Autumn Night Whiskey (Tequila Rose Book 2)

by Willow Winters

  The creak of the floor as he makes his way to me, causes me to wince and turn my back to him so I can stare at the baby monitor.

  Back to the present. Back to now and rent being due.

  With no movement on the monitor, I count the money again. It’s all in twenties, but the full six hundred is there. I know a two bedroom in this area goes for more than that, but it’s what Robert told me rent would be. Next to it is a pile of paid bills, each marked off with a permanent marker after I mailed in the checks. Adulthood is expensive and I never knew every little thing could add up so quick.

  “How are you?” Robert asks after taking in a deep sigh. Shoving down the anxiety over my finances, I turn back to him, getting a good glimpse at the guy I used to love. He was my best friend for so long. I dreamed for years of what our future together would be like.

  White picket fence and blue shutters. A border collie puppy would be our “baby” for the first few years.

  Never would I have guessed I’d be renting from him while taking care of a little girl on my own.

  “I have the rent,” I finally say, although it doesn’t really answer his question. I pick up the stack of twenties and add, “I’m going to start working soon, so there’s no reason I can’t pay.” It hurts. I can’t deny that to see him and remember what could have been physically pains me. I love my baby girl, though, and that keeps me standing upright with all the pride I can manage.

  Biting down on my lower lip, I hand over the money. I loved him with everything I had once. That changed, obviously. When I came back home and he tried to be right there beside me like he hadn’t shattered my heart, I told him to stay away from me. And when I found out I was pregnant, during all the madness and all the anger I had with what my father had done … I told him the baby wasn’t his. I shouldn’t have explicitly said it, even though I’m almost certain there’s no way Bridget could be his. We used protection every time. The one-night stand I had after Robert dumped me … I’m almost certain we didn’t.

  I’m more than aware I don’t deserve any kindness from Robert at all. I’ve pushed him away time and time again, but still, he comes back.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “I really appreciate you letting me stay here, but—”

  “If you’re going to cut me off, I’m going to cut you off,” he bites back with a tension I’m not used to and strides into the kitchen, eating up the distance between us. He’s too close to me, smelling like the memories I wish I could escape back into and staring at me with a gaze I know all too well. Too self-assured in being right here with me, when I haven’t asked a thing from him.

  “Please,” I whisper and try to keep the tears from coming. I don’t even know why I’m crying at this point. I’m exhausted, an emotional wreck, and there’s plenty that’s dragged me down with celerity. Right now, all I want is for him to hold me and tell me it’s all going to be better, and that’s the last thing I need. Empty promises with no logical reasoning. “Just let me pay you.”

  There’s very little money left over from my father’s estate, and that’s being held up in the lawsuit filed by my father’s girlfriend, who’s closer to my age than his. I don’t know what he ever saw in her. There’s enough in my bank account to last another two months and, in the meantime, I’m selling everything I can. Renee’s going to help me with my résumé and I’ll get a job. My degree will wait, even if the tuition bills won’t. I’ve got a plan and my life right now isn’t what I thought it would be, but I’ll make it work for me and my baby girl.

  Holding out the cash with my arm fully extended, I keep him at a distance.

  “I don’t want your money, Mags,” Robert answers simply, slipping his hands into his pockets, refusing to accept it.

  “There’s no reason for you to let me stay here for free.” How can I look at him, a man who’s got it all, a man I feel like I betrayed, a man I lied to, and not feel inferior? It’s all I’ve felt for nearly a year, but I hate him for making me feel this way all over again, simply by standing in front of me, not taking the money I owe him.

  “You lie,” he tells me, and my entire body goes hot.

  “I’m not a liar.”

  “You said there’s no way she’s mine,” he says and his voice is tight.

  With my lips pressed in a thin line, they tremble.

  “She looks like me,” he reasons.

  “I have a type,” I answer him, turning to face the kitchen counter and giving him nothing but my back. I reach for my tea, desperate to steady myself even though my hands shake. I wish Renee were here. She’s helped me keep it together. She reminds me why Robert and I are a bad idea.

