Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Amka finished wiping down the bar, the scent of lemon cleaner mixing with lingering fryer grease and coffee.
The lunch rush had thinned to two fishermen arguing quietly over salmon prices and an older couple splitting a piece of pie at the far table.
The windows along the front wall were thrown open to let in fresh summer air.
Daisy was restocking napkin holders with her usual efficiency, humming under her breath.
The place felt settled now. Warm and lived-in.
Senator Mercer smiled from his place down the bar as he finished fish and chips, flanked by his two staffers. For some reason, she didn’t much like his smile. Yeah, she knew he used to date May, and if he’d lost her, there was something wrong with him. His chief of staff waved.
She moved toward him, noting his pressed blue polo shirt. “Yes, Peter?” The stately man had introduced himself the other day and kept looking at her. All day. But more with interest and nothing salacious.
Peter handed over his empty basket. He looked smooth and polished, and he’d been complimentary about the drinks earlier.
“I just wanted to say that your food is the best I’ve had in eons.
Your chef is absolutely amazing.” His eyes glimmered and then his gaze caught on her left hand.
“I was going to ask you out, but I see you’re engaged? ”
She glanced down. “Very much so.” Taking the basket, she made sure they all still had enough water. “I’ll let my chef know you appreciate his work.” Rudolph would be ticked to be called a chef and not the cook.
“Thank you. Your fiancé is a lucky man,” Peter said, ruffling a hand through his blondish-gray hair.
Right now her fiancé was wondering what the heck was going on with her head.
She needed to tell him the truth but hadn’t quite figured out how.
“Thanks.” She turned and walked into the kitchen to see Rudolph cleaning the back grill.
“The tourists love your food.” Heat rolled over her instantly, thick with garlic and grilled halibut.
Rudolph looked up, sweat on his wide forehead. He’d worked at the tavern for as long as anyone remembered, even before Amka bought it, and he liked things done his way. “Good.”
“Hey, have you had enough water today?” she asked.
“Stop nagging me, woman.” Rudolph was broad-chested, all muscle, and a good three hundred pounds. His black hair was gray at the temples but he moved like a much younger man. “I’m perfectly healthy.”
She had already double-checked that he’d taken his blood pressure pills before the lunch rush started. “I know you’re healthy, but the doctor said you need to hydrate better.”
Rudolph grabbed a towel and tossed it at her without turning.
She caught it easily. “Dork,” she said, backing out.
“You’re the dork,” he called as she pushed the door closed.
She turned back toward the bar—and stopped.
Christian sat across from her on the far stool, elbows resting on the polished wood like he’d always been there.
Her pulse skipped.
Where did he come from? How did he do that? The man moved like fog. She glanced toward the front door. No bell had rung.
“Hi,” she said, and hated how shy she sounded.
“Hi.” His mismatched eyes—one deep green, the other black—focused on her in that steady way that made everything else fall out of frame. He didn’t smile, but his expression was softer than usual. “How was the lunch rush?”
“It was good.” She moved behind the bar, wanting something to do with her hands, and began stacking the glasses. She had about fifteen minutes before she needed to meet May. “I’m having a late lunch with the doc.”
“Oh.” One eyebrow lifted. “I think she needs to speak with you.”
“Well, obviously.” Amka rolled her eyes lightly, but heat crept up her neck. “Believe me, I noticed she and Ace didn’t make it downtown last night. I assume they maybe got together?”
Christian lifted one shoulder. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Of course. He could be a brick wall when he wanted.
“You saw Ace today?” she asked.
“Yeah. I took him to the plane.”
Her stomach tightened. “Ooh. How’d that go?”
“He didn’t puke.”
She let out a breath. The breeze slipped through the open windows again, stirring the edge of a cocktail napkin near her hand. “Sometimes that’s a good marker.”
Christian watched her. “So,” he said evenly, “are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”
There it was.
Amka studied him. He’d come straight from somewhere outdoors. There was sawdust on his boots and a faint smear of dirt across his forearm. His shoulders looked heavier than usual, tension sitting there like it had claimed territory. “Yeah,” she said finally. “Why don’t we go into the back room?”
No expression crossed his rugged face. “All right.” He slid off the stool and walked around the bar without another word, one hand resting briefly at her lower back as he gestured her ahead of him. The contact was warm and steady.
