Undeniably Yours

by Shannon Stacey

  Even as the thought snuck into her brain, she looked down and watched her hand come to rest on her stomach, as if it had a mind of its own. She didn’t know what would happen in the next nine minutes, never mind the next nine months. But she wouldn’t be walking away from her baby.

  She watched horror creep into his features and anger tighten his jaw. “No.”

  “No what?”

  “Don’t do it,” he said, and there was a pleading note in his voice that didn’t make any sense.

  “Don’t do what? I didn’t say anything.”

  “Don’t have an abortion. Please.”

  Frustration had a way of shortening her fuse, but she took a deep breath and realized she hadn’t said anything when he asked if she was keeping the baby and he’d assumed the worst. “I never considered that, Kevin. I swear.”

  He blew out a breath and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “I don’t want anything from you. I thought you had a right to know, that’s all. Now you know.”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I meant more like…I don’t know what to do.”

  She gave a short laugh because it was either that or cry. “Join the club.”

  “Do you need money?”

  “I’ll make do.” She always did.

  “You don’t have any insurance, do you? Not being temporary part-time.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was have this conversation with him. “No, I don’t have insurance. And my mother had three miscarriages before she had me and one after, so I’m scared I’m going to lose this baby because I can’t afford a really good doctor, so after years of telling my parents moving around a lot doesn’t make me irresponsible, I’m going to have to ask them for money.”

  Crap. She hadn’t meant to tell him that much but when she opened her mouth, the panic that kept her up the night before had just sort of spilled out. Inside, Mister Happy-family-with-enough-money-to-throw-a-fancy-wedding-bash-with-an-open-bar was probably recoiling in horror.

  The tears spilling onto her cheeks were the last dollop of whipped cream on the whole steaming hunk of humiliation pie.

  “You don’t have to ask your parents for money.” Kevin handed her a few paper towels, which she used to hide her face as much as wipe her eyes. “They’re not having a baby. We are, and we’ll be fine.”

  We. Part of her was relieved to have a partner in panic and uncertainty, but we was also a level of togetherness she hadn’t expected to share with anybody for a while, especially with a guy whose Rolodex was filled out in Do-Me Fuchsia lipstick.

  “Sit here and relax a few minutes,” he told her. “I’ve gotta run down to my office but I won’t be long.”

  “I should go.” She was tired and, emotionally, she was as wrung out as a cheap chamois cloth.

  “Just give me a few minutes. I need to check on something and I’ll be right back.”

  How could she say no? The poor guy not only had a weeping heap of drama dropped in his lap, but the news he was going to be a father, too. He was doing pretty well, she had to admit. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

  Halfway to the door, he turned back. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

  “I promise. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

  When he closed the door behind him, Beth collapsed onto the couch with her wadded-up paper towels and sighed. She wasn’t going to see Albuquerque any time soon. She’d be too busy staying here and being part of a we with Kevin Kowalski, whether she wanted to or not.

  Chapter Four

  Kevin closed the door of his office behind him, shutting out the din of the bar, and sank into his desk chair.

  Holy shit, he was going to be a father. Dad. Daddy. Holy shit.

  Sure, he’d been thinking maybe it was time to settle down. Find a woman who wouldn’t screw him up the way the first one had and maybe have a couple of kids.

  But not necessarily today.

  Leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head, he tried to absorb it. Condoms weren’t one hundred percent, a fact he’d had drummed into his head by his father the first time he borrowed the car to go on a date. But why couldn’t he be one of the two percent that won the lottery or found a fancy French painting worth millions for fifty cents in a yard sale?

  No, he was getting a baby. Less than nine months from now he was going to be a father. He took a deep breath, heard how shaky the exhale was and took another. Didn’t seem to help.

  But now wasn’t the time to panic because Beth seemed a little shaky and they couldn’t both be shaky at the same time. He could handle this. He was ready to have a kid. He hadn’t thought much about it, but he must be because during those awful few seconds after he asked her if she was keeping it and she hadn’t answered, the thought of losing that baby had made his gut clench up so bad he thought he was going to puke on her.

  For now he had to keep his shit together and come up with a plan. He had a nice savings account. The bar was running well into the black. He could get his hands on whatever money she needed. Hell, worst case, he’d hit up his brother. Those twisted books Joe wrote had him rolling in cash. For now he rifled through the filing cabinet until he found what he was looking for. Taking another deep breath that didn’t seem to help, he picked up the phone and punched in the numbers.

  It took longer than he’d thought and he feared he’d walk into his apartment and find her gone. But when he finally made it upstairs, he found her curled up on his couch, munching on Cool Ranch Doritos and watching country music videos.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, holding up the bag.

  “Course not.” He sat in the chair opposite the couch and propped his elbows on his knees. “So I made a phone call and my insurance company is totally run by a bunch of dicks. Even if we got married this week, I don’t have a pregnancy rider and your pregnancy would be a pre-existing condition anyway, so no coverage. Although the baby will be covered as soon as it’s born.”

  Beth had frozen, a Dorito halfway to her mouth, but then her eyes widened. “Married? No, Kevin, I—”

  “For the insurance,” he interrupted. “Which is a moot point, I guess.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  What did that mean? “Unless you think we should.”