  “We were together right around when—”

  “You didn’t ask for a baby, and you know … you know she’s not yours.” My voice breaks at the last little bit. I know deep in my soul she isn’t his daughter. She was an accident and a handsome man named Brody is her father. He’s the other half of that accident and all I have is a first name, so he’s practically a stranger.

  “You didn’t do a test. You can’t know for sure.”

  “Fine,” I say, giving in, “we can do a—”

  “No.” He’s quick to shut down the very thing he just brought up. “We don’t need to …” I turn back to face him as he continues, focusing on taking one breath in, then one breath out. “You’re going through a lot, and I know … you don’t want me to be her father.”

  I wipe under my eyes, feeling both exhaustion and confusion overwhelming me. “What do you want, Robert?” I ask him, truly wanting an answer.

  “Do you want to go to the drive-in this Friday?”

  Is he asking me out? I can only stare back at him, not understanding. He can’t be serious. I’ve done everything I can to push this man away since I’ve come home. I have a full plate and I’m barely holding on. A date? He is insane.

  “You’re a glutton for punishment,” is all I can manage as a response.

  “Don’t say that,” he replies with far too much compassion, his brow softening as he tilts his head slightly. Time slips away, the cash sitting in my palm feeling like it’s burning my hand.

  “There’s not an ounce of desire in me to do anything other than sleep,” I answer him honestly. “Can you please just take the money?”

  “Mags,” he says and his voice is pleading. “You can use that money for a sitter, or—”

  “Take the rent, Robert.” The second I raise my voice I hunch my shoulders and peek down the hall, then back to the monitor. Please, please don’t wake up, baby girl.

  “I know you’re mad,” Robert starts and his voice drones on, but I can barely focus.

  Yes, I’m mad. More than mad, even. I’m full of resentment that my father screwed over this town and left me to pick up the pieces. I’m upset I couldn’t be happy about this pregnancy without knowing how I was going to care for her. I had to hide it from this town for as long as I could so they wouldn’t add that on top of the judgment I already had coming my way. Robert changed when he found out my secret. He was fine with me pushing him away until he thought I was pregnant with his baby. He doesn’t love me. At least that’s what I’ve told myself for months, reminding myself of that phone call when he threw away what we had for no good reason. It took less than five minutes and then everything was different between us.

  It’s just a knight in shining armor complex that made him help me.

  With the hormones and stress from the pregnancy, I don’t need more problems added into the mix. Not to mention the heartbreak of navigating motherhood without my own mother here to teach me.

  I don’t even realize he’s done saying whatever it is that he’s saying until I recognize a sound that’s been absent in this place all day: silence.

  “It’s your money, Robert, please just—”

  “I don’t want it, Mags.” His voice is firm and I snap.

  “Take it.” I can barely breathe as tears prick the back of my eyes, and I shove the stack of twentie
s into his chest. “Take it and leave.”

  With the cash pressed against his front, his hands raise. As I pull away, he has to catch the falling money. “I don’t want it.”

  “I’m not going on a date with you to stay here.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  I threaten something I pray won’t happen. “If you won’t let me pay you, then I’ll go somewhere else.” I can’t afford anywhere else. I know that much and just speaking those words makes me feel sick. Six hundred is a bargain and I’m more than aware of that. “I’m not a whore,” I add, barely getting out the words, hating myself. Hating the way Robert thought I’d just be with him again because of the mess I’m in.

  I’ve never felt so low in my life.

  “I didn’t say you were.” Robert’s voice is deadpan as I stare into his baby blue eyes, feeling my own itch with a tiredness that hasn’t left me in months.

  “You didn’t have to,” I comment sincerely. That gets a reaction from him.

  Tossing the money in the trash, Robert holds back from voicing whatever’s on his mind. He’s good at that, at not responding in anger. He’s never called me a name, never yelled at me, but it still hurt when we’d fight, because he could walk away silently. He told me once he didn’t want to say something he’d regret. I’ve said far too much that I regret, and I’ve barely lived. Still, I can’t stand it, knowing he’s biting his tongue.

