She winks at me and heads back behind the counter. I watch her go, studying her. She’s older than me, with hints of gray in her frizzy blonde hair, and now that she mentioned the pregnancy, all I can see is the slight bulge of her belly under the apron. It must be rough to work on your feet at a diner all day while pregnant, and I think guiltily of the little guesthouse back at Natalie’s that I’m leaving behind.
And I think of Knox, who I’m also leaving behind. That hurts me more than any guest house. Why did he have to get so controlling? Why couldn’t he have left the situation with Keith alone? Instead, he stepped in like I was his property and he had to piss on me like a dog marking his territory. The sad thing is that I understand why he did it—I just don’t like that he did. It goes against everything that I’ve taught myself over the last ten years.
While I’m lost in thought, she brings the first plate of food to me and a glass of milk, and then sits down across from me. I’m surprised that she takes a seat, but a quick look around the place shows that there’s no one else around, the last customer having exited a few minutes ago. Great. My normal surliness at being around people doesn’t seem to be here tonight, though. I actually don’t mind the company. Maybe it’s because we’re both pregnant, or maybe I’ve just gone soft in the head. Maybe Knox boned all the brains out of me.
That’s more likely than me suddenly liking company.
“So how far along are you?” she asks, tilting her head and regarding me.
“About three months,” I say and fork a mouthful of hash browns into my face. Oh god, she’s right. They’re spicy and covered with maple syrup and it’s pretty much the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
“This your first one?” When I nod, she studies my hand as I reach for the milk. “Unmarried, huh?”
“Yeah, he’s an international spy and can’t settle down in one place,” I say, my sarcasm rising to the forefront at her nosy question.
She chuckles. “Sure he is. So he’s not in the picture?”
“Oh, he’s in the picture,” I grumble. A bit too much for my liking.
“But there’s problems, I take it.” The waitress gestures toward me. “Lemme see a photo and I’ll tell you if he’s worth it.”
I snort at that. Like she can tell me if he’s worth the hassle just by a look at him. But I pull my phone out and flip to a selfie we took together in front of a gravestone on one of our dates. Just looking at it makes me hurt, because he’s not even looking at the camera in the picture. He’s just staring at me like I’m the greatest thing ever created, and I wish again that he hadn’t ruined things. I wanted him in my life.
You don’t let anyone get close.
Okay, maybe I wanted him in my life on my terms, not his. I hand her the phone and shove another mouthful of food into my stomach, because it’s cramping up again out of stress.
The waitress studies the picture. I want her to comment on how cute he is. How gorgeous his eyes are with those long lashes and his strong face and that smile that makes me melt. But she just looks at it quietly and then looks at me again. “He younger?”
“Five years.”
“Mmm. That makes him pretty young to be a daddy. I don’t know if I like that.”
“Oh shit,” I say, feigning surprise before switching to sarcasm. “I completely forgot to get your approval before we banged. My bad.”
She harrumphs and shrugs. “I’m just saying. I’ve had three husbands and I’m about to marry number four. You learn certain things about men after the first few marriages.”
Clearly not, or else she’d stop marrying them. “Do tell.”
“Young men tend to flake out on a girl. They don’t like the idea of being daddies.”
I want to tell her that she’s wrong, that Knox pretty much wants nothing more than to be a father. I remember the ultrasound and when we heard the baby’s heartbeat, I thought he was going to break his face, he was smiling so widely. It was adorable and I’m pretty sure he melted the doctor’s heart with his excitement. I know he melted my panties. No, Knox isn’t like what she’s suggesting. He wants the family, and he wants to settle down with me. He’s the opposite of the advice she’s giving.
But that’d sound a bit like I’m defending him, so I just shrug.
“He’s kind of scruffy looking, if you ask me, with that beard and all.” She circles her finger around the image of him on the phone.
“He has to keep up his disguise so the law doesn’t get him,” I tell her, deadpan.
She just shoots me a patient look, and it’s one I recognize. Oh god, she’s mothering me. “All I’m saying,” she continues, “Is that it’s hard to find a good job with that kind of unkempt facial hair. He needs to think about that if he’s going to be a dad. Or is he unemployed?”
“Self-employed,” I tell her. It’s kind of the truth. If I told her he was a billionaire she’d probably tell me to jump on his jock and never leave. The thought’s amusing, really.
