His Best Friend's Sister: A Secret Baby Romance

by Natasha L. Black

  I tried to feel better about the situation by convincing myself that was all it was. That I was right, and Ava was wrong. That any murkiness I felt about Becca was purely temporary and would go away soon when she found herself. Perhaps even my current malaise over working at the bar was part of it. Maybe I just needed to accept that I wasn’t happy working here and was looking for an escape, something to excite me. And pining for someone I couldn’t have was certainly exciting, if frustrating. That’s what it had to be. A complex combination of frustration, anxiety, boredom, and loneliness was causing me to fixate on her.

  I just needed to let it go. Despite my shower session, and her friend request, nothing could happen between us that wouldn’t be something we would both instantly regret and might even cause problems in my friendship with the most important friend in my life. I couldn’t let that happen, either.

  It was better to chalk up the interactions we had, and the little shower session from earlier, as one-offs and move on. From now on, Becca was just a friend. Barely even that. The sister of a friend. Just like it had always been. And how it needed to stay.

  10

  Becca

  I spent the entire day after sending in my application for the internship trying to figure out how I was going to tell my parents about it. After dinner with Nick the other night, their feelings about me continuing to pursue my career in psychology were pretty clear. Not only did they not think I could handle it, but they would have been more than happy if I just didn’t leave the house at all.

  But no matter how much I was dreading the conversation, I couldn’t avoid it forever. They would notice as I just kept mysteriously getting dressed in business clothes and disappearing for most of the day. There was only but so many errands I could possibly run.

  Besides, I didn’t want to hide it from them. I wasn’t ashamed of it, and I also wanted to be very clear with them that I wasn’t going to let their ill opinions about my career of choice sway me. I was taking control of my life, and getting this internship was going to be a big part of that.

  Knowing it was just going to get harder and more awkward if I continued to wait, I went into the living room after dinner. My mother sat with her needlecrafts as close as humanly possible to the lamp on the side table. My father sat in his recliner watching the news.

  “Can I talk to you guys for a minute?” I asked.

  They both looked up at me, and as I expected, concern flickered across their faces. We had gotten to the point where I could barely even speak without them being worried.

  “What’s going on, honey? Is something wrong?” Mom asked.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. In fact, things could be really good soon,” I said. “I applied for an internship today.”

  “What kind of internship?” my father asked.

  “It’s at a therapist’s office over in Lawrence,” I said.

  My mother gasped as if I just told her I had applied for a job as a vulture target in the Badlands.

  “Lawrence? If you can’t be serious. You can’t travel that far to work every day,” she said.

  “It’s really not that far, Mom. It will take me maybe half an hour to get there. But even if it did take longer than that, this is what I have always wanted to do with my life. I was really lucky to find the internship, and I’m excited about it.”

  “Who is this person you’re planning on working with?” Dad asked. “Are they reputable?”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “This is a real office with a well-known and respected therapist. I have done extensive research on her and what she’s done in the industry. Not only is she incredibly admired for her success and her ability to manage even difficult cases, but she is, by all accounts, a stand-up human. She is absolutely amazing and has no skeletons hidden in her closet,” I said. “Figuratively or literally.”

  “How would you know that?” Dad asked. “They’re hidden. That’s the whole point of them being skeletons in your closet. She wouldn’t add them to her About Me page on her website.”

  Mom shook her head, lowering her stitching to her lap. “Honey, everyone has skeletons. Just look at your ex.”

  That officially pissed me off. She’d crossed a line.

  “You know what? I’m done with this. I’m not going to argue with the two of you about what I do with my future because, frankly, you don’t have any say in it. I came to tell you about the application because I wanted you to know what was going on. And maybe because I’m excited about it and thought for a brief second there you might be able to get over yourselves long enough to be happy for me. But I guess not,” I said.

  It was harsher than I wanted it to be, but I couldn’t stop the words. Without even waiting for a response, I stormed out of the house and headed directly for the bar. I called Melissa while I was on the way and asked if she wanted to meet up with me there. She sounded disappointed when she told me she was busy, and worried when I said I was still going.

  “Are you alright?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

  “Just my parents,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. Have fun on your date tonight, and I’ll tell you everything the next time we hang out.”

  It was still early enough in the evening that the biggest crowds hadn’t yet streamed into the bar. I walked right in and went to the same seats where Melissa and I had sat on my first night there. Tyler was whisking back and forth between the kitchen and behind the bar, but when he noticed me, he came over and paused.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I could use a drink,” I said.

  He didn’t push but gave a nod and went over to the glassware to grab a rocks glass. He made me my drink and slid it across the bar to me. I picked it up and swigged it down quickly, sliding the glass back over to him. Tyler picked it up and looked down into it before filling it again. I downed that one just as quickly as the first. It burned, but I wanted the alcohol in me as fast as I could get it.

  “Maybe you should slow down,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to slow down. Give me another one.”

  “Not unless you promise to drink it slower.”

  “Fine,” I said. “But it would be really nice to just blank my mind out for a little while.”