She led him past the kitchen door into the back room she had carved out for the in-between moments.
A twin bed rested against one wall with a thick quilt folded neatly at the foot, and a soft lamp glowed in the corner beside a small table and two mismatched chairs.
The attached bathroom was tucked off to the side.
She had decorated the space in bold colors, draping woven blankets from her grandmother over the chair backs and pinning bright art along the walls, including two photographs captured by May.
One featured a sunset over the mountains, and the other a salmon swimming upstream.
Near the back door sat an enormous lost-and-found basket that was already half full with hats, scarves, a single boot, and a phone charger that was abandoned months ago.
She closed the door behind them. For a second, neither of them spoke. The air felt different in here. Her heart thudded harder than it should.
His presence overwhelmed the space like always. Christian Osprey had a way about him. The room felt smaller with him in it, warmer, like the air bent toward him.
Amka swallowed and then walked a few feet away to get some space between them before turning to face him. The woven rug muffled her steps. He watched her, steady and unreadable, but didn’t say anything.
“So,” she said.
“Are you tired of sleeping outside?” he asked suddenly.
She paused and tried to follow his line of thought. “Huh?”
“Are you tired of sleeping outside with me?”
“Oh no. I love sleeping outside.” She let out a short breath. “I really do.”
They had a ledge out back of his place that overlooked the trees and a slice of water beyond.
It was tucked under a rock outcropping so they were covered from rain and snow but still open to the night air.
He’d hauled a thick mattress out there last summer and built a low frame so it wouldn’t shift.
He was always doing things like that. Quiet things.
Thoughtful things. It was one of the reasons she loved him so fiercely.
“Have you changed your mind about the wedding?” he asked.
That stopped her cold. She straightened slowly. “No. Have you?”
“Of course not.” He leaned back against the door, big and broad. More than a little dangerous when he wanted to be. His boots were planted wide, like he wasn’t going anywhere. “But you’ve been off.”
“You noticed.”
“Yeah.” A tiny flicker of amusement touched his bottom lip. “I noticed.”
She let out a soft breath. “Okay.”
The bed in the corner looked too small all of a sudden. The lamp buzzed faintly. Outside the door, someone laughed in the bar, then the sound faded.
“Everything’s fine,” she said carefully. “I still want to get married. I love you more than anything.”
“All right.” He just waited, patient in that infuriating way he had.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t want this to change anything between us.”
His gaze sharpened. “Don’t want what to change anything between us?”
She swallowed. “You have to promise you’re still going to attend the AWT training.”
“Amka, what’s going on?” There it was. The shift in his voice.
Most people wouldn’t catch it. She did. He wasn’t angry or scared.
He was bracing. That didn’t mean anything dramatic was about to happen, but he had been known to kiss her into confessing whatever she was holding back, and right now she needed a clear head.
She drew in another breath and steadied herself. “I’m pregnant.”
For a full second, he didn’t move. Then he slowly, very slowly, tilted his head. “You’re what?”
She almost laughed. Had she ever seen Christian caught off guard? Ever? The man handled bar fights, snowstorms, and broken engines without blinking. “Pregnant,” she repeated, softer this time. “I have a baby in me.”
His jaw went slack.
“You put it there,” she added, because apparently her mouth had decided to keep going.
He just stared at her. Nothing ever fazed Christian. Nothing. And now he looked like someone had pulled the ground out from under him.
She felt a nervous bubble rise in her throat and forced herself not to laugh. This was not the moment. “Are you okay?” she asked finally.
He swallowed hard and blinked once, like he was coming back into his body.
“Yes. Yes.” He pushed off the door and crossed the space between them in two strides.
His hands came up and wrapped around her arms before he pulled her into him.
The contact was solid and warm and familiar.
“You’ll be okay,” he murmured onto the top of her head before pressing a kiss there.
She couldn’t help it. She laughed softly against him.
Leaning back enough to look up at him, she studied his face.
Shock was still there, but another expression was pushing through it.
Something wide and bright and almost boyish.
“Women get pregnant all the time,” she said slowly, like she was explaining basic biology. “It’s not rare.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She frowned. “I am. Are you? Did something just burst in your brain?”