Glancing down, I realize my texts are opened up to the ones between Robert and me. The last few are innocent messages. Telling me he knows the gala will be amazing. That he’s ordered specific champagne for the politicians he’s invited to the event so he can rub elbows with them.

With a numbing prick in my hand, I can’t text him that I’m going to get a test. The chill runs from the tip of my fingers all the way to my heart.

When I told him about the pregnancy years ago, he was happy. He was genuinely happy. Until I told him about Brody.

It’s complicated is … such an underused statement.

Picking at my nails I decide I’ll order the test, Brody will want to take it and that’s all I need really. With the realization that I’ll know definitively who the father is, I try to swallow but my throat is tight. Opening up the cabinet drawer, I take out the Advil, listening to the bottle rattle and take out three. I down them with my coffee before ordering the test on my phone once and for all.

I didn’t ask Brody to stay last night, but I also didn’t ask him to leave. And he stayed.

That is my plan in all of this, even if it feels like it’s tearing me up on the inside. I won’t ever ask a man to stay, but I can’t imagine ever asking either of the two of them to leave.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Bridget’s voice surprises me from behind and I’m quick to turn around and smile. Her little baby voice is full of worry until I boop her on her nose and tell her good morning.

“Mommy’s allergies are acting up this morning,” I say, lying to her and scrunch my nose.

She makes a sniffling sound while pulling at the hem of her Paw Patrol pink nightgown and climbing onto her seat for breakfast.

With my back to her, I pull myself together and get out a bowl and Cheerios before she even has a chance to tell me she wants cereal for breakfast. I already know she does. My girl loves her milk.

Me with my coffee and her with her cereal, we sit at the table like we do every morning, but today is so much different.

“Mommy loves you more than anyone, you know that, right?” I ask her and she doesn’t bother looking up as she slurps her milk and nods at the same time. I tell her, “More than anyone in the whole wide world, I love you the most.”

Brody

Charlie’s is never empty. That’s one thing I have learned about this small town. And the two roast beef sandwiches I’m waiting on are one of the many reasons why. I don’t know who Charlie is, but the restaurant in his name makes a damn good meal.

Even from the patio, I can faintly hear the sounds of power saws from down the street. That would be the granite counter being fitted for the bar tops. Griffin and I decided this morning that one thing is clear: we’re not in competition with Charlie’s. No sandwiches, salads and chef’s specials that involve homemade bread.

We’re going to offer a different menu, more pub-like and less comfort food. We definitely need fried pickles. That’s a given. I’m drawn back to the bar where I first met Magnolia. Something like that. That’s what I want. And Griffin is easygoing enough to agree to it all. Although he pointed out if we don’t get the legalities sorted out, it’s going to be a BYOB situation for us, and no one goes into a pub expecting not to get a tall glass at the bar.

“Brody, right?” A masculine voice from behind me catches my attention. The afternoon breeze is cooler than it’s been. Fall is slipping into the color of the trees lining the sidewalk too. Still, the suit jacket Robert wears seems … unnecessary. The T-shirt I’m wearing is just fine for this weather. Even if it is a little colder than it’s been.

“Robert,” I answer him back by speaking his name and hold out my hand. He’s got a firm shake, one I can respect although I don’t know what to think about him. Even though he’s as tall as me, his build is slighter. His proper haircut and clean shave make him look slightly older too.

“Nice to formally meet you.”

“I think we were supposed to meet the other day for business.” I recall Griffin saying he was the one we were supposed to meet with for the alcohol license.

“Yes, that’s right,” Robert says, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Your new bar is the talk of the town.” I almost question him further about it, but he adds, “Among other things.”

“And what would those other things be?” I ask him, knowing damn well he’s referring to Magnolia. A slight movement to my right makes me glance back to see a to-go bag has been placed down beside me. Mary Sue, the young waitress who took my order, has already turned around, leaving the two of us to ourselves.

Tags: W. Winters, Willow Winters Tequila Rose Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net