At least I have one more reason to stop pining over her. Maybe this is the reason that will finally stick.
TWELVE
Kiersten
“I need two fingers of whiskey for Jimmy, and I guess Dwayne has decided he likes what he calls fruity drinks after all, so if we have any more Apple Pie Ales, he’ll take three.”
Paul chuckles, the rumble in his chest lighting up my hormones. Lately, it’s been my favorite sound and every night I find myself setting a goal to see how many times I can make it happen.
Damn Lauren for putting my crush into the forefront of my mind. I blame her for not being able to get him out of my thoughts since the other day at the barbecue. I refuse to believe it has anything to do with how much I enjoyed hanging out with him. Nope. It’s all Lauren’s fault.
“I knew he’d come around eventually. And he’s in luck—I stocked up on some today.” Paul pops the top off the bottle and puts it on the counter. “But he’s only getting one at a time.”
I shake my head in fake disappointment. “He’s going to be really mad he has to stop playing darts to order another.” Grabbing my tray, I drop the act and deliver the drinks as requested.
“Here ya go, gentlemen.”
Dwayne looks over from the dartboard where he’s getting ready for the next round of play by removing what Tammy and I refer to as the weapons. Let’s face it—anything a drunk can throw in a bar fight doesn’t have to be called by its official name. Darts are number one on that list. And Dwayne doesn’t look happy already. “What is that? I ordered three.”
“Sorry, Dwayne. Boss man says you can only have one at a time. But between you and me, they’re best straight from the fridge anyway. The colder the better.”
He considers my words then thanks me through his grumbles and gets back to his game. There is nothing Dwayne loves more than throwing pointy objects at that wall. Thank goodness he doesn’t lose his aim the longer he drinks and isn’t an angry drunk.
I quickly bus the vacated tables and wipe them down. There aren’t many. It’s another slow night. While it makes my job easier, I feel bad for Paul. I know he wants to increase business sooner rather than later, but it’s slow going at this point. Sure, we’re seeing a small increase in traffic, but I know it’s nothing like he’s hoping for.
Satisfied everything is covered for now, I head back to the bar to take a break and grab some caffeine.
Once I return the dirty glasses to the bar and load them into the dishwasher, Paul looks up from where he’s counting bottles. He’s holding an inventory form on a clipboard and I assume he’s taking advantage of the lack of customers to get some extra tasks done.
He smiles at me and once again, my insides melt a little. “Taking a break?”
Grabbing a clean glass, I fill it with ice and flip on the soda gun. “I could use some caffeine to get me through the night.”
“It’s only nine. You hit a brick wall already?”
I shake my head and take a long drink. “Carson decided on the day he was born that he’s a co-sleeper, but not even a snuggly one. He rolls around all night long. Last night was worse than normal. I don’t know if he was having nightmares or what, but it makes for really bad sleep when you have a foot in your back.”
“Oooh. And on your night off, too.”
“Tell me about it.” I fill the glass again, only sipping this time. “I should have known it would happen. Since I work nights, he only gets to sleep with me a couple of times a week now. I guess he’s missing me or something. Maybe he’s still transitioning a bit.”
Paul tosses the clipboard aside and grabs his own clean glass. Only he fills his with water. “I was wondering about that. Where does he go when you’re here?”
“You mean you couldn’t tell at the barbecue? He stays with Lauren and Heath.”
“Ah. That explains why Carson’s comfortable with them. And by them, I mean Heath.”
I giggle because he’s not wrong. As much as Carson loves Lauren, he’s all about Heath right now. “Oh yeah. They are basically best friends. And Heath just loves him so much. We argue all the time about how much he spoils my son.”
Paul chuckles. “There are worse things, though, right?”
“Definitely.” I lean back against the bar, taking some of the pressure off my feet. “They’re the reason we moved here. Well, them and the Harts. The four of them are the best support system anyone could ask for.”
Every once in a while, when I really think about it, I get almost teary with gratitude. Life is hard, but it would be much worse without them.
“I’m surprised his dad didn’t put up a fight when you moved here. Or does he live in the area?”
I stiffen at the reminder. It’s an innocent question and one I should have expected at some point, but it still catches me off guard. Spence’s death is a topic I prefer not to think much about. Actually, Spence’s life is not something I like to think about either. But I suppose there’s no harm in telling Paul the truth. It’s not like Spence is here to argue semantics. “Carson’s dad died in a car accident a couple of months before he was born.”
Paul’s eyes soften and I know he thinks he struck a nerve. He did, but not in the way he thinks. “I’m sorry. That must have been tough. To lose him like that.”
I shrug. I should feel sadness that Spence is gone, or at least sadness for my son who will never know his father. But after finding out things weren’t what they seemed between us, and the shit show that followed for the three years after, I stopped being sad. As guilty as it makes me feel, which isn’t much, I’m more relieved that Carson will never be raised in such a deceptive environment.
Crossing my arms, I carefully answer him. “Yes, but not really for the reasons you think.”
“What does that mean?”
Sharing all my dirty laundry isn’t high on my priority list, but something about Paul makes me feel safe. Like he won’t judge me. Or maybe he will, but he still won’t treat me any differently. Besides, Paul’s been around for a long time. He knows the shit on everyone. Hell, he’s a bartender by trade. I’m sure he’s heard worse. Might as well lay it all out there.
Taking a deep breath, I begin the story. “He wasn’t alone in the car.”
“Was he with a friend or something?”
“He was with his fiancée.”
I can tell by the look on Paul’s face, he’s deducing the wrong way regarding my involvement in the matter. While a false conclusion shouldn’t matter, I don’t want him making assumptions about me either. So, I clarify.
“A fiancée I didn’t know he had.”
Paul’s face changes to a look of surprise, probably not unlike mine when I found out at his funeral that I wasn’t his girlfriend. I was his side piece. An inconvenience his parents were trying to keep hidden and eventually rid themselves of. There’s nothing like being escorted out of a funeral while you’re seven months pregnant thanks to the deceased, to make it clear how absolutely unimportant you are.
“Her name was Blaire. She and I never crossed paths. We ran in different circles, so neither of us had any idea about the other. Or at least I assume she didn’t know about me since she was radio silent about me being pregnant. It wasn’t until Spence died, well they died, that I found out he had no intention of being with me.”