Promise Her

by Johnston, Andrea

  I’ve managed to hire two new part-time bartenders and establish a new routine around here. Without Ashton on the schedule to pick up the slack, I’ve been handling more of the business side of things and only covering the bar on busy nights or if someone calls out. Thankfully, the calling out has been less and less, and we’ve fallen into a new normal around here. I could use one more full-time employee to allow myself some days off, but I can’t entertain that idea until I’m confident my current staff is up to par. Besides, they covered me more than was reasonable in the weeks following Henry’s death. Allowing me time to be there for Scarlett.

  Now, she’s barely a blip in my daily life. The weekend she spent here was a turning point in our friendship. She’s pretending it never happened while strategically placing walls around us, keeping me at arm’s length. She’s refused my offer to come to Fayhill and help her with things around the house or to come here and spend a weekend with Addy.

  I’m ready to pack up a bag and show up at her house unannounced to force her to talk to me. I want to ask for her forgiveness for how I reacted to our night together. I want to hold her in my arms again and listen to her tell me the back stories to all of her ridiculous television shows. I want to see her laugh, to make her laugh, and I want to ask her how we move forward. What we do.

  She isn’t far from her delivery date and I feel so detached from her life. A crater sits in my heart where she is supposed to be. Where her laughter and smile fill the space. I don’t allow myself time to question what that means, although my sister has plenty of ideas. Each I’ve shot down.

  Last weekend she spent two days with Scarlett in Fayhill watching movies and having what she called “girl time” but I know was actually more about her checking on her well-being. As much as she tried to reassure me, and Grant has insisted, I need to see her for myself. To know she’s okay.

  A soft knock on the door pulls me from my running thoughts of Scarlett and the paperwork scattered atop my desk. “Yeah?” I shout. The door opens and my sister pops her head inside.

  “Is it safe to come in? No hussies throwing themselves at you?”

  Rolling my eyes I sit back in my chair, arms crossed over my chest. “One time, Addy. One misunderstanding and you’ll never let me live it down.”

  “Nope. And it may have been a misunderstanding to you, but that poor girl was devastated when she thought I was your girlfriend and she had to put her boobs away.”

  Laughing, I motion my sister inside the room, and she takes the seat across from me. A few weeks ago when Addy came by to drop off my nephew Mason’s fishing gear, she happened to catch a customer in my office, trying to proposition me. I was in the middle of turning her down when my sister appeared, and the young woman assumed she was my girlfriend. I didn’t correct her, grateful to have an out that didn’t include me telling her I simply wasn’t interested.

  “What brings you by?”

  “The gang is all here. It’s Ashton’s first night out since the babies were born. I doubt she’ll make it an hour, but we forced her to put on pants and leave the house.”

  “Ash doesn’t wear pants,” I remind her.

  “Semantics. Anyway, I wanted to stop in and see how you’re doing. Have you talked to Scarlett?”

  Shaking my head, I grab the mouse and begin clicking aimlessly at the screen in front of me. Addy is going to suggest I get in touch with my feelings and why not speaking to Scarlett is driving me nuts. Why I ask daily how she’s doing, if anyone has seen or spoken to her.

  “It’s killing me to see you like this. Your fucking pride is really annoying, you know that? You need to grow up and go see her. Tell her how you feel. If you love her like I think you do, there’s no better time than the present to make the grand gesture.”

  “Love? Who said anything about love? I mean, sure I love her, she’s Henry’s wife. I just worry about her. It’s my duty to take care of her, and she won’t let me.”

  Rising from her chair, Addy scoffs and turns to grab the door. I guess this conversation is over. Before opening the door, she turns to face me. “Taylor, you are a good man and deserve happiness. I wish you’d love yourself half as much as the rest of us and do something for yourself. Choose love without regret.”

  Not allowing me a chance to respond, she walks out and closes the door behind her. I sit for a few minutes, allowing her words to float around the room. Love without regret. I’m stubborn, this much is true, but it isn’t fair for me to even contemplate feelings outside of friendship for Scarlett. No matter how much I care or how much I miss her, it’s wrong and inappropriate. Pushing the door closed on my feelings, I get back to work, but my phone buzzes on the desk next to me.