  With both of my palms on the counter, I stare at the trash can and listen to him practically storm out, apart from slamming the door. He saves me from that fear. When the door closes with a soft thud, so do my eyes. I’m grateful he didn’t slam it and that Bridget is still asleep. Or at least she isn’t crying. Anxiously, I pick up the baby monitor on the counter, staring at the black and white image of my baby girl. Everything happens for a reason, I remind myself and hear my mother’s voice: it’ll be all right, baby girl. Fresh, warm tears spill out the corners of my eyes, and I can’t hold them back this time.

  I’m busy whispering the same words to the monitor when the sound of the front door opening forces me to whip around. I don’t expect to see an upset Robert striding back in. He rips the lid off the trash can and reaches in, pulling out the cash that’s now dirtied with old breast milk and Lord knows what else I threw in there earlier today.

  Even with his face scrunched in disgust, he picks out every bill as I stare in shock. “I’m not going to make you pick it out of the trash,” he comments, his voice even but low. Wiping under my eyes I watch his face turn sour as he asks, “What the hell is this?”

  “Bad milk.”

  “Bad milk?” I don’t know if his question is serious or not as he drops his arm to nearly the bottom of the pail.

  “Apparently whatever I’m eating is giving her gas,” I confess to him, “because I can’t even feed my little girl without hurting her.” Watching a baby struggle with pain and knowing it’s your fault … that’s a part of motherhood I wasn’t prepared for. It hurts more than I could have ever imagined.

  “You aren’t hurting her,” he says, consoling me the second the admission leaves my lips, and I can’t stand the look in his eyes or the comfort in his voice, so I turn away. “You’re a good mom,” he tells me as I do everything I can to keep my composure. I don’t know what made him come back in, but I wouldn’t have ever guessed he’d come back to clean the money he threw in the trash.

  He moves to the sink and I watch his broad shoulders flex as Robert washes the bills, rinsing off the old pumped milk I had to throw away. The faucet squeaks as he shuts it off, the cash laying on a paper towel to dry. With a palm on either side of the sink, his tall form hunches over.

  “I don’t want to fight, Mags.” Hearing him say my name and then noting the pain in his voice does something to me. Misery loves company but my God when it gets what it’s after, it calls on regret to save its soul.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him and I mean it. I don’t know what I’m doing; all I know is that everything feels heavy and like I can’t hold it up. The trembling of my shoulders as I let out a heavy sob is lessened when Robert wraps his arms around me.

  Rocking me gently, he kisses the top of my head and I wish he wouldn’t. Because everything in me wants to lean against him and rest.

  “I’m not going to take it,” he says.

  “Then don’t kiss me. Please. Stop helping me.”

  “You need help, though,” he states matter-of-factly. I’ve lost everything in the last year, including my pride.

  With a shuddering breath I push away from him, upset that I’ve sunk so low. I don’t recognize who I am and I even hate myself a little.

  The baby monitor flares to life with a wail from my baby girl and it’s all I can do to ask Robert to leave. To let me be so I can go back to her.

  “I’ll get her,” he tells me and then leaves me standing there to let his words sink in. I’m so tired, I can barely comprehend what he’s said. I’ve been by myself all day with her and there’s never a break.

  I didn’t know it’d be this hard.

  I listen to his steady strides down the hall. I hear him tell my baby girl to hush and go back to sleep as if he’s done it a million times before. She calms down in his arms as he sways her back and forth, patting her bottom and shushing gently. With the baby monitor in my hand, I watch him comfort my daughter better than I have all day and it dims any anger I have toward him for starting the fall of dominoes that led to this point.

  When she stops crying, it’s peaceful for a moment and I’m grateful. I’m so grateful that every wall I’ve put up comes crashing down.

