Sarah Mayberry - Her Kind of Trouble

Seth gave a silent sigh. In any other woman, he’d blame Lola’s lapse of memory on pregnancy hormones, but the truth was that she’d always been a bit flaky. Forgetful, more inclined to rub a crystal to get rid of a headache than take a painkiller, and absolutely hopeless with money. She also wasn’t great at thinking through the repercussions of her actions, or planning ahead.

“I’ll see if they can reschedule us and call you back with the time.”

“Oh, you’re waiting for me? I’m so sorry.”

Of course he was waiting for her. He came to all her appointments. Where did she think he was?

He bit back his irritation. There was no point getting frustrated with Lola. Her feelings would be hurt, and then he’d get the silent treatment for days.

“I’ll call you in five.” He hung up and went to talk to the receptionist. She was very understanding, managing to find a spot for Lola the following day, then he called Lola and passed on the details.

“Why don’t you set up a reminder on your phone for tomorrow morning?” he suggested.

“I’m not stupid, Seth. There’s no need to talk to me as though I’m a child.”

Dear God, not the don’t-treat-me-like-a-child argument again.

“I was just making a suggestion. If you don’t think it has any merit, feel free to ignore it,” he said, attempting to defuse the situation.

Too late, Lola was off and running. For the next ten minutes he listened as she enumerated her achievements—leaving her home in the United Kingdom to come here on her own two years ago, being promoted to shift leader at the call center where she used to work after only three months on the job, having to ask her parents for money only twice since she’d left home, while the girl she was living with practically had her rent paid by her father.

At times like these, he was reminded only too well of how young she was. At twenty-four, he’d been messier, less organized and a whole hell of a lot more irresponsible than her. Just as well one of his guys hadn’t slipped through back then. Twenty-four-year-old him and twenty-four-year-old Lola would have been a disaster of epic proportions. As it was, it would be a line-call as to whether thirty-four-year-old him and Lola could pull this thing off between them.

Although it wasn’t as though they had a choice.

Somehow he managed to assure her that he hadn’t been taking a shot at her, agreeing that he’d meet her at the clinic again tomorrow before ending the call. He needed to get to the bar to make his six o’clock appointment with his brother, so he jumped into his Audi and wasted five minutes trying to get it to start before the engine finally caught and he could hit the road. He made a mental note to talk to the mechanic to get the ignition fixed. One of many things he needed to take care of in the run-up to Lola’s due date. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with a car that wouldn’t start when she was in labor.

He was tired and hungry by the time he parked in the reserved spot behind the bar, not a great sign when his day wouldn’t be over until at least midnight. Scrubbing his face, he let himself in the back door and hollered out a hello to the guys in the kitchen before heading upstairs to his shoe-box-size office.

He sat at his paper-strewn desk and stared bleakly at the scuffed wall. There was no getting around it—he was deeply, profoundly worried about how Lola would cope with being a mother. Not because she was a bad person, but because she simply didn’t handle difficult situations well. Her default reaction to any stressful situation was to retreat to bed and stay there eating junk food for as long as she could get away with it. Yes, she could be fun—a lot of fun—when she was in the right frame of mind, but she could also be impatient, temperamental and self-centered.

Right, and you’re a freaking saint. Perfect daddy material.

He wasn’t. He was the first to admit that. He’d lived selfishly his entire life. About the only thing he’d ever fully committed to was the bar—and, perhaps, to being a decent uncle to his brother’s kids. But he was fairly certain he understood many of the challenges that lay ahead. He knew there were going to be late nights and not a lot of sleep and periods of intense frustration and worry. He knew that no matter what else was happening for him or Lola, the baby needed them to put him or her first. Every time.

He wasn’t one hundred percent certain Lola had the same take on parenting, however. He wasn’t sure that she’d given much thought to the way things would work between them, in fact. She preferred to “take things as they come” and not get “bogged down in all the details”—both phrases she’d used to fob him off last week when he’d tried to discuss a care schedule for when the baby was born. He’d wanted her to know that he would be there to support her in any way she needed him to be, but she’d shied away from the discussion. As though by avoiding the conversation she could pretend for a little bit longer that she wasn’t about to become a parent.

Which boded really bloody well for the future.

The phone on his desk buzzed, signaling a call from downstairs.

“Hey, boss. You’re brother’s here,” Syrie said when he picked up. “You want us to send him up?”

“Thanks. And send up a couple of beers and a large fries, too, okay?”

“I’ll put it on your tab.”

“Funny.”

He took a second to check his emails—nothing urgent—before the sound of steps on the stairs announced his brother’s arrival.

“Good to see you,” Seth said when Jason entered the office. “Grab a seat. I’ve got some beers coming our way in five.”

“I knew I liked coming here for a reason,” Jason said as he loosened his tie and set down his briefcase.

Seth tried not to smile. He could count on the fingers of one hand the times Jason had dropped by Night Howls for a drink. Usually he was either working late or had some commitment with his family—which was the way it should be when you had two kids under five.

“What did you have to do to get out of jail early?” he asked.

Jason touched his briefcase with the side of his shoe. “There’s a reason why that bastard weighs a ton. Lots of stuff to go through when I get home.”

“Man, I don’t know how you do it,” Seth said, shaking his head.

He’d long since given up the hard partying days of his youth, but the thought of showing up at an office in the city at eight every morning and sitting under fluorescent lights all day and not checking out again till it was dark outside made him want to launch himself from the top of the nearest building.

Jason shrugged easily. “Horses for courses, mate. No way could I stand working the hours you do, either. I’m comatose once it hits nine.”

“That’s because you’re up at sparrow’s fart. I don’t start the day till ten, minimum.”

“That is so going to change when the baby comes along.” Jason’s laugh held more than a hint of schadenfreude. “How many weeks is it now?”

“Four.”

“It’ll be so much fun watching you do this.”

“This is an ugly side of you, just so you know.”

“Consider it payback for all the years you gave me shit for not coming out to play because I had to be home with Jodie and the kids. I’m allowed to savor the irony a little.”

Seth shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, I was a dick. You’re a good dad, and you have awesome cute kids. If they were mine, I’d want to be home with them, too, instead of out with a douche like me.”

“Funny you should mention that.” Jason yanked at his tie, loosening it further.

Seth braced himself. When his brother had called to ask if they could catch up tonight, he’d been a little surprised, given they mostly saw each other on Jason’s turf. It had only taken him a few minutes’ thought to work out what his brother wanted to see him about, however. Seth had dropped the big news about Lola and the baby on Jason and Jodie only last week, and he figured his brother was here to offer him some guidance, man-to-man. Which, frankly, he was more than happy to take. He figured he and Lola needed all the help they could get.