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“Let Nigel run the business then. He loves it. Let him be the workaholic and you go and have a baby.”
As if it were that simple. Just have a baby.
There were so many obstacles to that goal it was absurd. There was no way to readily extract herself from the business when her role was necessary and the company was still financially vulnerable. Nigel was on the fence about even having children. They had two separate apartments.
Oh, and they had sex once a month.
That was reality.
But what was also reality was that she had a great life overall.
She needed to embrace all that she did have and quit her complaining.
Her grandmother had always told her, “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”
There was nothing in her life worth throwing a fit about.
Except maybe the lack of orgasms.
She reached over and patted her dad’s knee. “Enough of that. Do you want some ice cream? I saw that quart you’re hiding in the back of the freezer. I say we split it.”
“There are actually two quarts in there,” her father said. “I say grab two spoons and let’s eat ourselves sick.”
Edwina laughed. “I’ll be right back.”
As she entered her childhood home, her grandmother’s voice echoed in her head.
You get what you get.
Settle.
Which one was it?
Sullivan had tradedshifts with his other bartender, Clyde, at Tap That because being in that tiny apartment with Eddie was a form of torture. There was nowhere to go where he wasn’t bumping into her. Where he wasn’t picking up her coffee mug with her lip stain on it, or finding her discarded sweaters or hair scrunchies, or the woman herself, always dressed in clothes that weren’t necessarily sexy but managed to be.
Jesse Lambert had just arrived back in town with his new girlfriend, Astrid Bouchard Anderson, daughter of a pro hockey team owner. Jesse was in the bar by himself, Astrid having decided to spend the evening with Leighton, Axl’s girlfriend, making wedding plans.
Everyone was locking it in. Committing to forever.
Normally having his friends mooning over the significant others gave him a mixed bag of emotions that included happiness for them, jealousy, skepticism, and crippling envy that left him feeling angry and horrible. Like the worst friend to ever exist. But tonight he was content to listen to Jesse go on and on about the merits of Astrid.
“She’s just so giving, so sweet,” Jesse said, shaking his head in wonderment and grinning as he lifted the whiskey glass to his lips. “Damn it, I’m so lucky.”
“I’m happy for you, man,” he said, and he meant it. Even if he was astonished that anyone could fall in love in a matter of days.
“Hey, look what I found,” Torin said, coming over to him with his phone in his hand.
It was a slow night and Torin had spent the last ten minutes leaning against the barback scrolling through his phone.
“If it’s weird porn I don’t need to see it,” Jesse said, pushing his forearms off the counter and sitting up straight. “Actually if it’s any porn I don't want to see it.”
Sullivan didn’t object to viewing porn and he didn’t have to answer to a girlfriend or wife, but he wasn’t particularly interested.
“It’s not porn. It’s modeling pictures of Edwina Hunt.”
That changed everything. He reached out and tried to rip the phone right out of Torin’s hand. “Give me that.”
“Hey, fucker, stop. I’ll show you but don’t be grabbing my phone. No one touches my phone.”
