“I have a lot of problems right now and I’d like to take my aggressions out on someone.”
That should probably scare her off for a lot of reasons, but she merely smiles. “If you need to talk, I have two ears. And I’m a terrible waitress, as you may have gathered, so my other tables won’t be shocked that I’m ignoring them.”
“Why do you want to listen to my problems?”
Shrugging and tucking her hair behind her ear, she scoots back in her seat. “Why not? You’ll probably feel better if you get it all out.”
“You don’t even know me. Why do you care if I feel better?”
Again, she shrugs. “Just being nice, I guess. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone you don’t actually know and you don’t have to see all the time, because you can say whatever you want. If you don’t want to talk, I can get you a drink instead. Try to level up my waitressing skills.”
“That’s probably a better idea,” I tell her.
Accepting that easily, she nods and stands. “Sure thing. What would you like?”
An image pops up of Mia at Ben’s house last year, walking toward me in a bikini with a drink in her hand. Laurel follows, cheeks flushed prettily as she leans in and pours me wine at Easter dinner. Cassandra’s memory is right on their heels, sitting at a bar in a tight red dress back when we were together. She dips a finger into my drink, then brings it to my mouth and shoves her finger inside, her gaze heating with desire.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“My cousin’s wife. And the girl I may have impregnated. And maybe my ex.”
The woman’s eyes widen, her expression vaguely horrified, then she drops back into the seat. “Oh, wow. Maybe we should start at the beginning.”
I shake my head, not interested in putting my life under a microscope with this stranger. “It doesn’t matter. My head is just a fucking mess right now. Ever since she told me she’s pregnant, I feel like I’m in a tailspin that I can’t steer out of.”
“It sounds like it,” she says, her face a mask of sympathy. “It seems unlikely you really want all those women though, right? I mean, you’re one man. What do the women represent to you? Let’s start there, figure out if they all have something in common. Let’s start with the pregnant one—that seems most pressing. What’s the problem with her?”
“When she told me she was pregnant, I didn’t believe the baby was mine. I’m still not sure. Long story short, I was an asshole and now she doesn’t like me anymore.”
“Maybe it’s not that she doesn’t like you, it’s just that you hurt her feelings. I know that would hurt my feelings. Have you tried talking to her since?”
“I have. She doesn’t want to talk to me. She’s also fucking one of my employees now.”
“Oh, dear,” the waitress murmurs. “So, you can’t have her. And the first one you mentioned is someone’s wife, so you can’t have her, either. Let me guess—the ex is also unavailable?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “I could have her, but I probably couldn’t keep her. And even if I did, she would make me absolutely fucking miserable. She’s a terrible person.”
Nodding like she understands, the waitress says, “Okay, so you just want what you can’t have. You don’t really want to break up two relationships and get back with your ex—”
“They’re not in a relationship,” I snap.
The waitress pauses.
“Laurel and Sin. They’re just fucking, it’s not… No. Sin doesn’t even date, so I don’t know why he’s doing this shit to begin with, but it is not a fucking relationship. I’m going to steal her back from the motherfucker. He deserves it for putting his hands on what rightfully belongs to me.”
Her brow furrows, like she doesn’t approve. “You’re going to steal her back because you actually want her, or just because you don’t want him to have her?”
An image of Laurel holding a baby comes back to me—it’s from Easter, her holding Mia’s son, Dom. She did look sweet with a baby; it’s just that I don’t want any babies. The mere thought causes me to break out in a cold sweat.
Flicking a glance at the waitress, I ask, “You have kids?”
Pointing at herself, she asks, “Me? No. I have a hard enough time keeping myself fed right now. I’m only in college.”
“So is she,” I murmur. “I don’t even know if she wants to have a baby. I didn’t even ask her. Man, I am an asshole.”
The waitress doesn’t disagree with me, but she shrugs. “You were surprised. It’s alarming news if you don’t expect it.” Missing a beat, she says, “So, she’s young.”
I nod my head. “My cousin has kids and he seems to like it, but he was never scared of it to begin with. That’s not the kind of thing you want to attempt and fuck up. You can’t just have a kid, realize you don’t like parenting, and change your mind. Once it’s done, it’s done. That’s a permanent fixture in your life, for better or worse. I probably wouldn’t be any good at it.”