I do love presents though, and I suppose there’s no harm in taking a peek. Reaching in, my fingers pinch around the first thing they touch.
A massive bag of Jolly Ranchers?
“Kate said the ginger candies were disgusting, but apparently Jolly Ranchers can help when you feel nauseous, too. Plus, it’s a bit less obvious, since you don’t want everybody to know yet.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching me hesitantly.
I swallow hard. Ironic how the mention of anti-nausea candies makes me want to hurl. “Yeah, Kate’s right.Terrible. I threw those ginger candies out the window somewhere on the highway.”
Continuing on, I find bath bombs, Epsom salts, belly butter, an eye mask, sparkling grape juice, junk food… It’s like I’m working my way through Mary Poppins’ magical bag with how much stuff he brought. Red’s watching with a smile. Giving me the same look I remember my dad having on Christmas morning when I was a kid—eager for my reaction while expecting absolutely nothing in return.
“Red, what the actual fuck. This is too much. I can’t accept all this. I told you, we aren’t friends and we aren’t together. It’s really inappropriate for you to buy me presents.”
“Well, I can’t take it back and I don’t know anybody else who can use whatever the hell belly butter is. Anyway, Kate made the shopping list, so pretend it’s from her, if that makes you feel less weird about it.”
“Thank you.” Stupid pregnancy hormones. I hate that I have to blink up to the ceiling to stop myself from crying. What bizarre timeline am I living in where Red has the ability to do something that makes me feel anything other than exasperation?
“I’ll let you get to sleep now. I thought you should have this stuff sooner rather than later.” His hands run along the tops of his denim-clad, tree trunk thighs as he moves to stand.
“Maybe we should swap numbers? So you don’t wake me up with another surprise visit. Plus, you know, in case anything happens that I need to tell you about.” I hold my phone out, Red quickly following suit. With a few simple taps of a finger, I have a phone number I wouldn’t have ever expected to need or want.
Popping a green apple Jolly Rancher into my mouth, I bus my last table of the night and try to ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut. It’s not nausea because the sour candies are working surprisingly well—granted, I’ll likely have thirty cavities by the time I pop this kid out, but that’s a later-Cassidy problem. No, the uneasiness is because this might be the first Friday night in history where none of the Wells Ranch cowboys came into the bar.
“I still can’t believe you made this.” Shelby swivels on the bar stool, carefully examining the tooled leather purse. Her fingers glide across the floral design and a smile lights her face; the look makes the hours I spent worthwhile. “I wish you’d sell them at rodeos and stuff.”
“Nah, strictly gifts for friends and family. Sorry again about giving you your birthday present so late, by the way. I don’t have the energy to do anything, and I’ve been so sick. But Red gave me a big bag of Jolly Ranchers,”—I produce a handful from my pocket to show her—“and they surprisingly help a lot with the morning sickness. That’s the reason I was able to finish the purse today.”
“Hold on.” Shelby sets the leather bag down and narrows her eyes in my direction. “He’s bringing you presents? You left that part out when you said you told him about being the dad.”
“Kate Wells told him to bring stuff, I guess. I told him I didn’t want it—I don’t want anything from him—but he wouldn’t listen.”
She pulls a face. “You’re mad about him giving you presents?”
“Not mad. Just… I didn’t even know if I wasevergoing to tell him the baby is his. I only did it because he showed up at my house asking and I’m not a complete monster. Not because I want him to be a dad.”
“Like it or not, he is the dad. Sperm donor, at the very least. I say you roll with it. Let him spoil you, if that’s what he wants to do. Shit, I’d be fully taking advantage of this. You basically own his soul now. Use and abuse that man.”
“Lord help whoever knocks you up one day.” I laugh. “I’ve known him since we were kids—this is all bullshit. He’s absolutely not the dad type.”
“Worst case scenario, this is a short-lived thing and he suddenly disappears one day. You didn’t want him around in the first place, so I fail to see a downside.”
“Yeah…”
Except I know what it’s like to have a parent around sporadically. I know what it’s like to have somebody be present in your life and then leave without a word. The constant wondering if you did something to make them go. If there’s anything you could’ve done to make them want to stay. My mom left when I was one. Turned up for three and four. Disappeared. Came back when I was six. Left a week before my seventh birthday. So on and so forth, right through to when she asked to have my birthday money to buy music festival tickets when I was thirteen. Dad lost his shit, andpoof, she vanished for good. Now I have a secret burner account to keep tabs on her social media—still wondering from time to time if she misses me. If she ever missed me.
“Anyway, enough about him. Are we still on for the indoor rodeo?” Shelby leans on the bar, watching me close out the till. “I can pickyou up.”
Shit.Going to the indoor rodeo an hour away in Sheridan sounded like an amazing idea a couple months ago. But Cass then and Cass now are twoverydifferent people.
My shoulders drop with a groan. “I don’t know, Shelb. I’m not sure I’m up to it. I’d much rather binge-watchGossip Girland fall asleep by seven p.m. on my nights off.”
“Girl, you only have a few months before you’ll be stuck at home all the damn time. You should get out and enjoy yourself.” She bats her eyelashes at me. “And in the spring, I’m going to be so sad without my rodeo partner. We need to make the most of it.Please. For me.”
“Ugh, fine. Pick me up. But we’re not staying out late.”
I lick my lips, sucking the ever-loving life out of my watermelon-flavoured candy and trying to ignore the man eating a hot dog with fried onions just behind us in the rodeo stands. If I dwell on it, the poor woman in front of me is going to be wearing the chocolate milkshake currently sloshing in my stomach.
“I always get so nervous when guys we know are up.” Shelby grimaces and points across the arena to the bucking chutes. Specifically, pointing to where Denver Wells is seated on the back of a saddle bronc, readying himself for the gate to open.
“Oh, for sure,” I mumble, my eyes snagging on something that makes me significantly more nervous than Denny riding a bucking horse.