The waitress nods thoughtfully. “He’s got his own business, then? That’s good. Does he have insurance for the baby?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You need to ask,” she tells me. “It’s not just you that you have to think about, but that kid inside you. Do you know how much insurance costs? Why do you think I’m on my feet at this shithole all day?”
“The ambiance?”
She laughs. “Yeah, that’s it. No, honey, it’s because this is one of the few chains that offers insurance to their employees. All of ’em. Hell, I’m still paying off the hospital bill from the last one’s birth. Kids cost money.”
I stuff more food into my mouth, because she’s talking sense, and I don’t want to hear sense right now. I’m outraged and butthurt over Knox getting into my business.
“Look, he’s young, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve got that baby to think about. If he’s got a business, that means he can pay child support, and you’re going to need that money. Don’t be too proud to ask for help when it comes to babies. They’re a lot more work than anyone ever tells you. They’re worth it, of course, but I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that it’s great. It’s hard being a single mom.”
I know she’s trying to help out, and I swallow my food and offer her a faint smile. “I’m more ready to be a single mom than part of a couple.”
She gives me a knowing look. “He’s clingy and you’re running?”
Oh wow. She’s good. “Not really clingy. He just wants more than I’m ready to give him. Keeps getting into my business and all.”
“Spending your money?”
“No—”
“Tracking your phone calls? Not letting you talk to other people? Raise a hand to you?”
“Well, no—”
“Did he make you quit your job? Tell you how to dress? Does he try to change you?” She sets the phone down and crosses her arms over her chest, looking all mama bear at me despite the fact that she’s probably only five years older than me.
All of what she’s describing is pretty horrific, and from the expression on her face, I wonder how much of that she’s experienced herself. “No changing my appearance. And he was giving me money to help me set up my business. But—”
“Oh, honey, if you don’t want this young man, I do.” She chuckles. “He sounds better than my up-and-coming number four.”
I scowl at her, because the thought of Knox—my clever, sly Knox—flirting with this woman makes me want to fling things across the room. “He’s a pain in the ass. You don’t know him like I do.”
“Try me. You said he kept getting involved in your business. What’d he do?”
“He interfered with . . . an ex.” There’s no way to say it that it doesn’t sound crazy, now that I’m reasoning it out aloud.
“So you were cheating on your man with your ex?” Her expression grows icy.
“Uh, no. The ex was being a nuisance and Knox threatened him. I didn’t want him to get involved because I had it handled.”
The waitress gets a soft expression on her face. “Oh, honey. If that’s your biggest problem, I don’t know whether or not to hug you or slap you upside the head.”
“You don’t know what kind of girl I am. Maybe I like both.” And I give her an exaggerated wink, hoping she’ll find me weird and stop spouting advice. “Maybe I like it rough.”
“No, you don’t know what rough is. Rough is working a double shift and coming home at midnight to find the electricity is off and you’ve still got to pay the babysitter and make lunches for the next day. Rough is your youngest having the flu and giving it to you and you still have to get up at five in the morning for the breakfast rush and hope you get enough tips for cold medicine. Rough is an entirely different sort of thing when you have babies, honey.”
Her words sound far too sensible, and I hate that she’s making me feel like a petulant child. I also hate that everything she’s saying is right. If Knox trying to make Keith leave me alone is my biggest problem, I have a pretty good life. “Maybe so.”
She reaches over and puts her hand on mine, ignoring my cringe backward. “Let me tell you something about babies. How you’re feeling right now?”
“Queasy?”
“Protective,” she says, ignoring my sarcasm. “Protective and fierce about that little one. Like you’d do anything and everything in your power to ensure that baby has a good life? He probably feels that way about you. If he’s a little overprotective of the mother of his child, I don’t think that’s a flaw. Just imagine how he’ll be with that baby.”
I try to picture Knox with our baby. In my mind, the kid’s dressed in black onesies and wearing a tiny matching trucker cap that looks just like Knox’s favorite hat. I picture Knox’s expression while holding the kid . . . and okay, yeah, my ovaries melted a little. I picture Knox swapping pacifiers out on the baby to see if he’d notice, but if he’s Knox’s kid, he’ll notice. His dad won’t be able to get anything past him.