his tongue. “And I promise nothing weird.”
“Good.” I start for the door and stop just as I step through. “I’ll finish up out here. Then we can close up.”
Before he answers, I head down the hall and back into the club. Most people have left and the few that linger appear to be finishing their drinks. Karaoke is being packed up as tables get shifted for tomorrow night’s Bar Olympics.
The last of the stragglers leave and I lock the door. Mable, Charity, and Kaylynn wrap up the last of their closing duties and wish me good night as they head out the back together. The overhead and bar lights go black as I flip off switches. My heels clap down the hall as I head to the office.
Behind the desk, Micah scrolls on his cell phone and doesn’t see me straight away. I lean against the doorframe and, for a moment, take him in.
The last two weeks have been rough, for him more so than me. Guilt still eats at me for ignoring him so long. But then I recall Reese and Aunt Leanne telling me to do what felt best for my well-being. If I wasn’t strong enough to handle the situation, there was no way I could deal with it and stand strong beside Micah. I needed to work through some things in my own head. Decide whether or not it was possible for me to take this on. To date and stand beside a man who may or may not become a father to someone else’s unborn child.
In the end, I changed my viewpoint. Looked at the entire scenario as an outsider.
Nowadays, people have children outside of wedlock all the time. Most of those people aren’t in committed relationships. Some try a relationship for the sake of the child, but end up parting ways. Sometimes, what is best for the child isn’t always the parents together. Especially if love doesn’t exist between them. A forced relationship only adds more stress—for the parents and child.
This realization changed everything. Just wish it didn’t take me so long to figure it out.
“Ready?”
Micah looks up from his phone. A soft, lopsided smile dons his face, and my heart rate spikes. God, I missed his smiles.
“Yep.” He nods, taps the screen, then locks his phone. “Just ordered food. Should arrive about the same time as us.” His voice is still scratchy, but less melancholy than hours ago.
I shuffle into the office and dig my purse from the desk drawer. “Perfect. ’Cause I’m starving.”
Rising from the desk, Micah turns off the computer monitor. I flip off the light as we walk out. The trek to our cars is short, but filled with silence. A comfortable silence that has been missing between us for too many days.
“Drive safe.” He leans in and I stop breathing as he presses his lips to my forehead. “See you at the house.”
“’Kay.” It’s the only word I manage to get past my lips as he ambles to his truck. My heart squeezes a little tighter and I take it as a sign.
This may be the best thing—a relationship with Micah—to happen to me. Or I purchased my own one-way ticket to hell. Hopefully, it isn’t the latter.