Kevin managed to avoid pointing out his mother was well insulated from the summer heat, too, by shoving a forkful of pot roast in his mouth. Even though Thanksgiving was right around the corner, they were having a family dinner to celebrate Joe and Keri returning from their honeymoon on some tropical island where an amorous, sunset moment had apparently led to Joe getting sand where the sun didn’t shine.
When there was a rare lull in the conversation, Kevin set down his fork and cleared his throat. “So Beth and I have some news.”
“Who’s Beth?” Keri asked.
“The bartender at your wedding.”
“Oh, that’s right. How could I forget when my husband almost got thrown out of our own reception for trying to hire her like a hooker or something.”
“What’s a hooker?” Bobby asked.
Keri’s island tan flushed pink. “Oops.”
“You put it on the end of a fishing pole, dummy,” Brian explained.
Bobby frowned. “Uncle Joe tried to hire a worm?”
“No,” Danny told his younger brothers. “Not that kind of hooker.”
“Enough,” Lisa yelled at her kids. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“I’m going to be a genius when I get older,” Brian mumbled at his plate.
“We’re having a baby,” Kevin said before his family could fly off on another tangent. “At the end of June.”
The only time he’d ever heard his mother’s dining room that silent was the night he’d stayed over during a Nor’easter and snuck down to rummage through the fridge at two in the morning. Then, of course, everybody spoke at once.
One young voice stuck out. “Uncle Kevin’s having a baby with a hooker?”
He slapped his forehead. Not good.
“I’ll talk to them before they go back to school on Monday,” Lisa promised.
“Thanks.” He was having a hard enough time convincing Beth he was a decent guy without trying to explain why his nephew thought she was a prostitute…or fish bait.
As the questions flew at him, he realized how few answers he had. Other than the baby’s due date and the fact Beth had moved across the hall from him because her apartment had lead paint—but no, they weren’t living together—there wasn’t much he could tell them.
“Why didn’t you bring her with you?” Mike asked when the conversation had settled to a dull roar.
“She’s probably working. I tried calling the apartment to invite her, but she didn’t answer. And she doesn’t have a cellphone.”
His niece almost inhaled the mashed potatoes she was forcing down under her grandmother’s watchful eye. “She doesn’t have a cell? Seriously? How does she text people?”
“I think she actually talks to people, like they did in the old days.” It was a good question, though. Not how she texted people, but how she’d reach out if she needed help. What if she had a problem and couldn’t reach him? She needed a cellphone, dammit.
An hour later, Kevin left the family room in the direction of the bathroom, but took a detour into the kitchen instead, hoping to sneak some of the leftover peach cobbler. He found Terry there already, with the plastic wrap peeled back and fork in hand.
“Busted.”
She jumped, then grinned and put a finger to her lips. “Grab a fork.”
He joined her over the cobbler and dropped an arm around her shoulders. “How you been, sis?”
“Better. The counseling helps.”
Earlier in the year, Terry and Evan had hit a rough patch and separated and, though they’d reconciled, their marriage was very much a work in progress. “Glad to hear it. You know we’re all pulling for you.”
“Stop pulling the plastic back so much. She’ll smell the peaches.” She shoveled in another bite, then swallowed. “So Doctor Tiffany, who’s like twelve years old and twirls her hair, which makes me want to slap her hand, says I have control issues.”
“You? No.”
“Very funny. Don’t put the fork in the sink, dumbass. Put it in the dishwasher or she’ll know.” Terry pulled the plastic wrap back over the cobbler, making sure it was on just so. “So…a baby, huh?”
“Yeah.” Kevin leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “Just my luck. I finally start a family and it’s with the one woman who walks into my bar and doesn’t throw herself at me.”
“I can give you Doctor Tiffany’s number.”
He laughed, then slapped his hand over his mouth. “Shit.”
Too late. “You two better wrap that cobbler back up just the way I left it or it’ll dry out.”
“Yes, Ma,” Kevin bellowed in the direction of the family room.
Terry rolled her eyes, then licked her thumb. “You’ve got a bit of cobbler. Hold still.”
He ducked left and swiped his sleeve across his mouth. “Don’t even think about spit-washing my face.”
“Just wait. Couple years from now, you and Beth’ll be running around spit-washing random people, too.”
He snorted, but his mind had fast-forwarded a couple of years into the future. He’d have a walking, talking little guy or girl of his own. But he wasn’t sure if he and Beth would be running around doing anything together.
Sometimes, late at night when he was staring at his ceiling instead of sleeping, he worried she’d take off. She was nomadic by nature. Her parents lived in Florida. She had no ties to New Hampshire other than the pregnancy. There was nothing to stop her from hitting the road, taking their child with her.
Nothing but him convincing her she wanted to stay.
The happy peach cobbler glow was fading, so he grabbed a clean fork and peeled back the plastic wrap. Just a few more bites.