  Looking down, I see Scarlett’s name and don’t hesitate to answer.

  “Red, I was just—” Her sobs fill the line and my heart drops. These aren’t the same cries of sadness I’ve heard from her. “What’s wrong? Scarlett?”

  “I went through Henry’s things. I . . . boxed up his clothes. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

  Taking a deep breath, overwhelming relief fills me as I sit down in my desk chair. The sound of her sobs sent my heart racing, fear consuming me. I’m grateful she isn’t hurt or scared.

  “You shouldn’t have done that alone.”

  “I didn’t. Mercy was here. I just . . . I can’t bring Logan home from the hospital with Henry’s ghost at every turn. I want his presence here for our son, but I can’t continue to slide his shirts over to hang my own anymore.”

  She’s nesting. I remember my sister commenting on it the other day, saying the time would come when she started purging everything. Ashton tried pulling that shit in the bar in her last month here and it took me three shifts to find the cutting boards from where she’d put them for “convenience.”

  “Logan? Did you decide on a name?” I ask, hoping the topic of her son will help settle her anxiety.

  “I’m testing it out. What do you think? I was also considering going a little old-school. Maybe Oliver or Matthew.”

  “I think your son is going to do amazing things, and his name won’t matter. Well, unless his name is Banana or Shallot.”

  My teasing causes her to laugh, and it’s a welcome change to how our conversation started. When she gains her composure, she says, “Thank you for making me laugh. That’s why I called. You never judge me. Well, you may if I name my son after produce. Plus, you give me permission to purge my emotions without judgment. Then you make me smile. I’m lucky to have you, Taylor Cain.”

  “Ah, Red. You’re going to make me cry.” I fake sniffle and she laughs again. It’s beautiful music to my ears when there is such a dark cloud hanging over the conversation. Choosing a baby’s name should be done with both parents involved. I unscrew the cap of the water bottle on my desk, lifting it to my lips as she speaks.

  “What are you up to mister big-time bar owner? Flirting with all the ladies? Handing out screaming orgasms?”

  Choking on my water, I cough and wipe the dribbled water from my chin. Her giggles fill the line, and I shake my head. A light tap on the door doesn’t allow me to make a sarcastic and possibly inappropriate response. “Yeah?” I shout.

  The door opens and my bartender for the night, Caleb, opens the door. “Yo boss, it’s getting pretty nuts out here, and we need another bottle of Jack.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I tell him and wait for him to close the door. “Scarlett, I’ve missed you. I’m sor—”

  “Tay, I can’t. I’m emotional and hormonal, and it’s no telling what will come out of my mouth. I wasn’t sure you’d answer. I have so many regrets.”

  Regrets. Love without regret. “Scar—” She continues talking, never hearing my attempt to speak.

  “—and he’s moving like crazy. The other day I could see a foot. It was surreal. It’s all so real, and I’m overwhelmed. Most of all, I needed to hear your voice, to know I could call without judgment.”

  “Never judgment, Red. I promise
. Look, I’ve gotta run. You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I will. Thanks for listening. For everything.”

  The line goes dead before I can respond; before I can promise her we’ll be okay.

  Chapter 18

  Scarlett

  Calling Taylor yesterday was a mistake. I’ve been doing well these last few weeks, able to compartmentalize my feelings and the changes I’m making. Okay, so really I’ve done a phenomenal job of pretending nothing happened between us and keeping him at arm’s length.

  Until I was sitting on the bedroom floor, listening to a sappy love song that Henry used to play for me when life was good. When we were happy, and I believed in forever kind of love. I was holding his favorite sweatshirt to my face, inhaling the scent of him and lost it. I sobbed to the point I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt so alone. Broken and lost. The baby kicked, and I needed someone. I needed to be pulled into a warm embrace and comforted.

  Without someone here to comfort me, I picked up my phone and called the one person I knew would be there for me. Regardless of what happened that night in his bed, Taylor Cain is the only person I wanted to talk to.

