Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Harmony Glen, New York
CATE
“Hey, Cate—oh, you look super busy. I’ll come back another time.”
“No, please come in.” I motion Hope into my office. “Save me from this never-ending bookkeeping. My least favorite part of owning a bar,” I say, closing the laptop.
“Have you considered hiring someone to do that part? It’d free up time for you to do something other than work.
” She makes her way into the small room and settles into the chair on the opposite side of my desk.
“In all the time I’ve been in Harmony Glen, I’ve never seen you out and about, enjoying life.
You’re always working. Behind the bar when it’s open, and in your office when the bar is closed. ”
“Owning and working in The Corner Bar is how I enjoy life.”
“Oh, I know. It’s your heart and soul and personal touch that make this place so much more than just a bar. But you could have this and a personal life.”
“Yes, I could.” I smile, then tent my fingers together on the desk.
“So, what brings you by today?” I’ve adored Hope since the day she came into the bar as a tourist and customer, saw that I was shorthanded and struggling to keep up with orders, and offered to step in and serve drinks.
But my personal life, or lack thereof, is off-limits, even with my favorite well-meaning sweetheart.
“Sorry if I overstepped.”
“Don’t give it another thought.” Waving my hand as if it’s no big deal, I try to keep my attention on her face, but it’s difficult not to look at her hands caressing her very large baby bump.
Having a baby was on my maybe someday list when I was younger.
I always assumed it was a decision, that I could start a family whenever I wanted. Until I found out I couldn’t.
“I was wondering if it’d be possible to have a private party here the night before the wedding.
Not in the main bar area, obviously,” she adds quickly.
“We’d like to rent the small, upstairs room if it’s not already booked for someone else.
And only if you’ll be able to take the night off from working so you can be at the party as a guest.”
Opening my laptop to check schedules is strictly for show.
Pulling someone in to work behind the bar downstairs won’t be a problem.
And the upstairs room isn’t booked. I know it, and so does Hope.
In the six months she worked for me, the upstairs room was never used. Never advertised. Never mentioned.
People who know I live above The Corner Bar probably assume my living space takes the entire second floor, but my apartment is just a smidge over half. A cozy and simple one-bedroom is all I’ve ever needed.
Hope only knows about the small, upstairs bar room because she found me up there on another of her many unexpected drop-in visits.
Fortunately, I was just sitting quietly on a barstool, staring at the small, empty platform.
Not crying, as I still do sometimes, even though it’s been years since the goodbye conversation that broke my heart.
The day she found me up there, I told Hope I was mulling over utilizing the space.
I’ve been a bartender nearly all my adult life, so selling a story convincingly is easy.
Plus, it wasn’t a straight-up lie. Once upon a time, I did contemplate expanding my business to include that room.
The perfect space for private, intimate performances—the kind a nonhuman musician might give for open-minded, trustworthy locals who were aware of “others” before the rest of the world had an inkling of monsters living on the fringes of our communities.
Then everything changed.
“Cate?”
Hearing my name snaps me out of my internal spiral.
“Sorry about that.” An apology, I’ll give.
Not an explanation. “Yes, you’re more than welcome to use the upstairs room for your party.
I’ll need an approximate number of guests so that I can pull in extra staff for the bar. Will you want floor service also?”
“Floor service won’t be necessary, and I’ll text you later today with the number of guests.”
“Sounds good. Open bar, or will your guests be purchasing their drinks?”
“Open bar. And if the guests don’t order enough to make it worthwhile, you can charge us the average amount per person for this sort of thing.”
“I won’t be charging you anything, my dear. I’m covering all the expenses and you can consider it a wedding gift.”
“Cate, that’s too much.”
Again, I wave a hand at her. “It’s my pleasure, truly. Watching you and Ogram find happiness together and fully embrace your mate bond has been a wonderful treat for my heart.”
Despite her pumpkin-sized baby bump, Hope practically springs from the chair.
She’s at my side of the desk and leaning down to hug me before I’ve closed the laptop.
“Thank you. Not just for this amazing gift. For everything, starting with the wisdom you shared the first night we met. Your insight into trolls and mate bonds meant so much to me, and I’ll always be grateful because it helped me trust that even though my feelings for Ogram happened fast, they were deep and real. ”
“You’re welcome.” The words come out a little rough as I swallow hard while returning her hug. Thank goodness she’s in no hurry to release me, because I’m fighting like hell to hold back tears.
“Can I tell you something?” she asks quietly. “Something personal that I’ve wanted to say for a long time, but I worried it might offend you.”
A snorted laugh pushes past the ball of emotions wedged in my throat. “Well, with a lead-in like that, how can I say no?”
Laughing softly, she eases out of the embrace.
“I’m so emotional about everything these days,” she says, swiping moisture from her rosy cheeks.
“The doctor says it’s possible my hormones are more heightened than regular human pregnancy levels because the baby has troll DNA, and everything about them is more intense. ”
“Makes sense to me.” Maintaining my smile takes effort, but I do it for her. It’s not her fault this subject is like salt in a wound. “I’m sure your doctor will take excellent care of you and your baby.”
Nodding, she tucks her long, dark hair behind her ears, then gently pats her cheeks while exhaling slowly. “You’re right, of course. As always.”
If only being right didn’t hurt so much sometimes. I push the old hurt aside and focus on my pure-hearted friend. “So, what personal thing that might offend me did you want to share?”
She takes my gentle teasing the friendly way I intended, another soft laugh seeming to clear away the weepiness. But only briefly. The tears flow again as soon as she speaks. “My parents suck.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Standing, I pull her into my arms, as much as that’s possible with her belly.