Chapter Eight
Beth was pretty sure Friday supper shifts were one of the circles of hell. She’d made some good tips, but it was hectic between the regulars and the tourists jumping off the highway for a bite to eat. And, since her conversation with Julia, she’d been concentrating on not resting her hand over the place where she’d soon have a baby bump, and that kind of self-awareness was exhausting.
Unable to summon the energy to be sociable, she let herself in the back door of Jasper’s to avoid going through the bar. She’d already hit the up button on the elevator before she realized she should have taken the damn stairs. You could hear the elevator motor in the kitchen and anybody at that end of the bar could feel the subtle vibration.
Sure enough, she hadn’t even gotten her shoes off yet when there was a knock on her door. She let Kevin in and sank onto the couch.
“I only have a few minutes because it’s insane downstairs,” he told her, and she said a silent prayer of thanks for busy Friday nights at the bar. She wasn’t in the mood for company. He pulled out a cellphone and a user’s manual and handed them to her. “I got you something.”
“What is this?”
“It’s a…cellphone? I know you don’t have one, but you have to have seen them on television, at least.”
“Smartass. I know it’s a cellphone, but what’s it for?”
“Making phone calls.”
“Oh, for the love of…” She tossed the phone on the coffee table and stood up. He was a royal pain in the ass and she’d had her fill of those today. Pushing past him, she headed for the fridge. “Forget it.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” He touched her arm, but she kept walking. “Beth, come on. It was funny!”
“I’m tired, Kevin.”
“The phone’s yours. I programmed my number in—it’s the emergency contact, too—and my parents and my brothers and Terry and…oh, Paulie. Hell, everybody’s programmed in there.”
He’d bought her a cellphone. She jerked open the fridge door and stared at the contents, as much to cool her face as to find a snack. If she wanted a damn cellphone, she’d buy one. Sure, it wouldn’t have any bells and whistles and it would be a pre-paid thing, but she could buy her own.
“You’re mad.”
Yes, she was mad. “It’s not your job to
buy me things.”
“It was no big deal. I went to a family plan and added your line. Cheapest way to do it, so it made sense. They both have texting, too, if you want to try that sexting thing…”
Family plan. The word hit her like a punch to the face.
She’d made it clear they weren’t a couple and he’d gone and made them a family. With his cellphone in her pocket, the hovering would start. Where was she? What was she doing? When would she be home?
Beth slowly closed the fridge door—so she wouldn’t slam it like she really wanted to—and turned to face him. “A family plan.”
He shrugged. “That’s just what they call it. Like I said, it’s no big deal.”
It was a very big deal, but she was starting to think having this conversation with Kevin was like beating her head against a good-looking, T-shirt-clad brick wall. “It is a big deal and the fact you still don’t get why it is tells me I was right about you.”
“Right about what?”
“That you’d try to take over my life.”
“Well, excuse the hell outta me for being a nice guy.” He threw up his hands and anger tightened his jaw. “What do you want me to do, Beth? Ignore you? Pretend you don’t exist until it’s time to send you a child support check every month?”
She could do angry, too. “So there’s nothing between ignoring me and sharing a family plan?”
“You need a goddamn cellphone!”
“No, I don’t. And if I did, I’d buy my own goddamn cellphone.”
“What if you need help? What if you think something’s wrong with the baby?”
She wasn’t going to be manipulated into caving by his using her pregnancy against her. “Women gave birth in this country for almost four hundred years without cellphones.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “That’s a great argument, Beth. You plan to go squat in the woods when your water breaks, too?”
Before communications broke down any further, Beth turned and took a deep breath. She wanted to say something reasonable—if not quite conciliatory—but she couldn’t think over the word family echoing through her mind.
And Kevin didn’t give her a chance. “News flash for you—that baby you’re carrying is my responsibility even if you think you’re not, so I need to know you can call for help no matter where you are or what time it is. So I bought you a damn cellphone.”
He went to the door to let himself out, but stopped to look over his shoulder. “I’ll try to be more of an asshole from now on if that’ll make you happy.”
As if to prove his point, he pulled the door closed behind him so hard she felt it vibrate through the floor.
“Dammit.” Beth returned to the couch, sinking onto the soft cushions with a weary sigh.
She hadn’t meant to be such an irrational bitch. At least, she thought maybe she was. It’s not like he’d dictated what clothes she should wear. Or bought her a minivan. Or locked her in her apartment so she couldn’t go anywhere.
He’d bought her a cellphone. Not to take over her life but because he worried about her and the baby and knowing she had a phone would bring him some peace of mind. And he knew she didn’t have a lot of money so, instead of pushing her to get one, he’d added her to his plan.
His family plan.
And there was the word that had scared the crap out of her which, unfortunately for Kevin, manifested itself as an extreme fit of bitchiness he didn’t deserve. He really was a nice guy and the way he’d adjusted to a surprise pregnancy and impending fatherhood was nothing short of a miracle. So he’d bought her a phone. A simple thank you would have sufficed.
She picked up the phone and started thumbing through the menus. Her apology would have to wait until he wasn’t so busy—she’d already dumped enough on him—so in the meantime she’d get comfortable using it. There was Kevin’s number, just as he’d said, and marked as her emergency contact.
