Ava

Everyone knows that the best place to go for coffee in Jackson Harbor is also the best place to satisfy your sweet tooth. Ooh La La! is a coffee shop and confectionary just a block down from Jackson Brews, and also the place Ellie and I became best friends. Two years ago, after she and Colton started dating, she insisted we meet for coffee. At the time, I was in the early stages of my divorce, and I quickly discovered that I needed a girlfriend I could share my heartache with—it didn’t feel right dumping everything on Jake. It turned out Ellie was a great listener, and our friendship blossomed.

The offerings here are so delicious that I have to restrict my visits to once a week. Not only would daily gourmet coffee and a pastry blow my waistline, I simply don’t have room in my budget for such habits, but I figure I can make an exception for my birthday.

“Happy birthday,” Star calls from behind the counter. She owns this place and is responsible for the delicious offerings behind the glass. From handmade chocolates to melt-in-your-mouth croissants to the perfect cup of coffee, Star knows how to make the good stuff. “Did you have fun last night?”

I nod. “Maybe a little too much fun.” I rub my forehead. My headache’s mostly gone now, but the reminder that I overindulged still lingers in the background.

“Nothing a little caffeine and sugar can’t cure.” Star grins, tucking a lock of her curly red hair behind her ear.

Ellie walks up to the glass case and scans the contents. “What kind of cupcakes do you have today? My birthday girl needs a treat.”

Star puts her finger to her lips. “Not much up here but the double-chocolate fudge.”

Ellie gasps. “How dare you speak of anything double-chocolate as not much.”

“It’s not special enough,” Star says. “I’m working on samples for a bride who’s coming in tomorrow, so I might have some options back there. Lance, get their drinks while I’m gone. It’s on the house for Ava’s birthday.”

The lanky teenager nods glumly, as if she just informed him that our drinks were coming out of his paycheck. That’s Lance, though. I know him from my drama club, and he’s one of those kids who takes the Eeyore approach to life—always looking for the gray, cloudy lining to any situation.

“What do you want to drink?” Ellie asks. “I think we should get something really indulgent. Like something with full-fat milk and sugary syrup.”

“What do you recommend, Lance?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t like coffee.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “How about two of the turtle sundae lattes?”

Lance nods. “Happy birthday, Miss McKinley,” he says, then turns to make our drinks.

Ellie and I flash a grin at each other. Lance might not mean to, but he makes us giggle.

“Let’s sit over there,” Ellie says, pointing to a booth on the other side of the café.

I head in that direction but stop when I see Myla Quincy, one of the other English teachers from my school.

“Go on,” I tell Ellie. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Myla’s sitting in front of a stack of papers, a large, steaming cup of black coffee at her side. “Beautiful day for grading, huh?” I say, because grading is the plight of every English teacher’s life.

She looks up from the paper and blinks at me. Myla is the coach of our cheer team and is usually a walking cheerleader stereotype—peppy and full of energy. Today, she looks exhausted. “Gotta enjoy it while it lasts, am I right?”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just nervous ever since I heard about the layoffs this morning. I have this ache in my gut that won’t go away.”

“What layoffs?”

She bites her bottom lip and studies me. “Didn’t you hear? The Windsor Prep board voted on a new budget. They’re going to get rid of the middle school program and lay off a quarter of the faculty.”

Suddenly, I have no appetite for cupcakes and coffee. In fact, my stomach was in better shape with a fresh hangover than it is trying to digest this news. “Are you sure?”

“I guess the actual number is more rumor than official at this point, but the layoffs are coming.” She rubs her eyes, and I realize she doesn’t look tired. She looks like she’s been crying. “I’m a wreck. I just bought a house.”

I don’t blame her for being worried. She’s the newest teacher in the English department and teaches primarily the middle school students, meaning she’ll probably be the first to go. “I’m sorry, Myla.” I reach out and squeeze her wrist. “I know it’s hard, but try not to worry until we know more, okay?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she nods. “I know. Don’t borrow trouble, right?”

“Right. We don’t know what’s going to happen yet.” I try to smile, but I’m not feeling it, and I’m afraid my worry is obvious on my face.

“Thanks, Ava.” She takes a deep breath. “I’d better get back to this grading.”

“We’ll talk more on Monday,” I promise as I head to the booth to meet Ellie.

“What was that about?” Ellie asks as I slide in.

