Chaser (Dive Bar #3)(21)

“You’ll be fine,” I said.

“You’re braver than me.” Andre pretended to shiver. “My cousin got ripped apart down there having her two. For some reason she felt the need to tell me about it in gory detail.”

Jesus. “Real sensitive, man. Also, you don’t have a vagina so I think you’re pretty safe.”

His gaze darted to Jean, remorse filling his eyes. “Shit. Sorry.”

“No problem.” Jean shrugged. “Everyone has stories. I’ve heard lots of them.”

“My sister said once you’ve got your baby in your arms, you don’t even remember all that,” said Natasha. “But still, go for the epidural. She said it made all the difference.”

Jean took a sip of juice, apparently unperturbed. “Oh, I’m planning a natural birth. Drug-free.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve done a lot of research and I think it’s the best option for me and my baby.”

The whites of Natasha’s eyes were like twin moons. “You are brave. I’d be yelling for painkillers as soon as the first contraction hit. Actually forget that, I’d book a nice neat cesarean.”

A trace of a frown creased Jean’s brow. “I think recovering from surgery and dealing with a newborn would be extraordinarily difficult.”

“My mom would help,” said Natasha.

“Yeah, but that’s precious bonding time you’re giving up with your baby.”

“I’ll make it up later. Better that than the alternative.”

Jean raised her brows and shoulders. “Everyone needs to decide what’s best for themselves. It’s great that we’ve got options these days, right?”

“Right,” I interjected.

“Absolutely,” said Natasha. “But you don’t want to be too set in your decision-making. That’s where Isla went wrong. Their whole plan went out the window. Like someone had just tossed a grenade into their life.”

A tinge of doubt crept into Jean’s frown. Dammit.

“Not that I’m planning on having children anytime soon,” said Natasha, shaking it off. “I’ve got other things I want to do with my life.”

Again with that not-quite-right smile from Jean.

“Anyway,” I said, leaning back against the counter. “Enough about babies. Why don’t we talk about something—”

“Personally, I think drugs are your friend,” said Andre, wiping sweat from his brow. Even the Elvis hairdo seemed to be wilting thanks to the heat from his polyester suit.

And honestly, I could hit something. How often did Jean have to put up with having everyone’s opinion shoved down her throat?

“Drugs are not always your friend,” I said. “This wisdom comes care of years of experience behind a bar. What kind of dumbass talk is that?”

“All right,” he amended. “In some situations they are definitely your friend. I mean, babies are tiny. But still, when you think of where they have to exit…”

“Again with you not having a vagina or a clue.”

Andre chuckled. “And you have these things?”

“Is the costume confusing you? How much have you had to drink exactly, man?”

“Relax, Eric,” said Jean in a low voice, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “It’s fine.”

Andre gave me a look like “what the fuck is your problem.” Idiot. A muscle in my jaw had started to tic, and my eyes could not possibly have been friendly in return. It’s not easy to pull off an intimidating glare when you’re dressed like Wednesday Addams, but I’m pretty sure I managed it.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” said Andre, grabbing his drink off the counter.

Natasha perked up. Her gaze might have flicked to Jean squeezing my hand. “I’ll come too.”

“Great.”

Off they went together, Andre and my supposed date and yet another might-have-been future girlfriend. Terrific.

Meanwhile, Jean just looked at me.

Next she attempted a smile. “That was a little awkward.”

“People and their fucking opinions,” I grumbled. “I’m so sorry about that crap they said. Maybe I should go have a word with Andre.”

“No, don’t say anything. They didn’t mean any harm. And it’s not your fault.” She sighed, short fingernails tapping a hectic beat against her side. “Really, you don’t need to defend me. I’m fine.”

“I know, but—”

“I’m fine.”

“But—”

“Eric.”

Okay, so she didn’t want me to try and fix it. Anything I said at this point would probably be wrong, so I drank my beer. And Nell said I never learned anything.

“I can be a bit of a control freak, so what?” She shrugged. “No one thinks it’s weird to be meticulous about your finances, but invest time and energy into seriously planning the delivery of your child—one of the biggest events in your life—and people think you’re crazy.”

I kept my mouth shut.

“If they’d really bothered me, though, I’d have shut it down or walked away. But at least they weren’t rude about it,” she said, staring off at nothing. “Anyway, it kind of comes with the territory. You know, I’ve had complete strangers stop me at the grocery store to lecture me about things or try to feel up my bump.”