43. Spark Of Hope
FORTY-THREE
SPARK OF HOPE
Eve
The doctor told me to be as stress-free as possible. You know what doesn’t help to be stress-free? Thinking about how to be stress-free. It’s stressing me out. Not only do I have my health to worry about but also the health of my baby boy.
I place the pint glass under the spout and pull the tap. The beer flows into the glass until it kisses the rim. I grab a cardboard coaster and slide it to the customer across from me. At the register, I ring in the total and glance up at a sign that reads Number of Days Without an Eve Accident: Ninety-three. A smile tugs at my mouth. I’ve come a long way. Not only with not breaking bottles but with my life. In elementary school, I remember we would draw pictures of what we wanted to be when we grew up. My drawings comprised of a ballerina, a singer, and a teacher. None of them were of me working at my brother’s bar and pregnant with my married ex-boyfriend’s child while dating my brother’s best friend. I doubt any six-year-olds have drawings like that. Life has a way of throwing wrenches at your plan, but what defines you is how you come out on the other end. I’ve come out being the happiest I’ve ever been, and I think that’s pretty damn good.
I close the register and return to the customer with their change. With a lull in customers, Rylee stops next to me. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m doing good. Luckily, I haven’t had too much discomfort like I’ve heard others have. But I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Rylee turns to me, giving me her full attention. “About what?”
I rest a hand on my growing belly. “Being pregnant and working in a bar isn’t the most ideal situation. Then, with my preeclampsia and working random shifts, it gets even harder.”
Rylee nods along. “Oh yeah, I’ve been there.”
“What did you do?”
“When I was pregnant with Kaelyn, Jake was really accommodating. Essentially, he made me a bar manager and put me on paperwork duty. He always made sure someone was working with me who could do the heavy lifting and always put me on day shifts. If I had an appointment, he ensured my shift was always covered, even if he had to do it himself. He’ll do the same for you.”
I blow out a deep breath. “Working in my brother’s bar was certainly never the dream.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t mine either, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. I get to work with my best friends. We’re more like a family than anything.”
“Lach says the same thing.” A slow smile stretches across my lips. “While I love the atmosphere, I don’t know if it’s what I see myself doing for the rest of my life.”
“You’re a photographer, right?”
“Was.” I give her the short version of my lackluster photography career from having my own studio, then losing it, to my most recent failure as an assistant.
“What if you did that again? Build your own photography studio.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “I’m thirty-four weeks pregnant with zero energy. I do not have two brain cells to rub together in order to open a business again.”
Rylee’s eyes light up like the flip of the switch on a neon bar sign. “Here me out. You have all the photography equipment, right? Camera. Lights. That kind of stuff.”
My brows pinch together. I’m not entirely sure where she’s going with this. “Um. Yeah.”
“I’ve had an idea for a present for Trey. But didn’t know how to exactly go about it because it’s Trey, and he’s sort of protective.” She leans in so only I can hear. “How would you like to do a boudoir photo shoot?”
“I’ve never actually done one. I don’t have a studio or anything.” I’m familiar with the style of photos, but I’ve only ever done weddings, family portraits, and graduations. Boudoir photos are intimate, sensual, and romantic. They’re empowering—why have I never done these before?
Rylee rests a hand on my forearm, excitement radiating from her pores. “We can do it at my house. We can set up in the basement. Or I have this antique chaise longue in the living room. Or the bedroom. I’ll make sure Trey and the kids are gone. I’ll provide the space if you can provide the skills. And of course, I’ll pay. Plus, I know Trey would be more comfortable if it was another woman versus a man taking the photos. I don’t need him roaming the city wanting to rip some guy’s head off.” Rylee chuckles and shrugs a shoulder.
Rylee’s eagerness is infectious. I’d love to get back into photography. I can easily do this. Even while pregnant. I’ll just need help to haul some of the heavier equipment. A spark of hope ignites inside my chest.
“Let’s do it.” This is my leap of faith. My fear of failure has always prevented me from resuming professional photography. But opportunities are fleeting, and I don’t want to miss out on any more.
Nora strolls into Porter’s for her shift and stops at the bar. “What are we doing?”
“Eve’s going to do a boudoir photoshoot for me.” Rylee beams.
“Yes! I call dibs for next!” Nora raises her hand in the air. “I’ve always wanted to do one of those for myself. Then I can hang the photo over my bed.”
