“It might have, but people were honking at us,” I say as our drinks arrive, a hard cider for her and a Cherry Cola for me.
“Oh, my god I love this,” she says.
“I don’t,” I say.
“Why not? It’s not every day a one-night stand turns into something more,” she giggles, sipping on her drink.
“But that’s the thing, Jo. It can’t turn into anything. He’s my ex’s–” I stop, looking around and lowering my voice. “He’s my ex’s dad.”
“And?”
“And! That’s a pretty big problem. Imagine whatBenwould say if he found out,” I whisper his name. “Imagine what Gavin would think if he knew Ben is my ex?”
“Yeah, I guess that is pretty Jerry Springer,” she says as she nurses her cider. “Even so, they’d have to get over it if you two really had feelings for each other.”
“That’s the other thing. I don’t know if I do. Or if I want to. It’s complicated.”
“It is,” she says empathetically. “I bet your little sobriety checker in there doesn’t make it any less complicated.”
I look down at my belly, which still looks and mostly feels the same.
“Still pretending you’re growing a watermelon in your belly and not a baby?” she asks.
“I’m not pretending anything,” I say. “I’m just focused on other things. Besides, I’m not showing. I don’t have any symptoms other than a strange craving for breakfast food. Nothing’s really changed yet.”
“You’ve heard the heartbeat,” she says. “I was there with you, and you have an ultrasound photo.”
“I don’t…I don’t remember what I did with it,” I say, focusing on popping the bubbles in my soda with the straw.
“I do. You shoved it in your purse. The blue one with the gold latch,” she says. I know exactly what she’s talking about. It’s the purse I have with me in my cabin. When I don’t say anything, she goes on.
“It’s okay to be nervous. At some point you’re going to have to not worry about what other people think and just live your life. The way you want.”
The doors to the brewery open, and my stomach does a little backflip. Gavin walks in with a grin on his face that meets his eyes. He’s wearing a black hooded flannel and jeans, a look that I don’t hate. In Denver, he’s a city guy, slacks and button downs. Here, he’s a mountain man. It’s the best of both worlds.
He’s with a man who looks like a slightly younger, lankier version of him. If I had to guess–
“Charlotte,” Gavin calls as he heads our way. “Charlotte, I want you to meet Elias, my–”
“Brother,” I say, hopping off the stool, holding my hand out.
“Is it that obvious?” Elias asks.
“The men in your family have very defining traits,” I say.
“You would know,” Josie mumbles into her cider, and thank God no one hears her.
“Well, one of those traits is that we aren’t hand shakers,” Elias says before pulling me into a hug so warm I have to laugh.
“Charlotte is the wedding planner,” Gavin says.
“I know who she is,” Elias grins, winking at his brother. They share a look that is spoken in a language only they can decipher, and I wonder what Gavin told him.
“And this,” Elias says. “Is my wife Bethany and our kids Brody and Evie.” He gestures to a lovely woman with a bundle in her arms and two adorable little kids, both of them blonde like their mother and shy as can be.
“And Oliver,” Evie says, tugging at the blanket in her mom’s arms. “Don’t forget about the baby.”
“He’s always forgetting the baby,” Brody informs me.
