ONE
FINLEY
“Thank you,”I say to my Uber driver, making sure to tip him well as I walk toward the employee entrance of Club Tilt. It was a short ride from the apartment I share with my coworkers, Cecilia and Phoebe, but he was very polite, and the air freshener didn’t make me want to puke my guts out, sobonus points for that. I was hoping to have enough money saved to buy myself a car by now, but between my recent medical bills and the fact that I’m about to be responsible for another human in five months, I don’t know how I’ll make it work.
Finding out I was pregnant was quite the shock. I was on birth control, and Eric and I always used condoms, but all it took was for one to break—during the same week I was trying some new herbal supplements because I had worked myself to exhaustion. My doctor said they could’ve interfered with the effectiveness of the pill, or that I’m just part of the one percent of women who conceive while taking it. Either way, I’mabout to be a mother very soon—and Iwillbe doing it on my own.
Telling Eric the news went worse than I ever could’ve imagined. I rehearsed in front of a mirror for days, pumping myself up for every possible reaction. But when the time came, and I actually spat the words out, I wished I hadn’t.
“Wait,” I said nervously as he reached for the hem of my T-shirt. He had invited me over for a late-night hookup after his basketball team, the Cleveland Vipers, won their playoff series. While he was raring and ready to go as soon as I came through the door, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the secret I was keeping from him. So, I decided to lay it all out on the table before things went further. “I have to tell you something.”
“Can it wait?” he asked, leaning in to kiss my neck. But I flattened my hands on his chest, holding him at bay. He rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated with my interference, but sat back against the couch cushions when he saw the seriousness in my expression. The words were right there on the tip of my tongue, but anxiety was like a giant hand over my mouth, refusing to let go long enough for me to spit them out. My fingers curled into my palms, nails digging half-moons into the damp flesh. The small bite of pain brought me back to reality, the sentence finally breaking through the air between us on a choked breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
His gaze went wide, silence hanging like a lead weight in the space around us as he processed. I hoped he would comfort me, since I was clearly freaking out. But any hope I had of him doing so died with the next words he spoke.
“It’s not mine.” His posture changed, pretending to be unaffected when I sucked in a surprised gasp. At first, I thought maybe he was joking, because we explicitly talked about our arrangement being exclusive. He knew I wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, just like he had promised not to, either. But by the way he looked at me so nonchalantly after being told he was going to be a dad, I knew he didn’t want any part of it.
“Yes, it is,” I replied, tears stinging at the backs of my eyes. We had only been seeing each other for about three months, but he knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t lie—especially not about something as big as being pregnant. “I haven’t been with anyone else, Eric. I wouldn’t do that.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, right. You meet hundreds of guys at the club every week. It was easy enough for me to take you home—who’s to say you don’t do that with all the other rich athletes who give you attention?”
My jaw dropped, the impact of his words like a semi-truck straight to the chest. In the time we’d been hanging out, he was never unkind. Then again, most of our interactions had led to no-strings-attached sex. He really didn’t acknowledge me much at the club, but I figured it was because he was there with his friends. I did my best to act professional when they were around, but Eric always managed to find me, stealing touches or quick kisses when nobody was looking. I knew we’d never be more than just casual, but I didn’t expect him to react so coldly when I told him we were about to have a baby.
Tears spilled down my cheeks, anger and sadness battling for dominance as my stomach flipped. “You know that’s not?—”
“It’snotmine,” he hissed, the hatred in his tone making me jump. I couldn’t believe this was the same guy I had joked and laughed with, rolling around under the covers until it was time for me to leave. That person was gone, right along with the hope that my child would have two parents who loved them deeply, even if they weren’t together.
He stood from the couch, his six-foot-five frame practically shaking as he towered over me. “We had fun, Finley, but I think it’s time to move on. Good luck with everything.”
He refused to hear anything else I had to say that day, all but slamming the door in my face as I left. I’ve tried a few times after that to get him to talk to me, but he insists that the baby isn’t his. I know there are ways to test for paternity now, but I’m hoping that once he or she is born, Eric will change his mind. Not to mention, those kinds of procedures are expensive, and I can barely pay the bills I have, as it is. Even with two roommates, living in the city of Cleveland isn’t cheap. Plus, I had awful morning sickness during my first trimester, which caused me to miss out on some of the tips I’ve come to rely on. It’s a lot better now that I’ve hit sixteen weeks, so hopefully, I can make that back and get caught up on my finances. I just have to stay focused and work hard.
I greet the bartenders as I pass, heading down the hallway that leads to our locker room. The uniforms we wear in the VIP section don’t leave much to the imagination, so we have to change into them after we arrive. Although the weather in Cleveland this time of year is warm, I don’t think any of us want to walk around outside in a plaid skirt that barely covers our ass andone of the three black crop top options we’re given. Especially not me with the extra weight I’m carrying around.