“I know, I know,” I say, gently stroking her hair and rocking her where we stand.
And I do know, because she came to me in tears the day her parents disowned her after learning she’d fallen in love with a monster. “What can I do?”
“Give me away at the wedding? Because if I could choose someone to be my mother, it’d be you.”
My heart feels as if doubles in size. Hugging her tighter, I close my eyes and let the tears come.
“And if I’d ever been blessed with a daughter, I would have loved for her to be just like you.
” I press a kiss to her temple, then ease backward enough to bring us eye to eye.
“Escorting you to your devoted mate would be my absolute honor.”
“Thank you,” she says, coming in for another quick hug before stepping back.
“I planned to walk down the aisle alone because that’s how I basically did everything in life before coming to Harmony Glen.
But yesterday, while I was having one of my hormone-fueled emotional moments, I realized that I haven’t had to do anything alone since I got here.
Everyone I’ve met hasn’t just helped, they’ve wanted to help.
Especially you. You’ve given me trust, insight, employment, flexibility, friendship, and more. ”
“Including love. I’m not great at saying it out loud, but you’ll always have it.”
“I love you too,” she says, fresh tears rolling down her face as she squeezes me again, burying her face against my shoulder like a daughter might do with her mother in a moment like this.
Instead of resisting, trying to hold myself together, I let all the feelings wash over me, and for a few minutes, we stand there, rocking and embracing, crying happy tears together.
“So, what part of that did you think might offend me?” I ask when she shifts backward to dab at her face with a tissue from the box on my desk.
Even with her blotchy-from-crying complexion, the blush rising to her cheeks is unmistakable. “I was afraid you might think I was calling you old when I said I would choose you as my mother. I know you’re not actually old enough for that.”
“No, not quite, but even if I were, I wouldn’t have taken your words as anything other than a beautiful, sincere compliment.”
“Okay, good,” she says, smiling.
“So, now that I’m stepping into the mother-of-the-bride role, give me a list of anything and everything I can do to help with the preparations for the big day and all of its related events.
” I snap my fingers and point at her. “Including a baby shower, since you haven’t had one yet—at least not that I’m aware of. ”
The curve of her lips shifts to a downward angle, and her ever-present glow dims. “I haven’t.” No additional words need to be spoken. She hasn’t had a baby shower because nobody has organized one.
As a close female friend, perhaps her closest, I should’ve offered.
Initially, Hope worried how the pregnancy would go, since a human woman carrying a troll’s child is essentially uncharted territory in the medical community, at least officially.
I used that as an excuse to remain silent.
But as the months progressed and her obstetrician seemed more confident in Hope’s ability to carry the rapidly growing fetus, I should’ve stepped up.
Instead, I waited for someone else to act as host, and hoped I’d have a valid way to opt out of attending.
I convinced myself that sending a great gift would be enough.
I put my emotional comfort ahead of her happiness. The opposite of being a good friend. Certainly the opposite of being a good mother figure.
“Do you have a few minutes for me to tell you a very personal story I’ve never shared with anyone?”
“Of course,” she says, taking my hand.
“I’m not sure I can make it through this if you start hugging me, which I’m pretty sure you would, so…
” I motion for her to sit, then take the chair behind my desk.
“Many years ago, I got pregnant unintentionally. My cycle had never been regular, and it hadn’t occurred to me that I might be.
I found out I was pregnant and that I’d miscarried in the same emergency room examination. ”
“Oh, Cate, I’m so sorry.”
I nod while gathering the rest of my words.
“I didn’t tell the baby’s father about it.
He wanted to travel, see the world, have grand adventures.
I didn’t want him to give up his dreams out of guilt or obligation or concern for me.
I told him I’d decided to stay here instead of going with him.
He knew I wasn’t being entirely honest with him, and I knew that he knew.
But he didn’t press me for the truth. I told him what he needed to hear—that I was fine. That he could go without me.”
“But you weren’t fine.”
“No, I wasn’t. Far from it. I was devasted.
I loved him. From the moment I met him. I thought that somehow, despite the challenges facing us, we’d be together for the rest of our lives.
” I swallow hard, attempting to clear the gravel from my throat.
“In the scan they did after the miscarriage, I learned I have a severely bicornuate uterus. In some cases, corrective surgery helps. In my case, they weren’t optimistic. ”
Tears roll down her cheeks as she pushes up from the chair, then resumes her seated position. “No hugs.”
“Thank you,” I say with what I’m sure is the thinnest smile ever. It’s all I can manage. “You’re the only person who knows, outside of the medical professionals with access to my files.”
“I won’t tell a soul. Not even Ogram.”
“I appreciate that,” I say, nodding. “Anyway, I’ve just in the past few minutes become acutely aware that this old wound is the root of my shitty non-effort with your baby shower.
I’m deeply sorry for that, and if you can forgive me, I’d like to make amends by throwing a kick-ass baby shower whenever you’re ready. ”
“You don’t have to do that, Cate.”
“I want to. Truly. For you, but also for me because if I’m your stand-in mother, then I’m also about to enter my World’s Best Nana era. If you’re okay with that.”
Laughing and crying, Hope reaches across the desk and squeezes my hands. “I’m so much more than okay with it.”
Just like that, the old pain aches less.
My friend chose me as her mother. In a few weeks or months—however long it takes Hope’s troll-human hybrid baby to decide he or she is ready to join the world—I’m going to be a grandmother.
I may have missed out on some things, but what I do have is beautiful.