  Flooded with emotions I’m not ready to face, I ended the call abruptly, abandoned my purging, and crawled under my covers for a long cry. Today I’m paying the price. A sob-fest hangover is not my best look. As I get ready for a doctor’s appointment, I almost don’t recognize the woman staring at me in the mirror. Her eyes are puffy and vacant, her hair a tangled mess. I’m exhausted after a restless night of sleep. Dreams I’ve become used to, but last night’s were different, more intense and focused on Taylor. That’s what I get for calling him. I should’ve called Mercy like I told him I had.

  I lied.

  It seemed easier at the time but now it’s just another thing I regret. I thought I could handle sorting Henry’s things; it would be easier to do alone. I underestimated my ability to break down.

  Splashing cold water on my face, I go through the motions of putting on makeup and hiding the dark circles under my eyes. Running my fingers through my hair, I spray a little product and braid the sides before piling it high on my head.

  Exchanging my loose-fitting sweats and tank with a maxi dress, I slide my feet into a pair of sandals and head for the door. Today I get to see my son on the ultrasound and that means it’s going to be a great day. As I’m walking out the door to my car, my cell phone rings. Glancing at the screen I see it’s a blocked number and let it go to voicemail. Another voicemail that will be white noise. No words spoken. No noise. And just like every day for the last few months, another voicemail I’ll delete without a second thought.

  Sitting in the obstetrician’s office, I try to ignore the couples sitting around the room. Women are in various stages of their pregnancies with their significant others sitting with them, hands resting on arms, legs, and bellies. Partners. There are few women alone like me but none with the obvious final trimester stomach like me. Instead of wallowing in the thoughts of fear and loneliness that have hit me like a ton of bricks over the last few days, I focus on the excitement of hearing my son’s heartbeat and seeing his precious face on the screen.

  The realization that it won’t be long until I’m holding him in my arms fills my heart with both excitement and fear. Becoming a parent is scary business but something I plan to excel at. The man of the hour is currently doing some sort of calisthenics in my stomach, the flutters making me squirm in my seat.

  I read a lot of books on pregnancy and the various stages of movement but nothing prepares you for the real thing. It’s weird as hell. And awesome. But, mostly weird. Last night I saw a handprint from the inside out and turned the lights off to avoid seeing it again. I don’t need that visual in my head before I fall asleep.

  In many ways it felt like this part of my pregnancy would never arrive while in others, it flew by so quickly. I suppose that’s part of life. When you dreamed and wished for something and receive it, time speeds by, and you feel like you’ve almost missed it all. That’s where I am. Looking in the mirror this morning, it was difficult to remember a time I didn’t have these boobs and this massive belly.

  “Scarlett.”

  The sound of my name from the far side of the room grabs my attention. Rising from the chair, I walk toward the smiling nurse holding a small tablet. I know the routine well: weight then blood pressure before I change into my little gown, a term they should really retire since there’s nothing about the scrap of fabric they give you that remotely resembles a gown.

  Once I confirmed I gained a few pounds since my last visit and my blood pressure is only slightly elevated, but nothing compared to what it was a few months ago, I slip out of my dress and replace it with the gown before sitting on the paper sheet atop the table. As I wait for the doctor to enter, I play a little on my phone and scroll through my social media. Photos of my friends fill my feed along with some random advertisements for yarn. I’m not sure I’ll ever officially make a blanket or garment my son will be able to wear, but the need to click on the ads and choose some new material is almost desperate.

  Two rapid knocks on the door are my warning before Dr. Green enters the room. His demeanor is fatherly and always tugs a little at my heart. His kind eyes take me in and that’s when I see it, the sympathy. I was here two weeks ago when he determined it would be best for me to slow down, spend more time sofa surfing, and living a life of boredom.

  “Scarlett, how are you, dear?”

  Plastering on a smile, I reply, “I’m good. Thank you. Ready to meet this little guy.” My hands rub large circles on my stomach, and I’m rewarded with a sharp jab to my side. “Oomph. I think he’s destined to be a soccer player or martial arts master. He’s quite the kicker.”

