21. Charlie
“There they are! The mama and daddy to be!”
“See?” Simon says, gesturing to Mellie as we walk into the kitchen of the diner. “She calls me daddy.”
“Quit saying daddy,” I snap as I plop down on the stool I now keep permanently in the kitchen. It’s easier than going to get it every time I feel nauseous or tired. Which is ninety percent of the time. “The word gives me the ick, and enough things are giving me the actual ick that make me throw up, so can we limit the use of the word daddy? And I swear, Mellie, if you say that even one of your cakes is moist, you’re fired.”
She firmly nods. “Got it, boss.”
“Don’t let her get to you,” Simon says as he puts down the loads of takeout he insisted on picking up from The Joint, the neighborhood bar and grill. “Today has been a rough day. Which is why I’m making it better with lunch for not only my beautiful Bug, but for everyone. A well- fed crew is a productive crew.”
“You bought lunch for everyone?” Mellie asks.
He smiles proudly, which makes my annoyed demeanor crack just a little. “He did. Which was very nice. Except he insisted on ordering in person and making us wait for it instead of calling ahead like a normal person.”
“Well, I think it’s all very sweet,” Mellie says as she brings her own stool over to the counter as I start to unload the takeout boxes.
“It’s just who I am,” Simon says, picking up a few of the bags. “You two dig in. I’ll take these to the guys.”
Simon gives me a kiss on the temple before taking lunch to the men working on my dining room—the ones he hired to come and finish painting because he nearly had a heart attack when he realized I’d been breathing paint fumes.
“Okay, I’m sorry, but he’s adorable,” Mellie says as she digs into the fresh-cut fries.
“My stomach, nor my mood swings, can handle your brand of chipper today.”
She laughs as she flicks a fry at me. “Oh, come on. Even in your grumpy state you have to admit that the man is really freaking cute. And doting. And protective. And hot. Basically the best baby daddy ever.”
I shoot her a glare.
“Oops. Sorry.”
I sigh as I dunk a chicken tender into my honey mustard. “I’m sorry. He’s been great. And I’m not ungrateful. I’m just extra irritable today.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry,” she says. “Has the morning sickness died down?”
“Nope. And whoever named it morning sickness needs to be shot. Because it’s most-of-the-day sickness.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell me about your appointment. How did it go?”
I feel the smile creeping on my face as I take a big bite of the chicken finger. Damn this is good. Mark this on the safe list of foods. “Well, in case we didn’t know, I’m pregnant. Nine weeks along. The baby is the size of a grape. And I’m pretty sure my doctor hates us because of the roughly six hundred questions Simon asked.”
Mellie laughs as she hands me the ginger ale she knows I’m going to need since I mainline the stuff most days. “That’s fantastic.”
“Embarrassing. The word you were looking for is embarrassing.”
“It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“He asked how much sex we could have.”
“Oh…Wait, are you two having sex?”
“We’re not. He’s hopeful.”
“He told the doctor that?”
“Those were his exact words.”
Mellie starts cracking up as my cheeks heat in secondhand embarrassment all over again. The questions started minor, like how much sleep should I be getting and what was on the banned list of foods. They morphed into him wondering if he needed to be measuring my stomach for progress and if we were to have sex, were any positions banned.
I didn’t have find a new doctor on my to do list today, but that’s obviously happening because I can never show my face there again.
“Okay, so he’s a little eager,” Mellie says. “But that’s better than the alternative.”
“What’s the alternative? Because I’d like that as an option.”
“That he not be here at all.”
Well, shit. Leave it to Little Miss Sunshine to bring down the mood.
“You’re right,” I say, throwing down my french fry. “He’s here. And very present. Sometimes too much, but you’re right. It’s better than him not being here at all. Especially in this insane week.”
“Exactly,” she says. “And hey, give yourself some grace. You found out you’re pregnant on the week of your dream coming true. It’s okay to be all over the place.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I just feel like everything is out of control. Like we aren’t ready. I’m not ready. This has to go perfectly, and I just feel like it’s going to be a disaster because I’ve been distracted.”
She shakes her head. “We’re ready. The staff is hired and coming in tomorrow for training, which they barely need since most of them worked for Mona. Menus were delivered yesterday. Painting is set to be done today. The first wave of food gets here tomorrow morning. All of the plates, glasses, mugs, and cutlery came in today. We are ready for the soft opening, my friend.”
“How did this all happen?” I ask myself, though I say it out loud. “I don’t feel like I’ve done any of that, yet somehow it’s done.”
“You did. But you had some help.” Mellie jumps off her stool and comes around to give me a side hug. “Get used to it, girl. You have a team here who wants to see you succeed. And we’re going to make sure this place is nothing but the best.”
Emotion runs through me as Mellie walks back toward the office. She’s right. I’ve had help, whether I wanted it, or thought I needed it. She’s driven in from Nashville each day to help oversee things while I was running around like a mad woman, doing things like opening bank and vendor accounts. Emmett came in with the health inspector to make sure everything was up to code and in proper order. Mona even reached out to the suppliers for me, including a mushroom guy she uses that she says is stoned most of the time but has good product.
Works for me.
And then there’s Simon. The father of my child has been in overdrive to make sure he’s taking things off my plate where he can. Also known as what he can throw money at to fix for me. I objected at first—I hate taking charity in any form, but especially monetarily—before I quickly realized it was an act of futility. The man is more stubborn than I am, which is saying a lot.
It’s also how he shows he cares. I never understood gift giving as a love language, but I’m starting to. Because that’s Simon Banks to his core.
