Autumn Night Whiskey (Tequila Rose 2)

“Mama?” We both turn around and find Bridget in the doorway, her bedhead in a cloud around her face and her cheeks pink from a good long nap. I hold my arms out to her and she lazily makes her way to me, wrapping her arms around my leg. In the end, she’ll be the most important person in my life. No question about that. No matter what happens, I have to do right by her.

“Look at your daughter,” says Renee, reaching out to pat Bridget’s hair. “If you ask me, you’re doing great, babe. Just keep going.”

Robert

Three years ago

“You look good with a baby in your arms,” I tell her, letting the words slip out. I didn’t mean to, since it looks like sleep will take her any minute.

Magnolia’s lips slip up into a beautiful smile, something I haven’t seen her wear in far too long. “She’s perfect,” she murmurs. There’s a darkness under her eyes that tells me she hasn’t slept.

“Want me to hold her?” I offer. “I can take her if you want to go to bed.”

“I’m here for that,” Renee comments from the kitchen and I look over my shoulder to find her drying a bottle with a towel. I make a mental note to bring dishcloths next time. The list of things Magnolia needs is entirely too long. But sleep is evidently the first item on that list.

“I forgot you were here,” I say and grin at her, but she doesn’t return the humor. There’s a distrust in her glare I don’t understand. We’ve always been friends.

“If you guys could,” Magnolia says as she stands, the little one still firmly on her chest.

“Let me.” I’m quick to help her up and then take Bridget from her. She’s fast asleep, a delicate little bundle.

“I can—”

“It’s fine,” I say, cutting off Renee and reminding her that my cousin had a baby last year. “I know what I’m doing,” I add and again, Renee’s response is cold.

My stomach drops, wondering if she knows. Bridget’s only ten days old, and no one would know by looking, but she’s not mine. Those little fingers that rest on my chest and the small coo as she wriggles into place … there isn’t one bit that belongs to me.

She’s not my daughter and judging by the way Renee reacts to Magnolia passing her infant to me, she knows.

“Just for a quick nap, then I’ll try to pump again,” Magnolia says but it’s muddled with a yawn.

Magnolia offers me a simper, looking like she might say something else. It’s hard to swallow as I wait to find out what it is. Especially with the shine in her eyes and that look of hers I know well. It’s a look she used to give me back before this mess happened.

Whatever it is, though, she swallows it down, her gaze dropping to her stained nightshirt instead. “I should probably shower and change too,” she comments with a hint of a laugh and then kisses the top of her little girl’s head.

Before I can reply, Renee pipes in with, “You may feel better then.” The tension between us only grows as I take my spot on the love seat, with Bridget resting, still sleeping, and Renee moves to sit on the chair across from me.

The floor creaks as Magnolia leaves us, saying, “Thanks, you guys.”

“So, what have you been up to?” Renee asks me, and again her tone is off.

“Just work,” I answer, searching her gaze for a hint of whatever she knows.

“She’s having a rough time right now.”

“I know.”

It’s so quiet, the click of the air coming on is the only thing that can be heard. An anxious heat slips through me.

“I know what you did.”

I don’t answer at first, my lungs stilling and I wait for her to elaborate. There’s so much I’ve done that’s wrong, I don’t know what she’s specifically getting at. “Is that right?” I finally ask when she doesn’t tell me what she’s referring to.

“You waited to see if the baby was yours or not.”

My hand instinctively splays across Bridget’s back. She’s so small, the span of my palm is larger than her back.

“You know you’re the dad.” Renee’s sarcastic smile comes with a huff of ridicule. She doesn’t know. It hurts to watch the disappointment shining back at me in her eyes. She swallows harshly, the sound filling the room. “You think occasionally letting her get a nap in is enough?”

I can’t respond. Half of me wants to tell her the truth; the other half prays she’ll tell Magnolia what she thinks. In the moment of silence, I imagine Magnolia coming to me, demanding for me to be here and to be in their lives. It would be perfect. She would let me love her again. If she thinks I’m the father, maybe she’d give me another chance. I would do it all right. I swear I would. Even if we are so young, I promise I’d be a good father.