Besides the numerous members of his family and Paulie, he’d put in the bar’s number and the restaurant where she worked. The pharmacy. And he’d even put in her doctor’s number. Every number she could possibly need, already programmed in. It must have taken him a while, too.
Tears blurred her eyes, so she leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. She’d apologize in the morning and thank him for the gift.
And try not to dwell too much on the word family.
***
Kevin was shaving the next morning when his phone announced a new text message with a cheerful doorbell tone. Good thing it was out of arm’s reach or he might have smashed it.
Cheerful, he wasn’t.
A few more swipes of the razor and then he rinsed his face. The phone had moved on to a much less cheerful reminder beep by the time he was done patting dry and he flipped the thing open with a curse.
It was from Beth. I’m sorry.
He’d been sorry, too, while trying to maintain his cool finishing off his shift last night. And while he stared at the ceiling instead of sleeping, trying to figure out how he’d managed to screw things up so badly. Not that he thought he was wrong to buy her a cellphone because he wasn’t, but maybe he could have handled it better.
He knew, though, if he’d brought up the subject beforehand, she’d have told him no. She was proud, not that that was a bad thing, and she would have tried to convince him she didn’t need a cellphone. If he’d talked her into admitting she did, she would have bought one herself, probably going without something else in order to afford it.
Smarter, easier and cheaper to add her to his plan. And it might have gone smoother if she hadn’t been so tired and he hadn’t been such a smartass.
Apology accepted. Hungry?
He pulled his shirt on, his mood already improving. In the future, he’d have to remember to walk more softly around Beth’s pride, but they’d be okay. And she was using the phone, which was the most important thing. He wanted her to be able to reach him or anybody else if she ever needed help.
Sure. Fifteen minutes?
He smiled and hit Reply. I could serve you breakfast in bed.
Funny. In the hall, 15 mins.
He was ready, keys in hand, when she stepped out of her apartment, looking as tired as he felt. “Morning, sunshine.”
“Morning.” She closed her door, giving the knob a twist to make sure it was locked. “I’m ready.”
“Where should we go?” he asked as they rode down in the elevator. She seemed awkward with him, but he couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or still pissed off. Either way, he’d tread lightly.
“Someplace quiet…or really loud, I guess. Where we can talk.”
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. “I know just the place.”
He drove her to one of his favorite restaurants—a place he frequented often enough to request a quiet table away from the crowd. She waited until they had their coffee and had ordered before she got down to it.
“I like you, Kevin,” she started, and the little uh-oh voice got louder. There was usually a but after an opening like that. “But it’s like you’re pretending we’re a couple and we’re not.”
“We could be.” No sense in denying he wanted it.
“I told you when I moved into your building the personal aspect of our relationship is over and I thought I explained why, but you either don’t understand or you don’t respect what I was trying to say.”
“You said I’m overwhelming and suffocating which, quite frankly, offends me. There’s a big difference between taking over somebody’s life and helping a friend—and my unborn child—move out of an unsafe apartment.”
She looked miserable, but he felt pretty miserable, too. They needed to talk through this so they could move the hell on. And by moving on, he meant her accepting that the Kowalskis didn’t go through anything alone or want for anything they needed and she was close enough to a Kowalski to count. There were a whole bunch of people waiting for opportunities to give her gifts and do things to help her out.
&n
bsp; After taking a sip of her coffee, she stared down into the mug. “It would be so easy to let you take care of me.”
“Then let me.”
“I can’t.”
He reached across the table and took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of her knuckles. “Why?”
“Because I liked you before we—” She looked around. “Before we slept together. But if I…if I start liking you more now, how do I know it’s not just because I’m having your baby, which is scary, and it’s easier to let you take care of me?”
Rather than open his mouth and say something stupid, Kevin kept it zipped while he tried to come up with the right thing. Thankfully the waitress bought him an extra few minutes by delivering their plates and promising to come right back with the coffee pot.
When she was gone, he talked while they fixed their coffees. “So you’re afraid you’re more attracted to having somebody to lean on than the person who’s willing to be leaned on?”
“I guess you could put it that way. I’m just afraid if I get too used to leaning on you and you decide to walk away, I’ll…fall over, I guess. And that scares me because the one thing I’ve never needed is somebody to depend on.
“And I’m afraid I’ll hurt you, too. My parents…they’re great, but they stifled me. So I move around and, when I reach the point in relationships people start keeping tabs on me and making decisions for me, I get on a bus to someplace new. But I can’t do that this time.”
The key to getting through this conversation, he figured, was making sure he kept food in his mouth so the chewing could keep buying him time to think. He’d had sticky making up and/or breaking up conversations with women before, but this was a first for him. This was the first relationship he’d ever had he couldn’t make a clean break from and that made it sticky. No matter how badly they hurt each other or pissed each other off, they’d never be able to make a clean break. The baby bound them together forever and that put a shitload of pressure on the conversation at hand.
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