CHAPTER SIX

“What Ifs”

Quinn

My mother called the day Evan left for Austin. I’d been avoiding her calls, partially because I was still mad at her for leaving and partially because I hadn’t yet told her about Evan. Mom and I hadn’t always seen eye to eye on things, but I’d always respected her. She lost some of that respect when she left, and I wasn’t sure she would ever get it back. It was like Dad’s death somehow freed her, and at the same time, it caged me. I was trapped in a house filled to the gills with memories of my father, our family, and the life we’d built together. Yes, it was my cage, but it was also my comfort, if that made any sense. I wasn’t sure it did. As angry as I was with her, though, I had to admit that I missed the old bat.

“How’s Florida?” I asked.

“Quinny, girl, you would love it here. Everything blooms and it’s so tropical. You need to come for a visit. Verna has an extra bedroom facing the garden with your name written all over it.”

“I’m sure I would love it,” I unenthusiastically responded, while at the same time rolling my eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m a business owner, which means I can’t take off at the drop of a hat, so Florida will have to wait.” If I could take off, it sure as hell wouldn’t be to Florida. It would be to Austin with a sexy, tatted rock star.

She sighed loud enough for me to hear. “Oh, don’t be mad at me. It’s bad for your blood pressure and causes premature aging. And, I know you can’t leave the bar, but that doesn’t mean I can’t come to you.”

“To Texas?” I asked, hoping I’d misunderstood her.

“No, to Africa. Yes, to Texas.” God, she could be such a smart ass. I’d put off telling her about Evan, but only because I knew she’d give me grief. It looked as if my time was up.

“A visit sounds great, Mom. By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I have a new housemate. His name is Evan Walker. He needed a place to live and I needed help with the house, so it was a win-win for us both.”

“Evan who?” she asked.

“Walker, I answered, and before you ask, he’s no relation to Ethel and Obid. He is, however, slightly famous.” I smiled when I said the last part. My mother did love a good story.

“Oh, famous how?” she bit.

“Well, he’s the keyboardist for a rock band.”

“What?” she gasped, and I secretly laughed.

“Yep, he plays for a band called Meltdown.”

“And he’s living in our house?”

“No, he’s living in my house,” I replied, making sure to stress the word my.

“Is it safe?” she asked on a huff.

“Yes, Mother, it’s safe.”

“And, please, for Heaven’s sake, tell me he’s not staying there for free,” she added. He definitely wasn’t. In fact, he was doing quite the opposite.

The day Evan called to give me a move in date, we discussed rent. I thought a thousand or so a month sounded fair. That would go far with groceries and monthly utilities. He decided that four thousand was better. I argued, and he laughed. I figured I’d have time to talk him down, but his first night here, I found a check for four thousand dollars sitting on my desk. When I approached him about it, he said he needed to do this. I wasn’t sure what this was, but something told me it had nothing to do with the check in my hand. I decided to let it go...for now...

“Yes, he’s paying rent,” I answered.

“Good. Well, I have to say I’m rather curious, now.” Of course, she was.

“He has tattoos,” I warned, knowing how she felt about them. My mother disliked anything that made anyone look different. When I was in college I came home with my hair dyed blue. You would have thought I’d shaved my dang head. By the end of the weekend, my hair was brown again and all was right in Marsha’s life.

“He’s a rock star, Quinny. That’s expected,” she responded in a don’t-you-know-anything tone of voice. I didn’t bother to reply. We talked more about Verna and what was going on around the house before she broached the subject of visiting again.

“I was thinking of coming next month. I could help you plant some fall flowers.” A pang of nostalgia rolled through me. Mom, Dad, and I used to plant flowers together at the start of every fall. It would be nice to continue the tradition.

“I’d like that, Mom. You could even cook your famous beef stew.”

We talked a few more minutes before she had to go. Apparently, she and Verna were into Hot Yoga and were going to be late for their session. I ended the call with a smile on my face. So maybe I was more than marginally over her defection.

That afternoon, I felt slightly out of sorts. It was strange being alone. Our housekeeper, Lowis, wasn’t due until tomorrow, which meant the house was all mine. In the past I would have thrown on a suit and floated around the pool, but that just made me think about Evan. Then again, everything made me think about Evan. Last night before bed I almost Googled him. Not because I wanted to stare at pictures of him—even though I kind of did— but because I wondered what his wife looked like. What woman in her right mind would cheat on a man like Evan Walker? Not a sane one, that’s for sure. And one only had to guess why she was buying a man’s wedding band. Cheating hussy. If it was me, I would have gone on tour with him. That thought hung in my brain for a minute longer than necessary. Would I really quit everything to go on tour with my rock star husband? I kind of think I would. Well, it was a good thing I didn’t have to worry about that.

I ended up spending the afternoon curled on the sofa, listening to the local rock station, of all things, and reading one of my mother’s Victorian love novels.

That night, work was unusually slow. Alex-Ann and I were in the middle of wiping down tables when she mentioned that Baxter had paid her a little visit on my night off.