  He filled the glass for me again and set a large ice water next to it. I rolled my eyes but kept my promise by taking slower sips, and Tyler seemed satisfied.

  “So, what’s going on? What brought you out here to blank out your mind?” he asked.

  “You know the other day at the library I was telling you about that internship I found? The one at the therapist’s office in Lawrence?”

  “Yeah, it sounded really fantastic. Did you get it already?”

  “No. But I sent in the application this morning. Then this evening, I decided to tell my parents about it. I knew they weren’t going to be like jumping up and down and clicking their heels over it or anything. Neither one of them wants me having a serious career, especially in child psychology. But I thought that maybe I could tell them how important it was to me and they would try to put aside their feelings. Maybe they could even be excited for me,” I said.

  “Why do I have a feeling that isn’t the way it worked out?” he asked.

  “Because you are very perceptive. I can assure you this is not the beginning of a congratulatory party. Neither one of them had a single good thing to say about the application or the internship. They both don’t want me traveling out of town, and they don’t think it’s the right thing for me.”

  “How could they say that?”

  “Because they have no idea what they’re talking about, yet they still feel like they need to interject their opinions and everything, and we got into a huge fight,” I said.

  “I’m really sorry,” Tyler said. “You know, owning this bar definitely isn’t what I wanted in my life. As a matter of fact, I wanted to get into technology. I was out for a huge scholarship and couldn’t wait for my whole life to start unfolding.”

&nb
sp; “What happened?” I asked.

  “Somebody else got the scholarship. My family didn’t have enough money to afford to send me to the school. So my dreams fell by the wayside. Now I’m here. I’m very happy and really enjoying running the bar with my brothers. But I can understand feeling like your dream has been taken away from you.”

  Over the next couple of hours, I continued nursing drinks until I was feeling particularly off-balance.

  “Hey,” Tyler said. “You look like you’ve had enough. Why don’t we get you home?”

  “Home to my parents’ house?” I asked.

  “No. Not tonight. Home to Nick’s house. He told me from the beginning of all this that he wanted you with him, and to make sure if you were too drunk to go home, I was to bring you to him.”

  By the time we got up to the front door of Nick’s house, I was pretty well gone. Tyler knocked, and my brother opened the door. At first, he seemed to only notice Tyler and grinned. Then he saw me and some of that expression faded away, replaced by annoyance.

  “Why did you serve her so much?” he asked.

  “I didn’t realize that I did. I didn’t know she was such a lightweight,” he said.

  That instantly offended me. “Hey, I’m not a lightweight.”

  Nick gave instructions, and Tyler brought me to a spare bedroom. He set me down on the bed and sat down beside me. He started to say something, but I didn’t want to listen. Instead, I kissed him. We kissed deeply for a few seconds before he pulled away. Even in my drunk state, I knew I’d made a mistake.

  “Go ahead and get some rest,” he said before getting up and practically running out of the room.

  11

  Tyler

  Becca had thrown herself at me, and I had to turn her down. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to. Nick was right down the hall, and she had been drinking. It just wasn’t right. She’d kissed me, and there was far more in that kiss than just the bored and frustrated feelings of a person who wanted some comfort. There was something else there. Something deeper.

  I drove home, replaying the moment in my mind over and over, wondering if I’d somehow made a mistake. Should I have called Nick to come get her?

  Or when I got her there, maybe I should have just left her to Nick, rather than bringing her upstairs. Maybe I should have just brought her to the door of her room and ran away. But I didn’t. I helped her all the way into our lips locking. That’s what I did. And while she might not remember it in the morning, it wasn’t going to leave my mind anytime soon.

  Because it had felt pretty damn amazing.

  The next day, I was back at the bar, doing my thing, when the door opened and I happened to look up and meet eyes with the person coming in. My “oh shit” face must have been evident, because when Becca saw me, she grimaced in an ashamed sort of way. She made her way to the bar and took a seat, and I couldn’t help but fixate on how incredibly hot she was. And how much I wanted to recreate that kiss on those full, pouty lips and wonder what they would feel like on the rest of my body.

  I had to stop.

  “Hey,” she said, as I tried to wipe certain thoughts from my brain like shaking an Etch-A-Sketch.

  “Hey,” I said. “How are you today?”

  She pulled her lips to one side and made a face that was simultaneously expressing disappointment in herself as well as being stupidly cute.

  “I’m fine, I guess. It’s why I came in, actually,” she said. “I wanted to talk about last night.”

  “What about last night?” I said, playing dumb.

  “You know,” she said. Then she leaned in a little closer, and her eyes cut seriously. “You know.”

  “No need to apologize.”

  She shook her head. “I got really drunk. It was my own fault,” she said. “I am a lightweight. And I know that about myself. But I intentionally went beyond where I knew my limit was because I was having fun with you and because I was frustrated with everything.”

  I nodded along, picking up various glasses and buffing them clean. Or cleaner. It was a classic bartender move, seen on every TV show ever, and I did it as a habit, whether the glasses needed it or not.