  Dr. Green laughs as he taps on his small tablet. Fingers scrolling, the room becomes quiet before he takes a seat on the rolling stool in front of me. Looking at me, he says, “How is everything really, Scarlett? This is such a stressful and difficult time for you.”

  “It has been quite a few months. I’m finding each day a little different than the last. Some better than others.”

  “I understand. Your blood pressure seems to be better. Are you still taking it three times a day?”

  “I am. As you predicted, it tends to spike in the afternoons. I’ve grown accustomed to naps during Dr. Phil,” I say sheepishly. Dr. Green laughs, so I continue, “I am bored, though. Do you have a prescription for that?”

  Dr. Green walks to the sink and washes his hands all while telling me to enjoy the time I have. The peace and quiet before my son arrives. I suppose he’s right, as much as I hate it. He pushes a button on the wall and within minutes, the nurse appears in the room and we begin the examination.

  “You’re measuring right on time. Is he moving a lot?” Nodding, I watch as Dr. Green touches his hands across my abdomen and is greeted with a hearty kick, causing us all to laugh. “Well, looks like someone has thoughts on my touching him. Do we have a name for this little guy?”

  “Not quite yet. I want to meet him first. Is that strange?” I ask, suddenly unsure if that’s not the norm with new moms.

  “Nothing strange at all. I’ve had parents wait until five minutes before discharge to name their child. It’s a huge responsibility. Well, Master Gilbert, I wouldn’t be surprised if we met sooner rather than later.”

  Gasping, I try to sit up but fail. Or flail is more like it. “What?”

  Motioning for the nurse to dim the lights, he turns on the ultrasound machine and points at the screen. “Your little man is in position and it’s just a waiting game. While more time is never a bad thing, we are absolutely in the safe zone for delivery.”

  Instead of responding to this news, I look to my left and watch as my baby fills the screen. I love seeing him and knowing he’s safe and secure in my womb. His little hands are out in front of him like he’s praying, and I don’t bother to stop the sudden influx of tears.

  The nurse hands me a tissue, and I r
eturn the gesture with a smile of thanks. Once the doctor has printed a few pictures from the ultrasound, he offers a hand to help me sit up on the table. Sniffling, I dab my eyes with the tissue. He pats my knee while the nurse grips me around the shoulder.

  “Scarlett, I know this is a difficult time for you. It’s important to have a support system, do you have that?”

  Nodding I say, “I do. Henry and I have a lot of friends. I’m grateful for the concern, but these tears are more about seeing my baby and knowing he’s going to be in my arms soon than anything else.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Please continue to limit your activity and rest as much as possible. Once this one is born, you’ll be glad you did. Give us a call if you begin to feel unwell or if there is a lack of movement. We’re here for you, Scarlett.” I nod because if I speak, the tears will start again. The nurse hugs me once more before they both exit the room. Looking down at the photo in my hand, I smile.

  “We’re going to be okay, buddy. I feel it. I’m sorry you won’t know your daddy, but he loved you very much.” I’m rewarded with another kick and a sudden hankering for some pie from The Mess Hall.

  A slice of pie and a cup of decaf coffee later, I’m sitting in the small diner in town. My friend Mercy is bustling around serving the handful of customers while I sip on my second cup of coffee and scroll through my phone: checking emails, claiming my lives in every game in my arsenal, and reviewing all of my social media accounts.

  I stop my scroll on a picture in my feed of Addy and Taylor. Standing in Country Road, she’s hugging him while he looks moderately annoyed. The standard for those two. The caption reads “Little Bro love.” I pause on the photo longer than is probably reasonable for a friend. Taylor’s handsome face, so full of life, stares back at me and a twinge of envy prickles as my neck. I miss him. I miss his hugs and his comfort.

  Shaking off the thoughts, I snap a picture of the ultrasound photo and attach it to a text message for Addy. I make sure to let her know the doctor is happy with my progress and while I still need to take it easy, everything seems to be going well.