Chapter 18
Summer
It would be so much easier if the smell of everything didn’t send me running to the bathroom.
Garlic. Cinnamon. Even apples. Everything makes me want to heave.
It’s easier at home because I can walk outside or into another room to get relief.
There’s no escape at the diner and tonight is worse than usual.
I’ve only been here since four—I was running behind on my baking because I’ve upped my production by about twenty-five percent and it takes longer since I can’t get going until noon—and I’m miserable.
“Summer, honey,” Dolly comes around the corner with a tray full of drinks. “Table seven says they’re still waiting on soup.”
“Yeah, I’m getting it.” I fill two bowls with minestrone, something that actually smells good to me for once, and hurry in that direction.
I give them their soup, take the order from two guys at the next table, and then head to the back again.
Sometimes I get a burst of energy at work.
Other times, I just want to take a nap. Today is a nap day.
I know it’s because I’m not sleeping well but the minute I lie down at night, my brain goes into overdrive.
Dolly and I have loosely come up with a plan.
Increasing my pie baking business by twenty-five percent now, and potentially by fifty percent in six months.
I’ll be later in my pregnancy then, so slowing down with waiting tables, and I’ll need that money.
If I’m lucky, the morning sickness will pass by the second trimester, and I’ll have more energy to bake more.
There are two other restaurants in town that expressed interest in buying pies from me, and one bakery wants me to provide all their pumpkin pies in November and December because they don’t have the time.
Dolly also suggested putting up flyers around town, maybe taking out a small ad in the local newspaper and posting on social media, advertising my availability to bake pies for individual customers for the holidays.
Just from word of mouth I’ve been able to get a few more customers, so even though it means working more on my days off, I’m bringing in more money, which is all I care about short-term.
In a perfect world, I’d be able to support myself with my pies once the baby comes, but my life is rarely perfect.
“Summer.” Dolly’s voice is low, cautious.
I look up warily. “What did I forget?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She hesitates. “He’s here.”
“Who’s here?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Tate.”
“I…what?” I blink, not quite understanding.
“He just walked in and sat at the counter. Asked if you were here.”
“Tate is here? You’re sure?” I’m so shocked I’m having a hard time believing her.
“Of course, I’m sure!” She rolls her eyes. “Go on and take a break. I can handle the dining room.”
“I’m not taking a break!” I grunt. “He can wait. God knows, he’s made me wait two weeks without so much as a text!”
I huff into the dining room but my step falters when I see him.
He’s sitting at the counter looking…gorgeous. Tired. Anxious. But as handsome as ever. Memories of our time together flood my brain. And my insides melt a little. Just for a second. Before reality sets in and I think about how awful he was when I told him I was pregnant.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, hoping I sound as angry as I feel.
“We have to talk.” He meets my gaze and I’d swear his is filled with regret.
“You think?” I scowl. “Well, we can’t do it here.”
“I’ll wait for you to finish work,” he says quietly. “Can you get me a burger, please?”
“Cheese?” I ask automatically.
“Everything. Cheese, bacon, the works.”
“Got it.” I turn on my heel and practically fly into the back, running right into Brent.
“If he makes you cry again, I won’t think twice about taking him out back,” he says somberly.
I can’t help but smile.
Brent is as big as a house but as gentle as a lamb. I have no doubt he could put a hurting on Tate—he’s built like the side of a mountain—but that wouldn’t solve anything. It just warms my heart to know my friends have my back.
“He’s fine,” I say quietly. “We have to talk. Even though it’s going to be a difficult conversation.”
The gang here at the restaurant knows I’m pregnant simply because the first time a smell made me gag, I ran straight to the restroom.
It didn’t take long for Brent and Sylvie to guess, so it would have been ridiculous to deny it.
Luckily, they’ve been incredibly supportive, so it’s nice knowing I’m not alone.
Even though I feel alone most of the time.
“You should go home,” Dolly says around seven thirty.
Tate finished his dinner and ordered a slice of pie, but he finished that too and now he’s just drinking coffee and doing something on his phone.
We haven’t said more than ten words to each other in the two hours he’s been here, but I’m busy.
And hurt. And frustrated. And a million other emotions that I can’t spell out because I don’t want to start crying in front of the customers.
“Go home,” Dolly repeats firmly. “It’s slowed down. It’s Monday, and you’re not supposed to be working anyway. Go on.”
I want to protest but that will just delay the inevitable.
He’s here.
We have to talk.
We’re going to talk, whether I want to or not.
But I’m stronger now.
As Dolly predicted, I’ve finally started moving past the shock and have reached the acceptance stage. I’m still not happy about it but I’m actively preparing for life as a single mom. If Tate wants to help support his child, that will be a bonus, but I’m not expecting anything.
“I’m ready to go,” I say abruptly after I’ve gotten my things.
“Okay. Should I follow you home? I have a rental car.”
“I guess.” I shrug and walk toward the parking lot with him on my heels.
“Summer.” He reaches for my arm once we’re outside. “Hey.”
I stop and turn. “What?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“You do.” I stand there, hoping he doesn’t see how exhausted I am. How scared. How much he hurt me with his behavior. Like I got pregnant on purpose or something.
“I reacted badly. I’m really sorry.” He reaches out and runs his knuckles across my cheek. “But I’m here now. I want to make it up to you, talk about what to do going forward. You’re not alone, Summer.”
A torrent of emotion floods me and tears fill my eyes.
Dolly and Brent and Sylvie already made sure I knew I wasn’t alone, but hearing it from him is different. It’s important. Because he’s my baby’s father and even though I’m prepared to be a single mom, I don’t want to be one.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispers when one errant tear slides down my face.
If I say anything at all the flood gates will open, so I just stand there, blinking and trying to retain some semblance of my composure.
“Baby, please don’t cry.” His voice is so soft, tender, just like when we were together, no hint of the asshole on the phone who shattered my heart into a million pieces.
Which makes me burst into tears.
He pulls me to his chest, holding me tight, stroking my hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers over and over. “I was such a jerk, please forgive me.”
All I can do is bury my face in his chest and let out everything I’ve been holding in for the last two weeks. Hurt and fear and betrayal and sadness all comes pouring out, soaking his shirt as I sob.
“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry.” He’s holding me tight and I swear his voice breaks a little. “But it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something out.”
When I finally lift my head, my nose is stuffy and my eyes feel swollen.
“Come on, let me drive you home,” he says softly, eyes never leaving mine. “We can come back for my rental in the morning. Give me your keys.”
Without thinking, I hand them to him and let him lead me to my Mustang, open the passenger side door for me, and then watch as he runs over to his rental car and pulls out a small rolling suitcase.
He tosses it in the back seat of my car and then gets behind the wheel.
It’s a little surreal having him here. I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again, and I certainly didn’t envision him coming to see me in person.
Maybe when the baby was born, but not now.
“How did you get away?” I ask softly.
“We’re off today and tomorrow, and then we’re playing Roanoke on Wednesday so I’m flying out late morning.”
“Okay.” I’m still a little shaken, confused, and suddenly really tired. “Do you remember how to get to my house?”
“I do.”
To my surprise, he reaches over and squeezes my hand.
I don’t know what to say, so we drive the rest of the way in silence. My eyes close and for the first time since this nightmare started, a little bit of tension starts to drain. Like I can breathe again. He may not want to be with me, but if he’s going to support us, everything will be okay.
At least, that’s the hope I’m hanging onto unless and until he tells me something different.