  “Yeah, well, you learned that lesson, then, didn’t you?” I asked. “Plus, I now know where your limit is, too, and I know when to stop you.” I smiled. I hoped it was an amiable smile that said nothing more than the words that had come from my lips. Maybe she didn’t remember the rest of the night. Maybe I could just put it behind us and try to move on like nothing happened.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Right.” I laughed, looking to breeze right past it all.

  “I’m sorry I behaved so poorly,” she said, looking down at her hands as she spoke. “I don’t really remember much about what happened once we left.”

  “Well, that’s probably a good thing.”

  “Why?” she asked. Suddenly I was tight-lipped. She didn’t seem to remember the kiss, and I had no intention of telling her, but now I was caught by my own flippant words and needed to figure out something to tell her. “Did something happen?”

  “No,” I lied. “You didn’t do anything crazy. Just got silly and stumbled around a little. I got you home with no fanfare.”

  “I didn’t throw up in your truck, did I?” she asked, a look on her face that told me that had happened to her at least once, and it was a memory she would very much like to never repeat.

  “No, the truck is vomit-free,” I said. “Are you going to stick around tonight?” I asked, hoping to move the subject along to something else.

  “Yes, actually,” she said, “but I’m going to stay sober tonight. No alcohol. Feel free to keep the zero-calorie sodas coming, though.”

  I nodded, feeling bummed for some reason. It wasn’t that she wasn’t going to drink—that didn’t matter to me, but it was something about her not remembering our kiss. As silly, and dangerous, as it was, I was a little miffed she didn’t recall it at all. Maybe I made up that feeling when our lips met. Maybe she really was just drunk and lonely after all.

  The door opened again, and Melissa walked in. There were only a few people at the bar at this time, but it was right about the time when that changed. Soon the bar would be full of folks looking to have a good time, and I was likely going to lose track of her, especially if Melissa was chatting her up. I decided that would be for the best, since I could focus on work and not worry about what that kiss meant or where it left me.

  The night breezed by, the bar getting busy but never overwhelming. Ava and Mason occasionally took shifts behind the bar to give me a break, and I barely saw Becca except in passing during those breaks. She was usually talking to Melissa, sipping on the clear soda I sent her early in the night or dancing by the jukebox. My eyes lingered on her just a bit longer when she was dancing, and I had to force myself to look away.

  I decided to take a break when Ava and Mason were behind the bar again around midnight. There was a small lull, right before the last big rush of the night, and I felt like I could use some fresh air. As I headed down the hall toward the door, I heard someone yelling frantically from the kitchen, and I stopped. Pushing my way through the double doors, I was hit by a wall of grey smoke.

  “Ah, fuck!” Jordan said from somewhere in the billows.

  “Jordan?” I yelled.

  “Tyler?” he called back. “Grab the extinguisher beside you and go hit the pan on the stove. I can’t find the one under the sink.”

  I grabbed the extinguisher and ran over, dousing it before it got any worse. It was very easily identifiable as a little grease fire, and nothing seemed to be damaged other than a hand towel that had caught flame. Jordan coughed as he came over.

  “New guy put too much oil on,” he said.

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “Where is he now?”

  “Went to hit the head,” he said, motioning his thumb toward the bathroom. “Guess he forgot he left the burner on, too.”

  “Might want to have a talk with him about that,” I sai
d, somewhat to myself.

  “Might just,” Jordan agreed.

  Frustrated with the detour, I headed back out to the back door, fully intent on taking my break and getting the fresh air, especially now that I had inhaled so much smoke. When I got outside, the cool air was bracing, and I took a deep breath of it. I had grabbed a drink to take with me before I left the bar, and I sat down on the top step to sip it when the door opened behind me.

  I looked up, expecting to see Jordan or the new cook, but was surprised to see Becca. She smiled with her lips closed and stood by the door apprehensively.

  “Is it okay if I join you?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  She walked over and sat down next to me, just a few inches separating us, and I could feel the electricity sparkle between us. Electricity that wasn’t supposed to be there. We were friends. Nothing more.

  “Melissa had to use the restroom,” she said to break the silence. I nodded. “Are you okay?”

  She must have been able to tell something was bothering me.

  “I’m fine. Just frustrated, I guess,” I said.

  “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to about it,” she said, leaving the answer to that question open.

  I smiled and nodded.

  “Thanks,” I said. “How are you?”

  “I’m still feeling a little hungover,” she said.

  “No, I meant how are you handling everything?” I asked, standing. She stood with me, and I put the glass down on the table next to us

  “Oh,” she said, looking down and then out over the alley behind the bar and into the expansions of the city beyond. It was still a growing area, but it was lively, even at midnight. Cars streamed down the streets, sometimes booming with music, other times revving their engine in what I assumed was supposed to be an impressive manner. “I’m… not doing so well.”

  She looked over at me, and I could tell there was trouble in that expression. Trouble for what she was going through, and trouble for me for how I was feeling about it. I wanted to reach out, to hold her, to kiss her. It was dumb, and borderline treasonous to my friendship with her brother to even think those things, but I couldn’t help it.