Being that this is my first pregnancy, I’ve only just started showing within the last week or so. I had to go up a uniform size and have gotten away with wearing a crewneck over my top to hide the small baby bump that’s becoming more prominent every day, but I imagine I’ll have to let my boss and coworkers know what’s going on sooner rather than later. I’ve been hiding my pregnancy from them up until now, partially because I’m not really close with any of them, and also because I’m embarrassed. I’m sure they saw the way Eric and I used to make eyes at one another, so it won’t take much for the rumor mill to come up with all kinds of stories now that he won’t even look at me.
Sucking in as best as I can, I zip my skirt, pulling the blackClub Tiltlogo sweatshirt over my head. I haphazardly drape my street clothes over a hanger, not really worried about wrinkles since all I plan on doing after my shift is going home and sleeping as long as I can. My social life is abysmal these days, but it’s fine because I really shouldn’t be spending carelessly, anyway. Placing my small handbag at the bottom of the locker, I close the door, making sure it’s locked and secure before heading out to the bar.
“Hey, Finley,” my supervisor, Blaine, says as I pass his office, causing me to pause. “Can you come in here for a few minutes? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” I groan internally becausewhat girl ever wants to hear that phrase, pasting on a very fake smile as Ienter his office. Blaine isn’t a bad guy, per se, but he runs a tight ship around here. He expects us to be on our game at all times, with perfect hair and makeup, so the patrons have what he callssomething nice to look at. If we’re having a bad day or maybe aren’t feeling our best, he tells us to suck it up and keep our emotions to ourselves until we get home.
Basically, he’s a fucking asshole.But the tips here are amazing, so I keep my eyes forward and do what he asks. That way, I don’t have to deal with him.
“What’s up?” I question, nervously lowering myself into the faux leather chair across from where he sits. The air around us is stale, the generic art hanging along the walls doing nothing to make the place feel warm or welcoming. His black industrial desk is devoid of any decorations or personal items, just an open laptop and a slew of scattered papers to show that a human being does, in fact, work here.
“I’m going to make this quick,” he begins, not an ounce of emotion in his expression. “You’ve been dragging ass here. You have regulars who come at night, asking where you are, but every time I turn around, you’ve switched shifts with someone. Not to mention, your blatant disregard for our dress code, which sweatshirts are not a part of. I have a hundred resumés from girls just like you who would die to work here, Finley. And I’m sure they’d have no problem following the rules. I’m sorry, but we’re letting you go.”
My blood runs cold, and I suck in a startled breath. His words are an immediate shock to my system, panic gripping at my insides like a vice as reality settles in. Ican’t lose this job. I’m about to have a baby, possibly without the help of their father. I need to work, or we won’t survive. Hopefully, I can plead my case, and he’ll give me a second chance.
“Blaine,” I croak, “I’ve made sure every one of my shifts was covered, and I still work more than forty hours a week. You’ve never been left short-handed when I wasn’t here. I was sick for a while, but I swear, I’m doing better. And as far as the uniform…” I pause, anxiety wrapping around me like a lead weight as it threatens to pull me under. I’ve been hiding my pregnancy from everyone at Club Tilt for long enough. Now is as good a time as any to explain why I haven’t been performing to my full potential. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes go wide, but I cut him off before he can speak. “I had really bad morning sickness during the first trimester, which, coincidentally, never really happened in the morning. Sometimes it was triggered by men’s cologne, and others, it was the smell of alcohol. But I’m better now. I’m not nearly as tired, so I can assure you that I won’t be switching shifts anymore. I’ll do everything you ask of me, Blaine. I promise.”
He sits back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his pursed lips as he studies me. For a moment, I think he may reconsider, but any hope I had vanishes into thin air with his next words. “That explains a lot. But I still think it’s best for us to part ways. How will you be able to work late nights with a baby? Not to mention, you already seem to be uncomfortable with your body. I won’t be able to hide you behind the bar until youruniform fits again.” He pauses, raising a brow. “Ifit fits again.”
My arms immediately curl around my midsection, stomach churning with unease. Sure, I’ve gained weight, and I’m starting to show a little bit, but I haven’t felt uncomfortable with the way I look. I’ve only been hiding my pregnancy to avoid questions and speculation because I didn’t want it to change the way people treated me. Although, judging by Blaine’s reaction, it didn’t do me any good.
“Please,” I beg, my throat tightening with worry. “I won’t be able to pay for my doctor’s appointments if I’m not working. I’ll do better. I swear, I will.” My bottom lip quivers, so I pull it between my teeth, trying my best not to break down. It certainly isn’t easy, especially with the hardened look he’s giving—one that tells me my pleas are falling on deaf ears.
