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Rory shrugged a shoulder as he faced the liquors on the back shelf. “So we do dinner with pudgy Mia—”
“Don’t call her that!”
Rory continued, ignoring Brenna. “It’s just one night, Con. Make nice, you asshole.”
I couldn’t help but feel like Brenna was setting one of us up with Mia. Rory, the Pokémon Go player, certainly wasn’t up to dating a woman who was knocked up, and me? Fuck that shit.
“She’s actually really pretty,” Brenna added, her brows up and a sly grin on her face. And that fucking look was aimed at me.
Yep, totally trying to set me up.
I pointed at her. “Do not.”
She feigned innocence and lifted her hands in the air. “I’m not doing anything, Con!”
“I like my life.”
“I know!” She put her hands down. “I just thought maybe if you saw her again, you would maybe think twice about all the hoes in your life.” She grinned at me. “Besides, I miss having her in my life. She was a good friend.”
“You were fucking ten.”
“Hey! That’s a pretty impressionable time in a young girl’s life!”
“She ditched you.”
“Yep, she totally did,” Rory added, as if he were actually a part of this tennis match and not an onlooker. Speaking of, the fucker wasn’t working.
“Rory. Do something with the bar.” Then to Brenna, “I don’t do relationships, Bren. You know that. I’ll make nice at dinner, but don’t expect anything more.”
The answering look on Brenna’s face…
I didn’t want to know what she had up her sleeve.
And quite frankly, at the moment I didn’t care. I had a bar to run.
Mia
Living in the town I grew up in had its moments.
Moments where I wished I’d chosen a teaching job anywhere else.
Unfortunately, of the schools I was offered a job at, the neighboring town of Imperial Beach, where I spent much of my youth, had the better program. As such, I taught second grade at an elementary school I went to, and often ran into old classmates at the grocery store.
Or ex-best friends at the mall. Namely, an ex-best friend whose brother put this big old basketball in this tummy of mine.
You know. People like that.
When Brenna asked about my husband, I froze. When she rephrased to ask about the “baby daddy,” I stumbled and looked at my feet. I wasn’t about to tell her my baby’s daddy was her older brother. I hadn’t even had the nerve to walk into the bar to tell him; I sure wasn’t going to tell his sister first.
But somehow I found myself doing just that, as I cried over an iced tea in the food court. I didn’t know why Brenna was being so nice to me, but she was extremely easy to talk to and there I was, blubbering at her like a freaking fool.
“Conor? My Conor?” she had asked.
I nodded and told her how he didn’t know who I was, and how it was just a one-night thing. How I never intended on seeing him again but after my irregular period was nearing three months late, I took the test and my stomach had dropped. What were the freaking odds I’d get pregnant my first time, and for Plan B failing too? It was as if the Gods were laughing at me, making an example out of the good girl who did one naughty thing.
Brenna simply hugged me and went on and on about how she and I could finally be close again. About how she was going to help me break the news to her brother. About how she and I could discuss it over dinner tomorrow night.
I was extremely thrown by this bombardment from Brenna but needing a friend, I took her up on her offer.