“Was Amanda with him?” I asked. If she was, I probably would have heard about it by now.

“No, he was alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was busy, and you needed a break. I didn’t want to bother you,” she replied with a shrug. I could tell by her tone that something was off.

“Hey, Will!” I called out.

“Yeah?” he answered from the other end of the bar, where he was busy flirting with a woman who was old enough to be his grandma.

“Alex and I are taking a break. If you need anything, send Gretchen out back to get us!” I told him. Then, grabbing Alex-Ann’s hand, I dragged her through the bar. When we passed by Sam, I noticed a cigarette sitting on the ledge. “Thanks, Sam!” I shouted. Not bothering to wait for an answer, I continued down the hall and out the door with my best friend in hand.

“Talk,” I said, once we were both settled with our butts on the stoop.

“I love this song,” she murmured, clearly evading my order. Truth be told, I liked it too. Kane Brown had one sexy, deep voice. Evan’s had more rasp to it, but it wasn’t near as deep. Once again, I was thinking about Evan. Stop, I told myself.

“I can’t help if you don’t talk,” I coaxed.

“I’m in trouble, Quinny,” she said in a defeated, barely- there tone of voice. This got my attention. Alex-Ann was a fighter, if there ever was one. No matter the situation, the girl had a solution for it.

“Are you in trouble with Baxter?” I asked, thinking that I would wring that boy’s neck, if she said yes.

“He came to tell me that he and Amanda were back together, and the wedding was back on, as if I didn’t already know that,” she scoffed.

Pulling her in for a hug, she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“He threatened me,” she whispered against my shoulder.

I pulled back in order to see her face. “What do you mean, he threatened you?”

“Not threatened as in an I’m-gonna-kill-you, kind of way, but more of a don’t-tell-my-future-wife-I-nailed-you-on-a-dirty-bar-floor, kind of way,” she amended. Forget about Baxter’s neck. I was going to wring Alex-Ann’s!

I yanked my arm back so fast she nearly toppled over. “You said you had wall sex, Alex-Ann.”

“That was before the floor sex,” she admitted on a sigh.

“Shit, girl! How many times did you two do it?” At the rate she was going, I was going to have to fumigate.

“Twice, but that’s not why I’m in trouble.”

“Oh, lawdy. Do I even want to know?”

“I’m late, Quinn. I was supposed to start last week.” It took a moment for her words to register.

“Oh, God, Alex, noooooo,” I groaned, dropping onto my back. Neither of us said a word. We just listened to Kane singing about his what ifs. Shit. This was bad.

When the song switched to Keith Urban’s, “John Cougar, John Deere, John 3:16”, Alex-Ann asked, “Is this song about the bible?”

“Not sure, but Lord knows you could certainly use a little Jesus right now,” I muttered.

“Ha-ha,” she mocked, smacking my leg. As she sang along to the song, I decided that I liked Keith Urban. The line about being baptized in rock-n-roll reminded me of Evan. I needed to stop thinking about Evan.

“I guess I need to take a test,” she finally admitted, once the song was over.

I patted the pavement next to me. “Come down here with me.” When she dropped onto her back beside me, I stared deep into her eyes, and asked, “Why didn’t you use protection?”

“I don’t know. We were already there before I even thought of it, and then it was too late.” Neither of us needed to say more. The damage was already done.

My hand found hers and I gave it a squeeze. “You need to take the test, but please, know that you’re not alone. Whatever happens, I’m with you all the way, okay?”

“Okay. I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.”

We discussed her taking the test sometime over the weekend before heading back inside.

It wasn’t until the drive home that I thought about the cigarette. Today made three days in a row that I’d gone without one. Evan was rubbing off on me.

The next day I made sure to keep busy. I grocery shopped and paid bills in the morning and helped Lowis around the house in the afternoon. When she asked whether she should clean Evan’s room or not, I had no idea how to respond. At her suggestion, I sent him a text. —Hey, Rock Star, do you want Lowis to clean your room?

His reply came immediately — Is this your way of saying you want to snoop?

A humor filled snort shot from my mouth— I did that the day you left. I like the sexy unitard, by the way. You’ll have to model it for me some time, I replied, laughing like a goof.

—I’ll wear it at our next pool date, he replied. My laughter died at the word “date.” Shit. What was I doing? Flirting with my married housemate, that’s what.

—So, should Lowis clean your room or not? I typed.

—Tell her to wait until next week when there’s more to clean, he wrote back. A minute later, my phone pinged with another message. —See you Sunday, it said. I didn’t bother to reply.

Saturday morning, Alex-Ann showed up with donuts and a box of pregnancy tests. With a donut in hand, I followed her to the bathroom. Now came the hard part.

“Promise you’ll help me through this?” she asked as she squatted over stick number one.

“You know I will.”

While waiting for the results, she told me that she wasn’t planning on telling Baxter.

“Don’t you think he has a right to know?” I asked.