  She looked at him as though he’d just suggested they have a quickie on the bar during a big game rush. “I don’t think so.”

  He tried to ignore the unwelcome pang of disappointment that made no sense. He was like a freakin’ roller-coaster. Scared she’d say yes. Bummed she said no and at the way she said it. Must be the shock. “You’re probably right. My brother and his wife got married because she got pregnant. She had like a total meltdown a while back. Thought he’d only married her because of the baby and all that.”

  Beth nodded, then munched on another chip, her gaze shifting to the television screen. Some guy in a John Wayne hat was leaning against the bed of a beat-to-crap old pickup wailing about something. He hoped she didn’t get the baby hooked on that shit. He’d heard babies could hear stuff like that before they were born and you should buy them classical music CDs or something like that. He wasn’t a big Beethoven fan, but no kid of his was going to be singing yee-haw, either.

  “So…” He had no idea what to say.

  “My due date’s June twenty-eighth.”

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. June twenty-eighth. A deadline. A little less than nine months to get his shit together.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, staring down at the empty, crumpled bag she was twisting in her hands.

  “I can buy more.” She gave him a funny look and he realized she didn’t mean the chips. He moved over to the couch and put his arm around her. “Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about. We took precautions, but nothing’s a hundred percent.”

  She scooted away—not far, but enough so he got the message and dropped his arm. “You’re taking this awfully well.”

  �
�Trust me, I’m totally freaking out on the inside.”

  She snorted. “So am I.”

  Sick of the harsh crinkling sound, he took the empty chip bag from her and tossed it onto the coffee table. “We’ll freak out together. To really bad music.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with country music.”

  “Sounds like somebody stepped on a hound dog’s tail.”

  She laughed and shoved him away. “It does not. What do you listen…oh my God, I don’t even know what kind of music you listen to and I’m having your baby.”

  “I don’t even know where you live.”

  “In a third-floor apartment. Like you.”

  Two third-floor apartments. Two flights of stairs. They’d need safety grilles on the windows. Check the fire escapes. Jesus, neither of them had a yard. You couldn’t raise a kid with no yard.

  A kid needed a house. A yard. Fences and toys and a bike and a dog. Plastic plugs in the electrical outlets and…all that shit Mike and Lisa had raising four boys. They’d even put some kind of Velcro strap on the toilet lid.

  “Holy shit.”

  “Are we starting to freak on the outside now, too?”

  He hadn’t realized he said it out loud. “I think so.”

  “You sure know how to turn a girl’s life upside down, Kevin Kowalski.”

  “Feeling a little sideways myself, Beth…” Shit. He didn’t even know her last name and it was too late to hide the fact. Smooth.

  Her laugh was short and cynical. “Guess I should have written it on a napkin for you.”

  ***

  Thursday nights were pretty slow at Jasper’s, but Paulie didn’t mind. They always drew in enough of the regulars and the drop-ins to make the time go by, but not so much of a crowd people were shouting and getting impatient.

  Usually Kevin took Thursday nights off, but tonight he’d stuck around. Or his body had, at least. His mind was someplace else and wherever that someplace was, it wasn’t happy.

  Paulie wiped her hands on a towel and walked to the end of the bar, where he was sitting and staring into an empty coffee cup. “Want a refill?”

  “Last thing I need is more caffeine.”

  Her boss—and best friend—wasn’t the type to dwell on things so she leaned her elbows on the bar and propped her chin on her hands. “What’s up with you?”

  “Gonna be a dad.”

  Okay, she hadn’t seen that coming. “No shit. Anything to do with the brunette you took upstairs yesterday? The one whose boss’s nose you broke a few weeks back?”

  “Beth. She and the woman I told you about—the bartender at Joe’s wedding? Same woman.”

  “So…wow.”

  “Yeah.” He was tapping the empty mug on the bar, so she took it away and dropped it into a buspan. “Guess that ninety-eight percent effective warning on the box wasn’t just legalese.”

  “Tell your parents yet?”

  “Nope. Nobody but you.”

  A guy down the bar was practically leaning over it, waving his mug to get her attention, but he could wait. “You okay with it?”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting it, but…yeah. I think I’m okay with it.”

  “Is she okay with it?”

  “Hard to say.” He laughed. “I think she’d be happier if was some other guy’s.”

  “Cut it out,” she yelled at the thirsty guy who’d moved on to banging his glass on the bar. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Go,” Kevin told her. “I’m just going to hang out and watch the game for a while.”

  “No problem,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look before wandering down the bar to check on her customers.

  She gave the glass-banging idiot a refill with a side of dirty look. A group came in and took a table in the corner, in Darcy’s section. A few regulars came in on their heels, dispersing to their usual spots, mostly at the bar.

  “Boston suits at table ten,” Darcy said. A petite, quiet brunette, she was Paulie’s opposite in almost every way. And she was a great waitress with a sunny personality that made up for her total lack of interest in sports.

  Paulie nodded, giving the group a once-over from behind the bar. Like other groups of businessmen from the city, they’d go one way or the other—they either wouldn’t tip for shit or it was Darcy’s lucky day. Couldn’t tell from looking at them which type they were.

