Chapter 26
Wednesday…
The week has gone by quickly. Bianca called in sick this morning, which leaves me on waitress duty tonight.
Owen, Lee, and Graham come in for dinner. I approach their table. “Hey, guys. What would you like to drink?”
Graham: Weihenstephan Hefe Weissbier
Owen: Guinness Blonde American Lager
Lee: Einbecker Ur-Bock
I nod. “Hey, Owen, is Bianca feeling okay?”
He nods. “Yeah, I checked on her before I left. She told me to go out with the guys because I was hovering too much. She probably ate something that didn't agree with her.”
“I'll call and check on her later,” I say as I leave to get their beers.
As I return with the beers, I see Vanessa beside Graham. Owen looks ready to launch himself across the table. I don't know if I've ever seen him this serious, except perhaps when he took me surfing and more or less scolded me.
I set the beers on the table. She looks up, smirking. “The service here leaves a lot to be desired. I've been waiting forever, and nobody has taken my drink order.”
My teeth clench. “What can I get you?”
She lets out a huff and grins. “Thank God. I thought I'd die of thirst. I'll have a margarita. Actually, maybe I shouldn't. Tequila makes me frisky. Graham, remember that time we had tequila shots and we…”
Graham glares at her. “That's enough, Vanessa.”
My blood feels ready to boil. You know when you're so pissed off that you start thinking the consequences might be worth it? That's where I am right now.
At the bar, I make her margarita. I consider tampering with it, then decide to take the high road. I won't sink to her level.
I bring the margarita over. She takes a sip. “God, this is terrible!”
I look at her, my anger mounting. There's nothing wrong with that margarita. I choose to ignore her.
“What would you like to eat?”
I take their orders. Before I finish writing Lee's down, Vanessa's irritating nasal voice starts up again. It's like fucking nails on a chalkboard. I bow down to Graham for tolerating her shit for so long.
“Graham, we should have dinner Friday night. We've got a lot to talk about.” She pulls his arm into her lap.
He yanks his hand free and slams it on the table, startling both Vanessa and me. “That's enough, Vanessa. Yes, we can have dinner and talk. But that's all. Talk.” Vanessa smirks at me.
I go to the kitchen to turn in their orders. A tear slips down my cheek.
A song comes on: “Ground Up,” by Dan and Shay. It makes me think of Graham.
I return to the restaurant and start wiping tables.
As I listen to the lyrics, tears fill my eyes.
Grandma and grandpa painted a picture of sixty-five yearsAnd one little houseMore than a memoryMore than saying I doKiss you goodnight's and I love you's
A hand catches mine and draws me into the middle of the restaurant. I look up to find Graham. He places my hands around his shoulders, then holds my waist and sways with me.
Me and you baby, walk in the footstepsBuild our own familyOne day at a timeTen little toes, a painted pink roomOur beautiful baby looks just like you
I tighten my arms around him. He draws me closer until there's no space between us, and I rest my head against his chest. I can hear him singing along.
And we'll build this love from the ground upNow 'til forever it's all of me, all of youJust take my handAnd I'll be the man your dad hoped that I'd beAnd we'll build this love from the ground upFor worse or for betterAnd I will be all you needBeside you I'll stand through the good and the bad
We'll give all that we haveAnd we'll build this love from the ground up
He holds my gaze as he sings the final line, then kisses me passionately.
“I agreed to have dinner with her Friday, but I promise nothing will happen. I don't love her.” He searches my eyes for acceptance.
I rise to kiss him. “I know. Thank you for being honest with me.”
Thursday morning…
A knock wakes me early. I drag myself out of bed and put on a bra. Who the fuck is here at this hour?
I open the door to Bianca. She steps inside and pulls me toward the kitchen table. “What are you doing here so early?” I ask.
She hands me a pregnancy test. I look down, confused, then see the word pregnant. I drop it. “Did you fucking pee on that? And I touched it?” I yell.
She picks it up and puts it in a bag. “Really, Nora? It says I'm fucking pregnant, and you're worried about touching it?”
I gasp. “Oh God, Bianca. I'm sorry I reacted that way.”
I study her face and find no sign of happiness. “Why aren't you happy? Is something wrong between you and Owen?”
She starts to cry. “No, nothing like that. What if I'm a terrible mom? What if my kid grows up hating me? What if I can't protect them from this cruel world?” She sobs.
I hug her. “Bianca, you and Owen are going to be amazing parents. This child won't know what to do with all that love. You're so passionate and driven. There's no way you're going to be a bad mom.”
She hugs me back. “I haven't told Owen. What if he freaks out and leaves me? God, we aren't even married.”
I take her arms. “Stop that right now. Owen loves you.
He's head over heels for you. He might be shocked at first, but I know he'll be excited that you're having his baby.
And another thing: since when do you give a shit what other people think?
Who cares whether you're married? Your relationship is between you and Owen, not you, Owen, and everyone else.”
I squeal. “Oh my gosh, I'm going to be an aunt! Ah!”
She laughs and wipes her tears. “You're right. This is a good thing. I'm sorry. I just panicked about all the ways I could fail as a mother.”
I take her hands. “You won't. I promise. Besides, your mom is pretty kickass. I'm sure she'd kick your ass if you were a bad mom.”
“Has Owen left for work yet?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes.”
“Then have a date night tonight. Just spend some time together and surprise him with the news. And call me afterward.”
She stands, kisses my cheek, and heads home to get ready for the morning shift.
I collapse onto the couch. Fuck. I can't even imagine facing all those fears about motherhood.
I start wondering whether I'd be a good mother. After all, my one good role model died when I was little. I don't know if I even understand how to be a good parent. The one who raised me was terrible. With a sigh, I start getting ready for work.