Page 7 of Bar Down Baby!
I knew I’d never move to New York. I had to go home and face the music, and if only I knew just how loud that music would be.
But when I leaned in and kissed him and he kissed me back, I took what I could. I certainly couldn’t take forever, but I could take one night and that would be enough.
CHAPTER 3
DOES THIS MUG MAKE ME LOOK PREGNANT?
I barely heard the tinny bell above the door when Barry and I entered the diner, our cheeks bright pink from walking the short distance from the practice facility to the restaurant a couple of blocks away. Barry insisted on driving us, but I insisted on walking and made him promise no questions until we got there. It was a frigid, quiet walk.
“Morning, Hannah,” Josie said without even turning around from the coffee machine on the back counter.
Barry looked like he thought heoughtto look concerned.
“How’d you know it was me?” I asked.
“Didn’t,” she said. “I called the last three people Hannah, too, just hoping.” When she finally did turn around, she did a double take, seeing me standing stiffly next to Barry. “Are you…Barry Wright?”
“I am.” He gave a soft smile. “Just got traded.”
“I saw that. Welcome. Play good, yeah?” Josie said, almost like a warning. I, for one, was astonished that she knew who he was. How many people watched Columbus hockey?
“Will do. Good to meet you.”
Josie’s brows ducked over her eyes, looking between us. She held up two fingers and I nodded.
“Sit wherever you like.” Josie offered Barry a smile.
I led Barry to the farthest booth, my favorite one. The sun always hit it first and it was so warm through the window. I’d been coming here a couple times a week since I started cleaning the practice facility, but even more frequently since I found out Iwas pregnant. The food was cheap and hot and delicious, plus Josie was a friend from college, and her cousin Marcus in the back was too. Josie’s mom owned the diner, inherited from her grandma, and maybe it was working for beloved family businesses that bonded us initially.
Marcus asked me on a date a few months before, but kindly rescinded the invitation when I told him I was with child. It was for the best.
Barry settled across from me in the booth, his knees just bumping mine under the table. I forgot how long his legs were, just ridiculously so, this tower of a man. I was tall enough, the second tallest in my family after Kate, who could moonlight as a model if she wanted, but Barry was the tallest person I’d ever met.
How tall was the baby going to be? Would she come out tall? Is that how extraordinarily tall people start? Tall from birth?
“How tall are you?” I asked.
“Uh, six-five.”
“Hm.”
“So—”
“No questions until we order,” I said. “Please?”
“Sure,” Barry agreed and looked down at the plastic menu in front of him. It was Barry’s first day practicing with the team, and he said he’d decided to get there early to get a lay of the land and work out a bit. Surely wasn’t in his plan to end up in a shoebox of a place downtown, but he said he had an hour before he had to be back.
Hanging from the ceiling were a bunch of little paper turkey decorations strung up with fishing line, which had recently been switched from pumpkins and would soon switch to Christmas trees. The mugs here were all mismatched, collected and picked up from local estate sales and Goodwills over the years. Josie usually brought me the “Don’t Talk To Me Until I’ve Had THIS” mug, or the neon green “Ask if this is decaf & I’ll cut you” one.
I thought of the last breakfast Barry and I shared, huddledover eggs at a little table in his brother’s New York apartment before I had to rush back to my hotel and check out. The AC wasn’t great, so the windows were open and two standing fans rotated across the space, flitting morning air across our skin. Barry hummed while he cooked, and I said something along the lines ofwhat the hell do you need to have muscles like this for? He’d tipped his head back and laughed.
Hockey. Professional hockey. God, why hadn’t I thought to ask him if he was an athlete? He’d told me he played hockey, but I thought he just meant it was the thing he did as a kid that wasn’t school. The concept hadn’t occurred to me that he’d made acareerout of it.
“Same as usual?” Josie asked. Barry and I both cleared our throats, very casual. I hadn’t realized she’d walked over to the table or exactly how long she’d been standing there before speaking.
“Yeah,” I said, and scooted the mug of coffee she poured closer to me. This one was new, pale pink with “Does this mug make me look pregnant?” on one side and someone’s 2015 due date on the other. I turned the mug so he couldn’t see the front. Barry’s looked to be one of the only plain white mugs in the establishment.
Josie turned to Barry, “What would you like?”
