“Really?” Millie asks.
“I was alright, I guess. My brother still plays, and so does my sister.”
“You have a brother and sister?” Millie leans into the table and I feel this frantic need to keep her eyes on me.
“I have two brothers and three sisters.”
Millie’s eyes widen and I chuckle at her astonishment that there are six kids in my family. That’s what happens when your parents are strict old school Christians. Wait til marriage, no birth control, let the cards lie where Jesus tosses them.
“What are their names?”
“Jethro is twenty-seven, just a year younger than me, Priscilla is twenty-five, Delilah is twenty-two, Ezekiel is twenty, and Tabitha is eighteen, graduating high school this year.”
“Wow, already?” Briggs joins in and I nod.
“It’s crazy.” I lean back in the seat feeling more comfortable. We’re conversing. All of us. Having a conversation.
The waitress approaches our table and as soon as I make eye contact, all my confidence evaporates from my body in the heat of my discomfort.
“You?” the waitress says to me and Briggs frowns in disappointment while Millie tilts her head in confusion.
The waitress is tall and sexy and very pissed to see me. I wouldn’t blame her. The last time I saw her I was shit face drunk and spent the night at her apartment. I woke up with no clue what her name was and unable to find my underwear. I still don’t know what her name is.
She scans over to Briggs and Millie, her gaze snapping back and forth between Millie and me.
Oh shit.
This is ten ways to fucked up and I’m the bad guy in every scenario. She thinks this is my family. That I cheated on my wife with her, that I have a kid at home. I can’t exactly defend myself without openly admitting that I had no clue I was a dad and this is the first time meeting my kid.
Either way, I’m an asshole. So, I accept my fate and relax back into the booth.
I’ll give the waitress credit. She has professionalism by the boat load because her wild eyes settle and her smile is fake but barely.
“What can I get you to drink, Sweetie?” she asks Millie. Millie orders a coke, Briggs an iced tea.
“What do you have on tap?” I ask and Briggs shoots me a death glare.
“You don’t drink in front of her?” I do my best to ignore the waitress’ flash of confusion.
“I drink in front of her,” Briggs says, tilting her head to the side saturated in judgment. “You don’t drink in front of her. Not today, Xan.”
How many ways can I be reminded that I’m trash in a five-minute time span? A lot apparently.
“I’ll get a coke,” I finally say to the waitress and she leaves before I’m done speaking. Briggs still studies me with those goddamn trust seeking eyes.
“I thought it would take the edge off.” I don’t know why I feel defensive, but it tangles me up in a knotted ball.
“Do you do that often? Take the edge off?” Briggs asks me and she may as well slap me straight in the face. It would hurt less. Not to mention she sounds like Miss Uptight with her judgy eyebrows and scratching pencil.
“I’m not him, Briggs. You of all people know that.” The statement is so sharp she sits back in her chair.
I am not my father.
And I will never treat Millie like he treated me.
I’ve known this girl for all of ten minutes but there’s no truer statement.
I turn my attention back to Millie.
“So, I take it you like baseball?” I revert the conversation back to her. I want to know everything about her nine years and baseball sounds like a good place to start. Her face lights up.
“I love it. I’ve only ever gotten to play a few games. Mom and I move around a lot, especially in the summer. But I practice all the time. She makes sure any time we’re close she takes me to a batting cage to practice.”
Millie twists her hands in her lap as she talks, only making brief bits of eye contact. I have about seven million questions for Briggs but right now I want Millie to keep talking to me. I’m mesmerized by her voice, her mannerisms, her stories. How could I have lived my whole life before this not knowing the sound of her voice?