“Windsor Prep is going to do a big round of layoffs.” I rub my temples. “The middle school program never grew like they thought it would, and apparently the board voted to get rid of it.”

“Well, shit,” Ellie says. “And the cheerleader chick has her head on the chopping block?”

I draw in a ragged breath. “I don’t know. Maybe. I hope not.” Honestly, the only colleague I’d like to see go is my asshole principal.

“What about you? You teach in the high school part, so you’re okay, right?”

“Maybe. I don’t know how they’ll handle it.”

“I’m so sorry, Ava.”

I shake my head. “Don’t apologize. We don’t know anything yet.” But until the layoffs are done, I know my plans are postponed. Having a child on my own will be tough, but embarking on this mission without a steady job would be nothing short of careless. A weight settles onto me, crushing the joy I’ve been carrying since I decided to launch Operation Pregnancy.

Jake

By the time Saturday night rolls around, I’m kicking myself for agreeing to talk to Ava about her baby plans. There are a lot of conversations I’d prefer to never have. A conversation with Ava about having someone else’s baby tops the list—tied with a conversation with my mom about her sex life. In other words, if I didn’t think this was really fucking important, there’s no way I’d indulge in such emotional masochism.

I leave my apartment and take the stairs down to Jackson Brews. Ava’s scheduled to close tonight. Maybe this isn’t the best place to have such a delicate conversation, but I’m ready to rip off the Band-Aid. At least here we can talk over a beer instead of in the awkward silence of her house.

“Jake!” Ava spots me as I push out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

I shrug. “I live here.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re not on the schedule for tonight.”

“Nothing else to do.” That’s not true. I scheduled myself off because I had a date with a peppy pharmaceutical rep who calls me up when she’s passing through town. I canceled after Ava left my apartment this morning. Call me crazy, but after discussing the possibility of making a baby with Ava, I wasn’t up to a date with another woman.

I wander behind the bar to scope the scene. There’s a decent crowd tonight for off-season, with most of the barstools and half the tables occupied, but behind the bar there’s no sign it’s been busy. Ava keeps everything clean when she’s back here. I never have to get on her about scrubbing the coolers or flushing the keg lines. She takes pride in her work, as if Jackson Brews was her own.

Ava’s worked at Jackson Brews on weekends and the occasional evening since her husband left her two years ago. She started for the extra money, but I like to think she stays on because she likes her nights behind the bar with me. God knows the nights we work together are my favorite.

The truth is, despite Ellie’s concern that the life of a single mom would be too hard for Ava, I know without a doubt that Ava would embrace the challenge. And I know she was right when she told me she wouldn’t regret a child. My only concern boils down to the timing. Is this something she’d want to do if Harrison’s wife weren’t pregnant?

“I just wanted to check on things,” I say, unwilling to admit I came down here just to talk about her plans. “I thought I’d see how everyone’s liking my new white stout.”

Her eyes go wide. “Oh my God! I didn’t even know you tapped it.” She grabs a sampler glass and fills it halfway. “Do you mind?” she asks as she brings it to her lips.

“Of course not.”

She drinks half of the sample in one long swallow and closes her eyes. “Jesus, that’s good.”

Reason #2603 I’m in love with Ava McKinley: she gets good beer.

My family’s business is beer. Dad risked everything to start the family brewery. After years of brewing his own concoctions in the garage, he sold his share of his father’s construction company and founded Jackson Brews. My oldest brother, Brayden, is the face of the business now. He’s responsible for marketing and our distribution deals, as well as the ins and outs of turning our microbrewery into the sizable craft beer empire Dad dreamed it could be. I run the other face of the business—the Jackson Brews Brewpub—and am responsible for eighty percent of the new recipes with the Jackson Brews label. I love to toy with beer almost as much as I love to toy with food, so the job suits me, even if it isn’t anywhere near what I imagined I’d be doing with my computer science degree.

“You really like it?” I ask when she opens her eyes again.

“It’s smooth, but the flavor’s more interesting than the stuff we had from Grand Rapids. Seriously, you wouldn’t know it wasn’t a dark stout if you weren’t looking at it. Crazy!”

“Crazy good or just crazy different?”

“Crazy good,” she says.

Satisfied, I grin and reach around her for a snifter glass to pour my own. This stuff packs a punch at almost thirteen percent ABV—nothing as crazy as a shot of liquor, but strong enough that it should help me through this conversation. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

There’s a hesitation in her voice that makes me frown. “What? What happened?”

