Page 72 of Love Is Ale You Need

I laugh. “And I’m sure Ledger croons all the sweet love messages to you.”

“He does in his own Ledger way.” She runs a hand down his chest.

“I know what my girl wants and exactly how to give it to her.” Ledger pulls her in closer and presses a kiss to her temple.

“Also, don’t hate me,” Olivia says. “I told Rylee we kissed.” She quickly continues, “I told her it was one time. And it was like kissing my brother. No spark.”

I cough a laugh. “Did you tell her you then kissed my brother?”

She nods with a beaming smile. “Yep.”

“Good.” I return her smile with one of my own.

“Never in my wildest dreams did I think you would be having a kid,” Olivia says.

“Neither did I, but here we are, doing the things.” I lean against the chair and stare at the ceiling. It still hasn’t fully hit me. I don’t know when it will, but I’ll be prepared.

TWENTY-FIVE

HOW BABIES ARE MADE

Rylee

Tonight’s the night. Tonight, we are doing it. Trey’s coming over and we’re telling Abby she’s going to be a big sister. I’m just as nervous as when I told Trey. It’s been Abby and me against the world for the past four years. Six years if I count the years her father and I were still together, but he was basically absent. Unease settles in my stomach. What if she hates the idea and never wants to speak to me again? She’s my entire world.

I tap my fingers on the bar top before checking the time on my phone. Chad’s late. Again. I’ll have to talk to Jake about this because it’s getting ridiculous. Plus, every night he’s working, the inventory counts are skewed. Sometimes things are misplaced, but other’s they just disappear. I hate to point fingers, but it’s a little suspicious.

The door to Porter’s swings open and Chad strolls in like he isn’t twenty minutes late. “You know, when you’re late, you screw up everyone else’s schedule.”

Without sparing me a glance, he struts on by. “Not my problem.”

“It will be when you get fired,” I mumble to myself. I grab my wallet off the bar and tuck my phone in my back pocket, but before I’m through the door it opens, and I’m greeted by another pain in my ass.

“What do you want, Kyle?” I frown, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What the fuck, Rylee? I have to find out about this shit on the street?” he sneers.

“What are you talking about?” I sigh, dropping my arms. It’s always something. It’s always me who’s done something to ruin his life.

“Do you know who you’re spending time with? He’s slept with half the city and the other half is male, if you can do the math. I had to hear all about it on the golf course. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t pop out of their sockets and roll right past Kyle. I want to ask him if he realizes how embarrassing it is to catch your husband cheating on you not once, but twice. But I’m tired of the same argument, especially when he believes he did nothing wrong. “I know exactly who Trey is. Why do you think you have any say about who I spend my time with. That ship sailed years ago.” I fling my arms across my body. “You walked out. You left.”

“So, what you’re saying is if I stayed, we might still be together.” He takes a step closer.

“Hell no.” I hold out my palm, preventing him from getting any closer. “After you left, I just finished the job.” He flinches for a brief second. A rainbow of emotions float over his face, remorse being the shortest lived one. Honestly, I don’t think he has any remorse for his actions. For what he did to me and our daughter. If anything, he only regrets that he got caught.

He shakes his head as if he’s disappointed. “Out of all the people in this city, you find the biggest creep of them all.”

“No. That’s you,” I spit.

The half a dozen or so people in the bar turn their heads our way. Our conversation turning more into the headline news of a tabloid magazine.

His lip curls. “You realize while he’s spending time with you, he’s also spending time with my daughter.”

“In the short time we’ve been spending time together, he’s been more of a father figure than you have.”

His nostrils flare. Perhaps I hit a nerve. Too bad it’s not like the Vulcan nerve pinch, so I can be done with this conversation.

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