Straight Up Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor #2)(13)

The truth is, despite Ellie’s concern that the life of a single mom would be too hard for Ava, I know without a doubt that Ava would embrace the challenge. And I know she was right when she told me she wouldn’t regret a child. My only concern boils down to the timing. Is this something she’d want to do if Harrison’s wife weren’t pregnant?

“I just wanted to check on things,” I say, unwilling to admit I came down here just to talk about her plans. “I thought I’d see how everyone’s liking my new white stout.”

Her eyes go wide. “Oh my God! I didn’t even know you tapped it.” She grabs a sampler glass and fills it halfway. “Do you mind?” she asks as she brings it to her lips.

“Of course not.”

She drinks half of the sample in one long swallow and closes her eyes. “Jesus, that’s good.”

Reason #2603 I’m in love with Ava McKinley: she gets good beer.

My family’s business is beer. Dad risked everything to start the family brewery. After years of brewing his own concoctions in the garage, he sold his share of his father’s construction company and founded Jackson Brews. My oldest brother, Brayden, is the face of the business now. He’s responsible for marketing and our distribution deals, as well as the ins and outs of turning our microbrewery into the sizable craft beer empire Dad dreamed it could be. I run the other face of the business—the Jackson Brews Brewpub—and am responsible for eighty percent of the new recipes with the Jackson Brews label. I love to toy with beer almost as much as I love to toy with food, so the job suits me, even if it isn’t anywhere near what I imagined I’d be doing with my computer science degree.

“You really like it?” I ask when she opens her eyes again.

“It’s smooth, but the flavor’s more interesting than the stuff we had from Grand Rapids. Seriously, you wouldn’t know it wasn’t a dark stout if you weren’t looking at it. Crazy!”

“Crazy good or just crazy different?”

“Crazy good,” she says.

Satisfied, I grin and reach around her for a snifter glass to pour my own. This stuff packs a punch at almost thirteen percent ABV—nothing as crazy as a shot of liquor, but strong enough that it should help me through this conversation. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

There’s a hesitation in her voice that makes me frown. “What? What happened?”

She searches my face, then shakes her head. “Nothing. Ellie came over and spoiled me with gifts, then we went to Ooh La La! and consumed irresponsible quantities of sugar and caffeine.”

“That’s what birthdays are for, right?”

“Right.” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth—an old habit that’s always put knots in my gut. “I ran into Myla Quincy while I was there.”

“She’s one of the other English teachers, right?”

She beams. “I’m always impressed that you can keep my coworkers straight.”

“It’s not like there are hundreds of you.” Some days I feel like I should thank her ex-husband for being such a prick. He makes me look like a fucking prince by comparison—not that my princely status ever got me real far with Ava.

“Myla told me the school’s doing layoffs. She was pretty shaken up, worried she’d be out of a job, and honestly, I was at first too.”

“Who can blame you?” I ask. “But you feel better now?”

She grimaces then nods. “Yeah—I mean, better about my own situation, at least. Myla might be screwed, though. I called Francine—the art teacher. She’s been there for twenty-five years and said they’ve always gone by seniority when they’ve had to do layoffs in the past. Nothing’s set in stone, of course, but since I’m the English teacher who’s been there the longest, it was good to hear.”

I release a breath. It would be criminal to lay off Ava. Not only is she an amazing teacher, I’ve watched her take troubled kids and help them funnel all of their energy into theater until they shared her passion. “When will you know for sure?”

She shrugs and swirls her beer in the sample glass. “I don’t know. There are only six weeks left in the school year. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they waited until the beginning of summer to make the cuts.”

“But you’re feeling okay?” I ask. “Not too worried?”

“Not too worried, but I’ll be sad to see anyone go.”

I nod. “I get that.”

“But my head was whirling from that news when I did something crazy.” She shakes her head. “It was impulsive, really, and I’m kind of freaking out now.”

I frown. Shit. Am I too late? Did she go to the sperm bank already? Don’t they have a waiting period or something?

Instead of revealing that I’m panicking inside, I try to keep it light. “Let me guess. You asked Mr. Mooney for some of his sperm.”

She scowls at the mention of her chauvinist principal and slugs me lightly in the chest. “You’re an ass.”

“Guilty as charged.” I laugh and take a pull of my porter. “But seriously, what’d you do?”

She takes a breath, then finishes the rest of her sample. “I blame Ellie,” she says. “She refused to leave my house until I did it. She almost made me late for work.”