Baby Come Back by Andrea Smith
CHAPTER 1
That was that I decided. Tristan had simply stormed out of the apartment. Tylar had made some herbal tea for me, tucked me into my very empty bed and assured me that everything would be okay. She had made a bet that Tristan would be back in my bed by morning. My BFF was going to lose that bet. That much I was sure of with Tristan. I knew Tylar meant well, but she hadn’t been there to observe Tristan earlier, at the club.
I lay awake in our bed replaying what had happened earlier. It was all so fuzzy for me now; it had transpired as if I was an observer watching it happen, piece by piece, frame by frame. It was supposed to be a beautiful day for Tristan and me. We had been closer than ever since the news of the impending birth of our baby.
Tristan had always had a sweetness about him; now it was in high gear. My God, it was all that he ever talked about with the exception of us getting married. He was being a stickler on that.
He was vigilant about my diet and health; he insisted I cut my hours at work until at least the second trimester (that was his compromise) as I was prepared to work right up until the time I delivered.
When we made love, which was often, he was even more tender than usual but still made sure that I was satisfied with everything that he did.
Today had started out as perfect as the other ones had been lately. I was cooking something special for Tristan. We were going to have a late supper together when he got home. Then mid-afternoon I had received that phone call from Ian. He was drunk.
“Hey Giner,” he had halfway slurred, “Aren’t you going to congratulate my impending fatherhood?”
“Ian? What the hell?”
“Seems like my essence is just fine, love. I shared the good news with your boyfriend. I don’t expect I’ll be hearing any congratulatory remarks from that one when you squeeze my baby out of your womb in a few months.”
“Ian, I don’t know what the f*ck you are talking about or what the f*ck you have done, but I swear--”
“Don’t swear, love. It’s not ladylike. I don’t want our baby hearing that kind of talk. Got to run, Giner. Cheers!”
I had quickly pulled up Tristan’s number on my cell. He didn’t answer. Shit! What the hell had Ian done?
I had grabbed my keys and coat; instructed Trey as to when to take my casserole out and told him to enjoy it with Tylar. He had looked a bit puzzled. I told him I was going to the club. No need for further explanation.
Once I had arrived at the club, I immediately went to the office to find Tristan. He wasn’t there; his coat wasn’t hanging on the door. As I started to leave the office, someone had tapped on the door. It was Jo Anna, the first shift bar manager.
“Jo Jo, do you know where Tristan might be?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Gina. Sit down for a moment, will you?”
(Oh God! This has to be bad - really bad!)
“I don’t know where Tristan went when he stormed out, but I do know why he left. It was a pretty awful scene in here earlier.”
“Let me guess,” I had interrupted her, “Ian stirred up some shit?”
“That is putting it mildly,” she had replied. “Gina, I feel weird getting into your business like this; I’m uncomfortable repeating what Ian said to Tristan.”
“Please Jo Anna, I’m a big girl. Let it rip.”
“Well, Ian showed up here this afternoon and made it a point to have a few drinks at the upstairs bar before he came down just as Tristan was stocking the main bar down here. He ordered a drink and Tristan served him. Then Ian started in about the baby you’re expecting and how you and he made love right around the time the baby was conceived, and --”
“Whoa, whoa, hold-up, Jo Jo. How would Ian have known any of this? Tristan and I haven’t exactly made it public knowledge outside of a few of the employees here.”
A look of irritation crossed her face.
“I’m pretty sure it was Johnny Four Fingers,” she had replied.
“Who?”
“I’m sorry; John Dealy, the new chef Tristan hired a month or so back.”
Then I remembered who she was referring to; the man had lost one of his fingers on his right hand while working at a pizza restaurant during college. Some of the other staff had nicknamed him ‘Johnny Four Fingers.’ Tristan had not been pleased about the nickname.
“So how does John know Ian?”
“Oh they met at the bar one evening after John was off work. You know John gossips worse than any female ever could. Ian bought him a couple of drinks and John spilled everything he knew, including the fact that you and Tristan were expecting and when.”
“Okay, so go on,” I had urged her.
“Well, Ian goes on about how he had a fertility test conducted because Shelly had wanted to make sure he wasn’t sterile if their relationship was to go any further. Ian hands an envelope to Tristan that was sealed with your condo address on it. He told him it was a piece of mail that he had picked up that day at your condo when he said, you know, that--” she had stumbled over her words.
“Yes, yes - go on,” I had said, waving my hand at her to skip ahead.
“Tristan opened it, read it, and then tossed it on the bar in front of Ian. I made myself scarce after that. I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation. The next thing I knew, Tristan had left the club.”