  Magnolia

  Present day

  Guilt doesn’t mix well with morning coffee. Even still, I gulp down the French vanilla and pretend everything’s easy to swallow. The regrets, the uncertainties … all of it.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” Renee questions and startles me, dragging her feet along the floor as she slowly shuffles into the kitchen. A bit of mascara from yesterday lingers under her eyes and she rubs it away, yawning as she does.

  “Barely,” I comment, rubbing the tiredness from under my eyes as well. Just seeing her eases the tension that’s wreaked havoc on every fiber of me since last night when Robert pulled out that velvet box. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”

  “Yeah, well, the curtains in your bedroom suck.” Humor traces each of her words and picks up her lips.

  Her amethyst silk pajamas have an expensive feel and look out of place in my modest townhouse kitchen. Moving my glance to the worn, baggy tee I use as a nightgown, I note how at odds our wardrobes are. I know I could match her with any number of dainty nighties I have tucked in the bottom drawer of my dresser, but last night I needed comfort. So I turned to an old sleep shirt I used to wear in college. Robert’s seen me in this shirt plenty over the years. He’s stripped it from me and left it a puddle of cloth on the floor next to my bed half a dozen times … and just that thought brings my mood down even farther.

  A loud yawn from Renee, which if I had to guess, I’d say was exaggerated, pulls me from my thoughts. Grabbing the coffeepot and pouring herself a cup in her favorite mug of mine, a rose gold number that says “Manifest It” on the front, Renee repeats her question. “So, couldn’t sleep?”

  “You were hogging the bed,” I rebut weakly, letting the playfulness come out more than giving a serious answer. An asymmetric smile pulls at my lips, but the tension still wrestles inside of me and I can’t hide that from Renee. Her raised eyebrow tells me as much.

  She doesn’t push and I turn my back to her, opening the cabinet in search of a bowl so I can pour myself cereal.

  Her spoon tinks as she stirs in creamer. Renee tells me I’m the one who steals the covers and as the tiny spheres of sugary sweet morsels fill the ceramic bowl, she adds that her staying over has never stopped me from sleeping before. The cereal box hits the counter with a dull thud and a beat passes in silence as my hunger for anything at all leaves me.

 
“You’re sad about Robert?” Renee asks as I leave the bowl behind me, opting instead for an empty stomach and more caffeine. The breakfast of champions.

  I could barely speak last night when I got home. It’s hard to explain how difficult it is to look into the eyes of one of your best friends and tell him you don’t accept his marriage proposal. It was more than a bruised ego that stared back at me from his baby blues. He was devastated … and I did that to him.

  “I just feel guilty,” I confess into my coffee and blow away the steady steam before taking another sip and then another. I have to tilt the cup nearly all the way back to get the last few drops. I love Robert and I always will. And he loves me; I know he does.

  “Here.” Renee gestures with the pot, offering to fill up my cup and I meet her halfway. “You shouldn’t feel guilty,” she tells me like I don’t deserve to feel like crap for putting him through that last night.

  “I’ve never turned down a proposal before, but I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to come with a few negative feelings.” I can feel my eyes roll, which is better than pricking with tears.

  Renee snorts. “Yeah, on his part.”

  Staring at Renee, her hair already brushed and looking like silk compared to my mess of a bun, I wish she understood.

  “He was talking about leaving and starting fresh.”

  We can start over. Us and Bridget. If you’re ready for more, I want it with you. I want to be with you forever, Mags.

  Remembering his confession makes me grip the counter behind me to remain upright. The words were spoken with raw vulnerability and I couldn’t stop him until he pulled out the box.

  “I wish you had been there. He sounded desperate, Renee. You should’ve seen him.” Again, Renee scoffs at the idea.

  “He wanted to leave Beaufort?” She blinks comically, both hands wrapped around the coffee mug.

  “As if I’d want to leave this place. I don’t … I don’t know where that came from.” Last night, I saw the same man who stood in front of me only a few feet away from where I am now, begging me to let him help. And just like back then, I told him no.