“Complicated because he doesn’t know you’re pregnant?” Renee asks.
I guess that works.
I shake my head, forcing a victimized look, and they both coo sadly.
“Wait, so it’s his, right?” Kira asks.
“Yes,” I say quickly. Because it is, no doubt about that.
“Then why haven’t you told him?” Renee asks. “Maybe he can get some leave to come see you. At least for the birth.”
“He… isn’t very involved,” I answer.
“Of course not! He’s out there serving our country in that sexy uniform, putting his life on the line,” Kira goes off, her eyes in another place entirely. “God, I love a man in uniform.”
“Does he want kids?” Renee asks, and I think about that.
“I don’t actually know. I think… he’s supposed to have kids. For legacy reasons or something.”
“God,” Renee groans. “What is it with men and theirlegacy? All these average dudes thinking their bloodline is going to be important. Meanwhile, they work in, like, construction. Don’t even have a 401k. And you have to ride their ass to unclog the toilet after the spend forty-five minutes fucking it up.”
Kira shakes her head. “That’s why I only date men who wear Sperrys.” We both just stare at her. “What?”
“What do Sperrys have to do with being datable?” Renee asks, and I giggle, happy that the conversation is no longer revolving around my mystery baby daddy.
“Well, think about it,” Kira goes on. “Have you ever seen a man who pours concrete for a living wearing Sperrys? No. You haven’t.”
“Jesus Christ.” Renee shakes her head.
And as crazy and shallow as this all is, it’s nice to get out. We order more food and more drinks and talk about everything from the new student dentist at work—a cute kid who both my coworkers are fawning over but I am thoroughly convinced is not single—to the latest episode ofLove is Blind. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like I can turn my brain off.
Well. Almost.
Ever since I saw the guy that I could have sworn was Maverick, I have been a little on edge. And while I haven’t seen the car again since then, I still find myself looking over my shoulder all the time, constantly checking my surroundings just to make sure I’m safe. And not crazy.
After my third mocktail, the baby shifts and I gasp, hopping off my barstool.
“Everything okay?” Renee asks.
“Yeah, I just have to pee. I feel like it’s all I do anymore.”
They both fawn over my belly for a moment, another thing that feels good considering they know nothing about my situation. Then I follow the bathroom signs and make my way to the back of the bar.
“I told you Mystery Mommy would be fun!” Renee shouts over the music.
“Not out of earshot yet!” I call back over my shoulder. They’re both grinning at me, and Renee is throwing me a wink. I nearly pee myself on the way to the bathroom.
Then my grin fades.
Just before I look away from the girls, I swear that he’s there. A man that looks unmistakably like Maverick, standing by the front door in a black hoodie and black jeans. Almost like the bouncer but shorter, leaner, darker skin and longer hair.
But on second glance, the man is gone.
I go into the bathroom forgetting all about the fact I had to pee. Instead, I find myself hyperventilating in the mirror. I grip thecounter in my hands as the world feels fuzzy, spinning around my head fast enough to make me feel sick.
“Hey, are you okay?” A woman washing her hands is kind enough to ask.
“Yeah. Just a little nauseous is all.” I force a smile, but my jagged breath says differently.