He’s also really sexy when he takes charge. A feeling I’m allowed to feel since we’re now…together? I don’t know exactly what we are. But I do know that what we are includes things like small kisses and touches. And me ogling him from across the room.
I look around the kitchen, making mental notes of the things I can do to get ready for the food delivery tomorrow, before going to check on the painters’ progress in the dining room. I’ve been so busy the last few days I don’t even know the last time I’ve stepped foot out here.
And when I walk out, I have no idea what I’m looking at.
Because this isn’t my restaurant.
No, it’s better.
Fresh white walls. Not a drop of yellow anywhere. Pops of fun art perfectly placed on the walls in a way I could have never thought to do.
Then there are the brand-new booths and tables. I wanted to reupholster them, but I ran out of time and knew it wasn’t the best way to spend my money. But these? They’re perfect. Shiny silver tables and chairs that are modern, but not snobby. Booths in the perfect shade of blue I always imagined.
It’s perfect.
If that didn’t send me over the emotional cliff, I turn to the breakfast bar. That’s when the waterworks hit. White and gray shiplap line the front of the counter, which you can see even with the brand-new stools neatly lining the row. New white exposed shelves are behind it, and the dishes I ordered are stacked in a decorative, yet functional, way.
“Oh my…”
“Aw, Bug! You ruined the surprise!”
I turn to Simon, who is coming in from the front door as I watch a literal moving truck drive away. “What is all this?”
“This, my Bug, is your new restaurant. Surprise!”
I’m suddenly lightheaded and go take a seat at the counter, but for the first time in a while, I don’t think it’s because of the baby.
“What do you think?”
“It’s perfect…” I continue to look around in awe. I couldn’t have imagined this looking any better than it does. “How? When? How did you know exactly what I wanted?”
Simon smiles and takes my hands in his. “Mellie was a big help with that, though we still guessed in a few areas. Getting guys to paint was easy. Even finding a decorator was easy.”
“You’re telling me you know a decorator?”
“I do.” His smile is a little nervous, and I don’t know if he’s nervous to tell me something or worried how I’ll react. “You remember my sister Maeve?”
It was the latter.
“The sister I thought fucked you?”
“That’s the one. She’s an interior designer. She can’t wait to meet you, by the way.”
How many times in a day can one be embarrassed?
“Anyway,” he continues. “The painting and the decorating were easy. But the booths and the tables, those were a bit harder. I looked into fixing and patching what was at O.G. Mona’s—that’s what I’ve decided to call old Mona’s—but when Mellie described what you had always pictured, and the colors you wanted weren’t what O.G. Mona’s had, I figured it was just easier to get you new stuff. So I made a few calls.”
“Simon! This had to cost a fortune.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“I absolutely will,” I say looking around trying to do mental math of how much he had to have spent to get this done in two days. “It’s one thing to hire painters. I could come to terms with that. But Simon, these are really nice! I can’t afford these.”
“But I can.” He pulls me in, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Plus, I’ve never got to say I overnighted an entire restaurant from New York. I feel like I can add that to my resume. And now I have a table and booth guy. This was just as much for me as for you, Bug.”
I want to laugh, but I’m also very confused.
“You have a résumé? Wait. What do you even do? Oh my God, I’m having a baby with a man who has a shit-ton of money, and for all I know he’s in the mob. Is that how you knew guys in New York? And why do you always have guys for things? That’s what mob guys say.”
He laughs, and instead of immediately answering me, he kisses my nose for longer than I think is necessary. “I’m in real estate.”
“Oh. Well, that makes sense, how you would know painters and people who could help.”
“Exactly. Anyway, I wanted to surprise you.”
“Wait! Is this why you stalled today and refused to call in the takeout order?”
“Guilty as charged.”
I slap his chest, though he makes sure to catch and hold my hand to his heart. “Bug, this is your dream. Which means that it’s now my dream. And this is where our child is going to grow up. She?—”
“Or he.”
“Fine. Baby Bug is going to grow up in these booths. Have a permanent high chair. Pictures of our kid are going to go up on these walls. Depending on the time of day and who is here, they will probably watch it for a few minutes because the people in this town have no boundaries. This is where it could maybe take its first steps. If you don’t think I’m going to do everything in my power and means to make this place absolutely perfect for you and my baby? Well then, Bug, you don’t know me at all.”
I can’t let him speak anymore. If he does, I’ll cry. And I’m tired of crying. So I pull him in for a kiss that I hope says everything I want to say when I can’t form the words.
He answers my kiss, cupping my face as I pull him in by his shirt.
This man…how did he do it? And not just the restaurant. For the second time in our lives, he makes me change everything I think about him for the better. One second I hate him. The next I only kind of do. Then I was pretty sure he hated me. Snap to now, and we’re having a baby together and he’s actively making my dreams come true.
What did I do to deserve this? Do I deserve this? He should have never talked to me again, considering everything. But not only did he forgive me, he’s giving us the chance we never had.
And so am I. Because I’ve had a life without Simon. It was just okay. But Simon Banks in my life? Well, there’s nothing quite like it.
“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember when you said you’d do anything you could for me?”
“Of course.” I giggle as his mouth continues to nibble on my neck.
“How about we go upstairs?”
He quickly stops kissing me. “Why? Are you sick? Feeling okay? Do you need to lay down?”
I stand up as sexy as I can, considering I feel like a bloated blob. I take his hand and pull him with me, leading him toward the stairs to my apartment. “I do need to lay down. With you on top of me.”