  Dick Beauchamp was sitting with them, though, and he wouldn’t let the staff of his favorite watering hole get stiffed. Odd to see him so early or in his suit, though. One of his companions threw back his head and laughed.

  Paulie’s heart stopped.

  “Oh shit.” She dropped to the floor, hiding behind the bar.

  “Paulie?” Darcy must have climbed onto a stool because she peered over the bar. “You okay?”

  “No,” she hissed, waving for the waitress to go away.

  This wasn’t happening. Of all the sports bars in all the world, Samuel Thomas Logan the fucking Fourth had to walk into hers?

  “Go away,” she barked at Kevin’s kneecaps when he walked over to investigate.

  “Tell me those aren’t FBI agents hunting a tall, redheaded fugitive.”

  “Of course not, dumbass.” It was worse. So much worse.

  “Dick’s bringing one of them over here,” he told her. “Must want to show you off.”

  “Shit.” She tried to scramble away on her hands and knees, but Dick’s face popped over the bar.

  “Hey, Paulie, you hiding back there? Got somebody here I want you to meet.”

  Before she could strike a hurried bargain with a higher power, Sam Logan’s face appeared next to Dick’s. She froze, as did his expression for a long moment.

  He looked a lot like he had the last time she’d seen him. Because he loved being outdoors, his tanned skin set off his green eyes. He kept his dark hair clipped short because he didn’t have the time or patience to fuss with it or make salon appointments, so he simply ran a clipper over it as needed.

  The suit was different, of course. The last time she saw him, he’d been wearing a tux, standing at the end of the rose-petal-strewn aisle with his best friend at his side. Their boutonnieres had been pale blush blossoms to match her bouquet. The same bouquet she dropped as she turned and fled, tripping over the long train of her wedding gown before she’d managed to gather it all in her arms and run.

  His expression was similar, though. Stunned. “Paulette?”

  “Paulette?” Dick echoed. “Hell, we just call her Paulie. How do you two know each other?”

  “Please don’t,” she mouthed at Sam.

  When he arched an eyebrow at her, she knew the gig was up and felt a pang of mourning for the awesome life she’d lived for the last five years. “How do we know each other? Very, very well, as a matter of fact.”

  Dick seemed to expect him to say more, but when Sam didn’t elaborate, he laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Small world, huh?”

  He could say that again. Jasper’s Bar & Grille was the last place in the world Sam Logan should have shown up. Yet there he was, looking down at her like she was a bug and he was wondering whether or not she was worth the effort of stepping on. Hopefully he’d decide she wasn’t and she could scurry away and find a dark corner to hide in.

  But Dick Beauchamp wasn’t done yet. “Since you moved in just around the corner, you and Paulie will have plenty of time to catch up.”

  Moved in? Around the corner? Paulie’s stomach somersaulted as she tried to push herself to her feet. If Sam was going to get revenge by spilling her secrets, she could at least try to salvage some of her dignity.

  “Yes, we will.” Sam gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Paulie watched him walk back to his table, the knot in her stomach pulling tighter and tighter. She didn’t want him to be in touch. He was from her old life and there was no place for him in her new life.

  Once they were alone, Kevin stepped close and leaned against the bar.
“You want me to throw him out?”

  Yes, she did. And she knew he’d do it, no questions asked. “No. He won’t cause any trouble.”

  Not to anybody else. Only to her. There was no doubt in her mind Sam Logan was going to cause her all kinds of trouble.

  ***

  Kevin deliberately waited until Sunday evening to make the drive to his parents’ house.

  The lives of Leo and Mary Kowalski revolved around their children and grandchildren, but Mary had declared those few Sunday hours off-limits to them. He was breaking the rules, but it was the only time he could be sure none of the others would be around.

  Because it was off-limits hours, he rang the doorbell. His parents were getting up there, but no way in hell was he taking the chance of walking in on something no amount of Sam Adams would wash from his psyche.

  “Kevin!” His mother looked happy to see him, but the worry was there around her eyes. “Your father and I were sitting on the back deck. It’s getting chilly but winter’s coming so we’re getting some fresh air while we can. Grab a drink and come on out.”

  He grabbed a bottle of iced tea from the fridge and zipped his sweatshirt before heading out onto the deck. His parents each had a lounge chair, so he pulled up the wicker rocker and eased into it. “You guys remember the woman who ran the bar at Joe’s wedding? Beth?”

  “How could we forget?” his mother asked. “They almost threw us all out into the street after Joseph tried to hire her to dance with you.”

  “Pretty brunette” Leo added.

  “Yeah.” He turned the bottle in his hands, then settled on picking at the corner of the label with his thumbnail. “When the reception was over I went for a walk and…she’s pregnant.”

  They were both quiet a moment, exchanging one of those old-married-people looks he still couldn’t decipher, but which made him squirm. He and Beth were both adults, but that didn’t make telling his parents he’d accidentally gotten a woman pregnant any easier.

  “Lot easier to walk with your fly zipped,” Leo grumbled.

  His mother swung her legs off the side of the lounger so she could sit up straight. “I didn’t realize you were seeing her.”