Sweet Nothing(74)

“Is she still working so much? That can’t be good.”

“No,” I said simply. I’d convinced her to cut back at work because the stress seemed to make things worse. At first, Avery was resistant, until she saw how terrified I was that something may happen to her and our daughter.

My mind went to Kayla and how she may have looked today, on her twenty-third birthday. A black cloud had always hovered over March sixth, but today it seemed worse knowing that soon I would have my own little girl to look after. I couldn’t help but worry that just because Avery hadn’t experienced the extent of my bad luck, Penny might.

I wondered if she would take after me, dark hair and light eyes, reminding me of Kayla. Maybe even curly tendrils like the ones I used to tug on and laugh when they sprung back into place.

A chill ran up my spine, thinking of those curls being wet and sprawled across the grass.

“You stalking me now?”

I glanced over my shoulder as Hope slid onto the stool next to me, pulling her pink hair up into a high, messy ponytail. It was now fuchsia instead of Pepto-Bismol. She was still wearing her white T-shirt and black slacks for her waitressing job.

“I was here first. That’s not how stalking works.”

I held up a finger to Ginger, letting her know I needed another beer. She noticed Hope and arched an eyebrow.

“I’ll get her drink, too,” I said, feeling the alcohol burn through my veins. “That doesn’t mean this is a date.”

“Of course not. Thanks,” Hope said, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed a break, and I remembered this place when you told me the story about how you started dating Avery.” She sighed. “I love that story.”

“Where’s Toby?” I asked.

“Cinda has him. That woman is a godsend. Thanks for the heads-up. Toby loves her.”

I bobbed my head in agreement, peeling back the label of my beer. “She’s great with kids.”

“And thanks for letting me use your dryer. I think I’m going to have to try to find another one at the secondhand. It’s a huge pain in the ass lugging all our wet laundry to the laundromat with Toby in tow.”

“No problem.”

“Is it weird that he has more clothes than I do? I have five white shirts for work, two pairs of jeans, six T-shirts, two pairs of cotton shorts, two nightgowns, one bar shirt, one black dress, four pairs of socks, two bras, and ten pairs of panties.” She made a face. “You’re officially poor when you have an exact count of every article of clothing you own.”

“I prefer to call it frugal.”

“What’s wrong?” Hope bumped her shoulder against mine. I swayed slightly on my stool. “You worried about being a daddy?”

I shook my head, looking down at the wooden surface in front of me. It wasn’t me I was worried about. My gut twisted, feeling like I was betraying Avery just by my thoughts.

“I’ve seen you in action under pressure, Josh. You’re going to do just fine. And if you need help … well, I owe you one or fifty.”

Hope’s words didn’t help, and the tightening in my chest was becoming vise-like.

Ginger placed two shots and a fresh beer in front of me, her eyes darting back and forth between Hope and me.

“Josh,” Ginger said, warning in her voice. “Maybe I should call you a cab.”

I ignored her. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Didn’t even plan on it. I glanced over at Hope, who smiled at me the way Avery used to.

Ginger left us for the opposite end of the bar, glancing at me once in a while between tending other customers.

“So, if you’re not anxious about parenthood, what is it?”

“Do you believe in curses?” I asked, taking a sip from my Budweiser.

“I curse all the f*cking time,” she joked, causing me to laugh.

“I’ll drink to that.”

Hope held up her tiny glass and waited for me to do the same. Clinking them together, I tilted my head back and poured the liquor down my throat, no longer flinching at the harsh flavor.

Hope’s face screwed, and she waved her hand in front of her nose. “So … did you steal some treasure you shouldn’t have touched, and now pirates are out to get you?”

“Something like that.” I took another sip. “I dunno. It just feels like no matter what I do—”

“Stop doing this to yourself. You have everything, and you feel like you don’t deserve it. Am I right? So now you’re looking for some defect, some flaw that you can blame when you run to St. Louis.”

“St. Louis?” I cocked an eyebrow, taking a long pull from my bottle.

“Isn’t that where all the deadbeat fathers run off to?” She twirled her empty shot glass in a circle, resting her chin on the heel of her hand. “I’m sorry. You’re not him. Far from it. I’m not sure you’re appreciated for that.”

For a second, I didn’t feel like such a f*cking outsider in my own life.

“That guy was a moron,” I said.

“You don’t have to tell me. I lived with him.” She giggled as she took the bottle from my hand and finished it off.

My laughter died in my throat when I glanced past Ginger, seeing a familiar face at the end of the bar. Carissa Ashton was watching me intently.