“Not when he’s married to her, he doesn’t. That woman is toxic. Lord knows what she’d do to my baby.” She was right about Amanda being toxic, but I disagreed. Baxter should know he was going to be a father. I didn’t mention this to Alex-Ann. She already had enough on her plate.

While she paced back and forth in front of the bathroom sink, I parked my ass on the floor in the hallway outside and finished my second donut. I’d just swallowed my last bite when she picked up the stick and let out a shriek.

“What?” I gasped, jumping to my feet.

“Look!” She shoved the test in my hand. “I’m not preggers!”

My eyes dropped to my hand and I noticed I was holding the pee end of the thing. “Ewww, Alex-Ann! Now I have pee fingers,” I whined, tossing it back at her.

“I’m not pregnaaaaaaant!” she sang from the tops of her lungs as she chucked it in the trash. While she serenaded me, I hauled it to the kitchen to wash the pee off my hands.

That afternoon, in celebration of Alex-Ann not being with child, we put on our swimsuits, cranked up some music, and floated in the pool.

Margo’s was slammed that night and we were down a waitress. If that wasn’t bad enough, Baxter decided to make an appearance. He claimed he was supposed to meet Amanda, but I knew the truth. He didn’t just want to eat his cake. He wanted Alex-Ann’s, too. Well, he wasn’t getting it. By midnight, he was too drunk to drive. I was about to call a cab when Amanda walked in. Wearing all black, she looked like she belonged at a Goth concert.

“You’re late, and he’s drunk,” I said when she stepped up to the bar.

“Hey baby,” he said, though it came out sounding more like Bailey.

“Sorry, lumpkins, traffic was worse than I expected,” she told him. Then turning to me, she asked, “Can I get a glass of water.”

“Sure, and then you need to leave,” I told her. I felt her glaring at me as I filled the glass.

“Why?” she asked, staring at Alex-Ann who, thankfully, was busy with other customers.

“You know why, but if you’d like me to spell it out for the entire bar to hear, I can.”

“Let’s go,” Baxter said. At least one of them had some sense.

“No, she can’t kick us out. We didn’t do anything,” Amanda argued.

Baxter turned to me and said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, and if you’re smart, you won’t be back in the future,” I warned.

“Are you kidding?” Amanda shouted.

Baxter nodded that he understood. Then he pulled his screaming mad, bitch of a fiancée across the floor and out the door.

“Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!” Alex-Ann shouted after them.

By the time I got home that night, I was barely functional. That’s what a day of sun and a night of drunkards would do for you. As my dad would say, I was done tuckered out.

“Hey, Pookie,” I murmured to the orange tabby hunkered by the garage, while unlocking the kitchen door. Normally, he was all over my feet. Something must have spooked him, I thought as I stepped through the door. After locking it behind me, I dropped my purse in a chair and crossed over to the cabinet, where I grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water from the fridge. On my way past the living room, I noticed a cushion on the floor. It took a second to fully register. Why was the living room sofa cushion on the entry hall floor? I picked up the cushion, took a step inside the room, and froze. My heart shot into my throat. The room had been turned upside down. Someone had broken into my house. For all I knew, they were still here.

“Shit,” I whispered. Then I was on the move. Within seconds, I had my purse in hand and was running to my car. Once I was safely inside with the doors locked, I pulled out my phone and called 9-1-1. The dispatcher kept me on the line until the police showed.

Two officers went inside while a third stayed with me. It didn’t take them very long to search the place. Apparently, the burglar only hit two areas of the house; the living room and Evan’s bedroom. I walked through the house with them and didn’t find anything missing. At least, as far as I could tell. The police thought I had probably scared the intruder before they had a chance to do any real damage.

When I explained that Evan wasn’t due back from Austin until tomorrow—or rather later today, being that it was after three in the morning—they suggested I either sleep somewhere else or call a friend. They would come back sometime later in the day to talk to Evan.

On my way to Alex-Ann’s, I called Evan.

“Hlo,” he groggily answered. I’d clearly woken him up. Just hearing his voice made me feel better. It also brought on the tears. Pretty soon, I had to pull over to the side of the road. The entire time I cried, Evan chanted in my ear.

“Talk to me. Please let me know you’re okay.” After a minute or so of listening to me sob, he shouted, “For fuck’s sake, woman, you’re scaring me!”

“S-s-someone broke into the house,” I managed to get out through the tears.

“What? Are you okay? Please tell me you weren’t there?” Surprisingly, the panic in his voice is what calmed me.

Inhaling deeply, I replied, “I was at work and I’m fine. They ransacked the living room and your bedroom, but nowhere else. The police felt they might have been looking for something. They didn’t want me to stay by myself, so I’m heading to Alex-Ann’s.”

“I’m leaving now. Text me the address and I’ll drop by and pick you up at Alex-Ann’s when I hit town.”

“What? No, don’t leave. I’m fine. It just scared me. I’m good now.”

“Text me the address, Country. I’ll see you in a few,” he replied. Then he disconnected the call.

Evan was coming home.