She searches my face, then shakes her head. “Nothing. Ellie came over and spoiled me with gifts, then we went to Ooh La La! and consumed irresponsible quantities of sugar and caffeine.”

“That’s what birthdays are for, right?”

“Right.” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth—an old habit that’s always put knots in my gut. “I ran into Myla Quincy while I was there.”

“She’s one of the other English teachers, right?”

She beams. “I’m always impressed that you can keep my coworkers straight.”

“It’s not like there are hundreds of you.” Some days I feel like I should thank her ex-husband for being such a prick. He makes me look like a fucking prince by comparison—not that my princely status ever got me real far with Ava.

“Myla told me the school’s doing layoffs. She was pretty shaken up, worried she’d be out of a job, and honestly, I was at first too.”

“Who can blame you?” I ask. “But you feel better now?”

She grimaces then nods. “Yeah—I mean, better about my own situation, at least. Myla might be screwed, though. I called Francine—the art teacher. She’s been there for twenty-five years and said they’ve always gone by seniority when they’ve had to do layoffs in the past. Nothing’s set in stone, of course, but since I’m the English teacher who’s been there the longest, it was good to hear.”

I release a breath. It would be criminal to lay off Ava. Not only is she an amazing teacher, I’ve watched her take troubled kids and help them funnel all of their energy into theater until they shared her passion. “When will you know for sure?”

She shrugs and swirls her beer in the sample glass. “I don’t know. There are only six weeks left in the school year. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they waited until the beginning of summer to make the cuts.”

“But you’re feeling okay?” I ask. “Not too worried?”

“Not too worried, but I’ll be sad to see anyone go.”

I nod. “I get that.”

“But my head was whirling from that news when I did something crazy.” She shakes her head. “It was impulsive, really, and I’m kind of freaking out now.”

I frown. Shit. Am I too late? Did she go to the sperm bank already? Don’t they have a waiting period or something?

Instead of revealing that I’m panicking inside, I try to keep it light. “Let me guess. You asked Mr. Mooney for some of his sperm.”

She scowls at the mention of her chauvinist principal and slugs me lightly in the chest. “You’re an ass.”

“Guilty as charged.” I laugh and take a pull of my porter. “But seriously, what’d you do?”

She takes a breath, then finishes the rest of her sample. “I blame Ellie,” she says. “She refused to leave my house until I did it. She almost made me late for work.”

“If you don’t start getting specific, I’m just going to fill in the blank with dirty things.”

Grinning, she rolls her eyes. “Stop it. I mean Straight Up Casual. I’m officially enrolled, and I even scheduled two dates. My first is next Saturday.”

My breath leaves me in a rush, and I fucking pray she doesn’t notice. I’ve watched Ava date for years and I’ve never liked it, but I’ve handled it. Hell, I even danced at her wedding. But somehow now, with the full understanding of her endgame, the old kick in the nuts packs a little more punch. “You’re supposed to close next Saturday.”

“I’ve asked Cindy if she’ll swap shifts with me, and she’s cool with it if you are.” That cute little line appears between her brows as she frowns. “You are okay with me taking a Saturday night off, aren’t you?”

“Sure.” I’m not just okay with it—I’ve encouraged her to do it more often. She works too damn much. Between school and theater and Jackson Brews, she barely does anything but work. But for a Straight Up Casual date? For Ava?

I’ve used Straight Up Casual a few times in the past—though I’d rather eat crow than admit that to her right now, or ever—and in my experience, it’s a hookup service used by people looking for a hot night in bed, not a lifetime of love. What else would you expect from a blind date that starts with a shot of straight liquor? “Yesterday it was sperm, and today it’s drunken blind dates.” I shake my head. “You’re full of surprises, Av.”

Her eyes go wide before she turns her gaze away from me completely. She busies herself putting a rack of clean pint glasses on the shelf. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fuck. Now my hurt feelings are turning me into an asshole. What’s wrong with me, anyway? I decided years ago that I was okay with accepting Ava’s friendship and never again asking for more. I’m not a glutton for punishment. But now that she’s talking about starting a family, suddenly I can’t cope? I shake my head. “I’m being a dick. Ignore me.”