Rylee claps her hands together. “I bet Dessa, Olivia, Charlie, Parisa, Hollyn, and Tatum would all book sessions with you. We could fill your calendar for the next three months.”
My head spins with this idea, but the warmth that fills my body tells me this is exactly what I should be doing. I’m buzzing with anticipation of getting started. Tears prick my eyes. I’m doing this. I wipe them away. Both Rylee and Nora’s gazes shoot to mine. Concern etches on their faces.
“Sorry,” I sniffle. “Happy tears. I blame it on the pregnancy. I think I’ve cried more in the past three months than I have in my entire life.”
Rylee laughs. “Oh, the uncontrollable hormones. I don’t miss those.” She wraps her arms around me in a hug.
Before my shift is over, Rylee and I figure out a date that will work best for the photoshoot.
When I arrive home, Lach is sitting on the couch drawing on his iPad. As I close the door behind me, he looks up and sets the iPad on the coffee table. He rises to his feet and greets me at the door with a chaste kiss.
I bite my lips together, eager to share my news with him. “So you’ll never guess what happened today.”
“What’s that?”
He grabs my purse from me and follows me into the kitchen. He sets it on the kitchen island, and I drop a stack of mail in my hand next to it. “I’m going to do a boudoir photoshoot for Rylee.” I flash him a wide grin.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a photography style that’s more sexy and romantic with lingerie. She wants to give the photos to Trey as a gift.”
He frowns, holding up his palm. “I don’t need to hear any more about my friends in lingerie.” He drops his hand and wraps it around my waist. “More importantly, you’re going to get back into photography?”
“Yeah. I’m going to start small and see where it goes first. But I’m ready to start again.”
He grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Whatever you do, I support you all the way.”
I melt against him. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Sunflower.”
Lach releases me and moves to sit on a stool. While sorting through the mail, a letter from the clinic catches my attention. Everyday since my trip to the clinic with Pax, I’ve been anxiously waiting for the results to arrive. Even though I know he’s the father, this will provide legal documentation. I flip it over and run my finger under the flap, breaking the seal. I pull out the piece of paper and unfold it. Quickly, I scan all the words.
“What’s that?” Lach nods at the paper in my hand.
“It confirms what I already knew. Pax is the dad.” I tuck the letter back in the envelope and push it to the side. I stare at the next letter, and my brows furrow. Holding it up, I ask, “Who’s Archibald Murray?” I peer up at Lach. He’s silent. “Wait. Is that you? Is your first name Archibald?”
His cheeks flush. “Yeah. Clearly, I never use it.”
“I could call you Archie!”
“Or not.” He laughs.
Lach’s real name is Archibald. I never knew this. Why didn’t I know this? What do I actually know about Lach or Archibald? A tear rolls down my cheek. My shoulders shake, and I slap a hand over my mouth.
In an instant, Lach jumps from the stool and is at my side. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know anything about you besides your penis size, which I like, but I know nothing else.” My sobs grow louder.
He laughs. “I’m glad it’s to your satisfaction, but you know more than that. Plus, we’re still getting to know each other. Our relationship is a little different from most, but it’s ours.”
I sniffle. “Rylee said the hormones would get to me. But it’s getting to be a lot.” I dry my damp cheeks. “Yesterday, I cried over a cat video because the cat tried to jump from the bed to the windowsill, and he didn’t make it. And I just felt so sad for the cat because he couldn’t jump. Then there was a video of a dog trying to get a bone from the bottom of his water bowl but couldn’t because it wasn’t a real bone. It was printed. All the dog wanted was his bone.” My eyes open like faucets, and the tears flood down my face.
Lach wraps his arms around me and tugs me to his chest. “It’s okay.”
“And I didn’t even know your first name.” Another sob racks through me.
His hand slides over my head and down my hair. “It’s not something I announce to the world.”
“But these are things I should know. It’s like we don’t even know each other.”
“Hey, look at me.” I peer up at him through wet lashes. “You know a lot about me. You know my favorite breakfast food is pancakes. You’re the only one who knows I enjoy reading romance books, mostly because I do it with you, and you know I love you more than anything. We have a lifetime to get to know each other.”
I nod. I know he’s right.
His lips press into a thin line, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “You asked me about the significance of my tattoos, and I told you I drew them, which is still true, but it’s deeper than that. The most significant one is the gears that run along my spine.”