“Good Lord, what the fuck is happening there, Harp?” I asked.
“Hell if I know. Emma knocked Maggie’s purse off the counter so she could have a stage. Now she’s grabbing all the shit that fell out. Why do women carry so much around with them anyway? Damn, that would be heavy after a while. Holy…” Max’s voice stopped.
“Harp? I asked.
“…”
“Max?” A nervous feeling washed over me. I could hear the girls in the background, but couldn’t make out what was going on. Jake came to a stop in front of me.
“Holy fuck,” Max whispered.
“Max, yo, Max!” I called, putting up a hand to stop Jake from saying anything. “What the fuck is going on? Jake and I are heading back on the road in just a minute.”
“Man, I need you to get home. I’m going to need some testosterone around here,” Max murmured. “I think our Maggie might be pregnant.”
A sound like I’d never heard came out of me. What in the literal hell had he just said? My voice creaked out a quiet, “What?”
Max quietly spoke. “Well, from what I can tell, Emma picked up a pregnancy test that fell out of Maggie’s bag. Now, Maggie’s sobbing in Emma’s arms. You draw your own conclusions. I’ve drawn mine.”
I cleared my throat. It was a damn miracle that I hadn’t had a heart attack. “Text me if Maggie goes anywhere. I’m on my fucking way.” With that, I hung up.
Holy hell.
Jake stood in front of me, looking me over with what I could only assume was apprehension. “How much of that did you hear?” I asked him.
“Enough to suspect that our conversation from earlier just got a whole lot more interesting.”
I ignored his shit-eating grin. “I’m headed straight home, no stops.”
“Understood.”
I swung onto my bike, pulled my helmet on, and pointed it in the direction of home. Maggie. Pregnant. My God. She might have ignored me for the past five weeks, but clearly the time for games was over.
Fuck.
The next sixty miles sped by without much thought. Jake had pulled ahead of me leaving the gas station, likely to give me something to focus on. I followed his bike with the wordpregnantdancing through my mind. What the hell did it mean? Clearly I could propose to Maggie tonight, but that would likely result with my head on a platter. Not the way to go.
I thought back to two months ago, when we were actually talking. Maggie had shared the summer road trip she had planned. Would she still do that? My gut clenched, thinking ahead. She planned on moving too. Did that mean I’d only see my kid on holidays?
Deep breaths. I was getting ahead of myself. I needed to talk to the woman. How long had she known? Did she plan to tell me? I needed to know what her mindset was before we talked. Knowing Maggie, she could spook and decide she was moving tomorrow. Just the thought made me want to wrap her up and never let her go.
Jake’s signal popped on to take us on the two-lane highway to Highland. Following him, my thoughts drifted to the brewery. Fuck. Canning. My stomach rolled. With a kid coming, what were my expenses going to look like now? Maggie had health insurance, right? So no big expenses for the next few months at least. I racked my brain, trying to think through what kind of financial plan I’d need for this. College savings accounts? Whose insurance would cover our baby? What did babies cost once they were born? They didn’t eat food for a while, right? Diapers were likely as expensive as fuck.
I felt like I was breaking out in a cold sweat under my flannel. Jake eased on down the road, and I knew then that our friendship was going to take a hit. We were supposed to sign the loan for the canning operation on Monday. I’d wait to hear from Maggie, but I think that was going to have to be put on hold. Damn.
The turn off the highway for Max’s farm was about a mile before town. As Jake passed the turn, he raised his arm up in the air in acknowledgment. I’d deal with his disappointment tomorrow once I figured out what in the hell was going on in my life. The miles to Max’s were eaten up quickly as I scanned the flat prairie for Maggie’s car, wondering if she’d stayed at Max’s or had already headed to her place. The sun was getting closer to the horizon, and farms dotted the fields here and there. Heading down the road, Max’s farm was to the left, and I turned in, coming up the drive.
I pulled my bike to a stop and looked to the back porch. Max was sitting in an Adirondack chair, feet up on the rail, appearing to be waiting for me. His eyes followed me as I moved up the sidewalk and sank down in the chair next to him as if my legs couldn’t keep me up for one more minute.
Without commentary, Max passed me a beer. I glanced at the label, Zombie Dust, a beer Max had introduced me to a month or so ago. Staring at the label, I said, “Jake and I stopped at this place on our trip.”
Max looked over, then back to the prairie. “3 Floyds?”
I nodded.
“You really want to talk about breweries right now?” he asked.
I closed my eyes, tipping my head back. “She still here?”