“You kind of are.” A regular at the end of the bar raises his empty glass, and Ava pours a fresh beer and runs the tab for another before coming back to stand by me. “Seriously, if you think I’m hyped about using a dating service to find a man, you don’t know me at all.”

I know you better than anyone. “So why are you doing it?”

“I promised Ellie I’d try.”

Ellie is taking Ava’s baby-making plans even harder than I am, so of course she’d want Ava to date around instead of getting knocked up. “But Straight Up Casual? Really?”

“That’s how Ellie and my brother met,” she says.

I’m not sure I’d use Ellie and Colton as the metric by which to measure a successful relationship, but I keep my mouth shut and force myself to shrug. “Well, I hope they match you with someone good.”

She bites her bottom lip and wrinkles her nose. “Is it terrible that I’m not super optimistic?”

“More realistic than terrible.” I take a breath, remembering why I came down here. “Listen, can we talk for a minute?”

She refills her sample glass and nods. “Sure.”

The bar is quiet, and Cindy is working the floor, so she can handle it without Ava. I nod to the kitchen. “In private?”

She arches a brow. “Is everything okay? Is it your mom?”

“Mom’s fine. It’s not that.” I push open the swinging door to the kitchen and follow her through it. “I wanted to talk about this morning . . . what we discussed.”

She does a slow turn, scanning the empty kitchen before turning back to me and saying in a low, conspiratorial whisper, “You mean about the sperm?”

I set my jaw. “Yeah. That.”

Her lips twitch. “Is it a bad word now? Or is pregnancy a taboo conversation?”

I shove my hands in my pocket. “Neither, but it’s your private business, and I didn’t think you wanted every barfly to know it.”

She swats my chest lightly, and I want to grab her hand and hold it there. I’d tell her to pay attention to my heartbeat and feel it accelerate from her touch. I want all the things I’ve spent years aching for and denied myself.

And just like I have for years, I push those feelings aside and prioritize our friendship.

“You didn’t tell me Harrison’s wife is pregnant.”

“I didn’t know you cared.”

“I do when it’s making you do crazy things like try to get knocked up.”

Her gaze drops to the floor. “That’s not why.”

“Isn’t it?” I shove my hands in my pockets. I wish I could tilt her chin up so she was forced to meet my eyes, but we don’t touch like that, and if I touched her face right now, I know I’d want to slide my hand into her hair and lower my mouth to hers. I’ve kissed Ava once. Only once. What would I give for another go at that kiss?

“I’ve wanted a baby for years. The invitation to Harrison’s baby shower just . . . I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re going to be an amazing mom someday. But suddenly you’re going to desperate measures to make it happen? And how does letting Ellie send you on blind dates fit into this?”

“Oh my God!” Her jaw drops, and her eyes go wide. “Is that what you think the dates are for? Jesus, Jake. I’m not some crazy woman who’s going to poke holes in condoms and sleep with every guy I can get in bed.”

I wince. “Christ, I didn’t mean—”

“I promised Ellie I’d go on a few dates before I launched Operation Pregnancy. She’s convinced I can find Mr. Right, but if I can’t—and we both know I won’t be able to—she’s going to support my plan.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “What happens if you meet someone you like? Do you tell him about your ticking clock and your baby-making plans?”

She props her hands on her hips and glares at me. She’s wearing a red Jackson Brews T-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit her like a glove. Somehow, she looks just as sexy in this as she did in the black dress she wore last night.

“I might be shitty at dating,” she says, “but I’m not that stupid. If I find someone I like . . .” Her glare falls away, and she drops her gaze to the floor. “It’s been so long that I have trouble imagining that happening, but if I did, I’d put my plans on the backburner for a while.”

“How many dates did you agree to?”

“Ellie bought me ten.”

My jaw drops. “Wow. That’s . . .”

“A lot. Tell me about it. But I figure I’ll get through most of them before school’s out, and then this summer I can launch Operation Pregnancy. I’m not going to get pregnant if I don’t have a job. By summer I’ll know for sure that I’m safe from the layoffs, so a little delay will be perfect.”

Why the hell did Ellie need me to talk to Ava? She’s already got it under control. By the time Ava gets through ten dates, the shock of Harrison’s new baby and the blow of turning thirty will have worn off. It’s a genius plan, really: make Ava go on dates and remind her just what she’ll be missing out on by doing this alone.

A genius plan that might just make me lose my mind.