“We have to talk.” He meets my gaze and I’d swear his is filled with regret.
“You think?” I scowl. “Well, we can’t do it here.”
“I’ll wait for you to finish work,” he says quietly. “Can you get me a burger, please?”
“Cheese?” I ask automatically.
“Everything. Cheese, bacon, the works.”
“Got it.” I turn on my heel and practically fly into the back, running right into Brent.
“If he makes you cry again, I won’t think twice about taking him out back,” he says somberly.
I can’t help but smile.
Brent is as big as a house but as gentle as a lamb. I have no doubt he could put a hurting on Tate—he’s built like the side of a mountain—but that wouldn’t solve anything. It just warms my heart to know my friends have my back.
“He’s fine,” I say quietly. “We have to talk. Even though it’s going to be a difficult conversation.”
The gang here at the restaurant knows I’m pregnant simply because the first time a smell made me gag, I ran straight to the restroom. It didn’t take long for Brent and Sylvie to guess, so it would have been ridiculous to deny it. Luckily, they’ve been incredibly supportive, so it’s nice knowing I’m not alone. Even though I feel alone most of the time.
“You should go home,” Dolly says around seven thirty.
Tate finished his dinner and ordered a slice of pie, but he finished that too and now he’s just drinking coffee and doing something on his phone. We haven’t said more than ten words to each other in the two hours he’s been here, but I’m busy. And hurt. And frustrated. And a million other emotions that I can’t spell out because I don’t want to start crying in front of the customers.
“Go home,” Dolly repeats firmly. “It’s slowed down. It’s Monday, and you’re not supposed to be working anyway. Go on.”
I want to protest but that will just delay the inevitable.
He’s here.
We have to talk.
We’re going to talk, whether I want to or not.
But I’m stronger now.
As Dolly predicted, I’ve finally started moving past the shock and have reached the acceptance stage. I’m still not happy about it but I’m actively preparing for life as a single mom. If Tate wants to help support his child, that will be a bonus, but I’m not expecting anything.
“I’m ready to go,” I say abruptly after I’ve gotten my things.
“Okay. Should I follow you home? I have a rental car.”
“I guess.” I shrug and walk toward the parking lot with him on my heels.
“Summer.” He reaches for my arm once we’re outside. “Hey.”
I stop and turn. “What?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“You do.” I stand there, hoping he doesn’t see how exhausted I am. How scared. How much he hurt me with his behavior. Like I got pregnant on purpose or something.
“I reacted badly. I’m really sorry.” He reaches out and runs his knuckles across my cheek. “But I’m here now. I want to make it up to you, talk about what to do going forward. You’re not alone, Summer.”
A torrent of emotion floods me and tears fill my eyes.
Dolly and Brent and Sylvie already made sure I knew I wasn’t alone, but hearing it from him is different. It’s important. Because he’s my baby’s father and even though I’m prepared to be a single mom, I don’t want to be one.
