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The poor baby was seriously pissed off. Red-faced and wailing, shaking his tiny fists at the world. His mother didn't look much better, pale and worn out. Given that they had such tiny lungs, infants could unleash an extraordinary amount of sound. An unfortunate thing for this hour of the night. For any hour, really.
"He's teething," the woman said, having caught me staring.
"Oh."
Drool covered the baby's chin.
"I guess that would hurt like a bi ... bad thing."
"Hmm," said the woman, rubbing his little back.
Her gaze moved back and forth between me and the man loitering behind me, all tall and covered in tattoos, as we waited. Strands of freshly washed golden-red hair clung to the sides of his face, the color brilliant beneath the harsh lighting. His eyes were glued to the selection of denture accessories on the wall. He should have just stayed in the car. I told him he didn't need to accompany me into the twenty-four-hour drugstore. The drive had been awkward enough. Amazing sex shouldn't come with bad consequences. A few bruises, grass stains on my knees? Fine. Fear of pestilence, disease, and childbirth, not so fucking much.
"You have any of your own?" she asked.
I blinked. "Children? No. No-o-o."
The man behind me shifted uneasily.
"Not yet. One day, maybe," I babbled on, feeling just a wee bit self-conscious. "In the future, you know. There's no rush. Not that your little boy doesn't look lovely. He's just wonderful."
The baby bawled on.
"And becoming a parent, a good parent, it's a big deal. A lot of work."
No one else said anything.
"Vaughan," the woman said with a sudden smile. "My god, that is you. I'm Nina Harrison, we had English together senior year."
"Nina," he said, voice stilted. "Hey."
"How are you? I heard you left for L.A. with your band straight after graduation," she gushed. "How's that going?"
The muscles in his neck moved. "Ah, yeah. Good."
"Actually, I heard one of your songs on the radio a couple of years back. It wasn't bad!"
"Thanks."
"Ma'am. Your order's ready." The neat white-clad pharmacist nodded my way and sat a small box on the counter. "Side effects and more information are listed on the brochure inside the box. And please remember, it may delay your menstruation cycle by a couple of days. If you're over your usual menstruation date by more than two weeks, you might want to try taking a pregnancy test."
"Okay." My hand shook as I picked up the package and handed over the cash. "Thank you."
Nina stared at us, her mouth a perfect O. Like she'd never had unprotected sex. Puh-lease.
I charged toward the exit. Vaughan mumbled a goodbye and followed. The minute he unlocked the passenger door I jumped in, grabbing my bottle of water. Out came the post-coital contraception pill, then down my throat it went. Done.
Vaughan just looked at me, his face a blank mask. He was good at that. I'd seen it a couple of times now, but it was still impressive.
I on the other hand gave him my best plastic professional smile. "All good."
A nod.
"I am clean, I promise," I recited for the tenth time in the past few hours. "I had a test after college just to be safe. But I've always used protection."
"Yeah, me too."
"We've both been vigilant. This was just an anomaly." It was embarrassing, really. How foolish I'd been, first with the wedding that wasn't, and now with Vaughan. I frowned out at the glitter and glare of the drugstore's neon sign. A dancing bottle of drugs waved its arms back and forth. What the ever-loving fuck? "If I hadn't forgotten to take my pill on Sunday we wouldn't have even had to worry about rushing to the pharmacy like this."
"It's fine," he said.
"It's good that we did this. You can't be too careful."
"Yeah." He paused, shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lydia. I should have thought, I just got--"
"It's okay. We're both adults, Vaughan. We were both there."
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something. But he didn't.
With a turn of the key the Mustang's engine roared to life, same as always. Such an ostentatious hunk of metal. Much too loud for the middle of the night.
I thought again about how muscle cars, tattooed men, and other wild cool things weren't my thing. I craved stability. A sensible, settled life. The whole Chris thing had been a mistake, yes. Obviously. Next time I'd take things slower. Not get so carried away. Whatever the future brought, this temporary time of insanity was at an end. Dirty and crazy were not for me.
"I think I might test-drive a Prius tomorrow," I said, decision made. "One of the used car dealerships has a four-year-old model for sale."
Another nod.
We didn't talk again until we were back at his place. Even then, it was just a quiet good night as he disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door.
Me and my annoying ovaries were shut out.
Nausea and cramping made it difficult to sleep. So I sat up and read through the settlement offer from the Delaneys' lawyers. In fact, I read through it twice. Then, just for kicks, I read through it a third time. It took that long for the shock to die down.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Do I look like someone who wants to spend the rest of tonight crapping myself?" The cranky man shoved the antipasto platter into my hands. "I told the waiter I needed gluten free. I was very clear about it."
"I apologize for the mistake, sir," I said. "Let me get that fixed right away for you."
"Thank you," he ground out, his expression far from appreciative.
Whatever.
I hauled ass to the kitchen, where Boyd raised an eyebrow at me. "I need a new antipasto gluten free, please."
He nodded and got busy. Or rather, as the only chef in the kitchen tonight, stayed busy. Nell had called in sick after vomiting all day, the poor thing. Luckily the Dive Bar was only half full tonight.
God, I hoped I didn't come down with her virus. The morning-after pill had messed with me enough.
An almighty clatter came from the front counter. I spun around to find Masa standing there, a tray full of glasses shattered at his feet. Ice cubes, lemon slices, and straws, all spread out across the floor.
"Crap," I muttered.
Masa just made a small sound of despair and dropped to his knees, to clean up.
I grabbed the dustpan and brush, then joined him down there.
"I'm sorry," he said, hands moving frantically. "This won't take a minute."
"Slow down. You cutting yourself on broken glass won't help anyone."
He didn't say anything, but he did calm down. A start.
"What's going on with you?" I asked, carefully scooping up the remains of a beer bottle.
"What? Nothing," said the young man.
"Try again."
He just sniffed.
"Masa, you served mint to the woman with mint allergies, got the gluten-intolerant guy's order wrong, and told Boyd that the vegetarians at table eight wanted the chicken satay pizza instead of the margherita. And the list goes on."
He looked at me, dark eyes swollen and red.
"You're clearly upset and distracted," I said. "Talk to me."
He hung his head. "My girlfriend dumped me."
"Oh no. I'm so sorry."
"She's been fucking her tutor for months behind my back." Masa's chin wrinkled, his jaw rigid. "They're in love, apparently. She texted me just before work, told me all about it."
"What a bitch."
From over behind the bar, Eric watched us as he poured another beer. He made no move to come over, and communicated nothing with his gaze. So be it. Broken hearts were serious shit. Someone had to act before Masa accidentally set the place on fire while serving Baked Alaska, or something.
"Clean this up, then head home," I said, handing Masa the dustpan and brush. "I'll make sure Eric's okay with it."
"Are you sure?" He looked worried. As he probably should be.
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