Zoe poured her unfinished tea into a travel mug and waved as she slipped outside. She hopped in her truck and took off for the appointment. Fortunately, it was quick and easy, nothing to worry about. She texted Ryder right away about the childbirth class, and added it to the calendar.
Ugh. Too much to think about. Why couldn’t they just knock her out and wake her up after? Wendy had laughed at her when she asked, insisting she wouldn’t want to miss it, and that wouldn’t be good for the peanut or her. Mom had gone au naturel, and she could do it, too. Wendy reassured her that so far, the baby was measuring appropriately sized for her pelvis.
When she got to work, the pub was busy, exactly as she liked it. When she stopped into the office to dump her stuff, Pops was at the desk, dealing with the business end of things she had no interest in.
“Hey Zoe,” he nodded. “Ryder around this weekend?”
She shook her head. “No, he had a thing. He’s trying to nail this big new contract, so he’s in deep for a couple of weeks.”
“Damn. Want to let him know I watched that archaeology show he was telling me about, and it was awesome, but I’m all caught up, and I’ve got nothing to watch until the next season comes out. I need another recommendation.”
Rolling her eyes, she chuckled under her breath and snagged his phone from the desk and programmed in Ryder’s number. “Don’t involve me. That show knocks me out like a sedative. Ask him yourself.”
“Fine,” he winked. “I’ll see how he liked the latest Brandon Sanderson while I’m at it.”
She left him to finish up and strolled into the pub, inhaling the savory scents of the last of the lunch crowd.
From behind the bar, Finn waved. “Hey. Short shift today?”
“I had an appointment.”
“Great. Everything looking good?”
“So far.” She shrugged with a smile. Time was moving blissfully slow, yet frighteningly fast. Slipping into the kitchen, and waved to Mick. She pulled an apron over her belly, scrubbed her hands, and set about making the kitchen her own.
Mick finished plating the order and took off his apron. “You doing okay?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Seconds later, Tara appeared in the doorway, her high ponytail still swaying long after she stopped. “Haven’t you had that baby yet?”
Cringing, Zoe felt a laugh bubbling from deep her belly. “I’ve reached that point, haven’t I? I’m huge. I’m a whale.”
Mick wiped his hands on a towel and leaned against the counter. “As my wife would say, the whale stage is that ninth month, when you beach yourself everywhere, too tired to move.”
Tara danced around to whisper, not that anyone else would hear over the chatter of tonight’s busy crowd. She said to Mick, “Did you know Ryder comes and visits her at work? Sets up at that stool over there and works while she does? They’re so cute.”
Zoe pulled up the latest orders and got to work. “He’s been amazing. Too amazing. I can’t keep up.”
Popping his head over Tara, Finn said, “Hey, let’s get to work. I’ve got some hungry customers.”
Tara hissed before delivering the food, “It’s okay to let him do some of the hard work. You’ve got a busy bun in the oven that’s using up all your brain cells.”
Zoe grumbled and waved her away. Baby brain was no joke. Was Ryder getting berated with all this? Probably not. Even though he didn’t have physical evidence of his plans for the next eighteen years, he was taking all this in stride.
The evening passed brilliantly swiftly, enough to go orders to keep her too busy to think.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. As soon as she caught up the latest slew of orders, the dinner crowd finally thinning, she checked the text.
Popping up one after another, a string of links with photos of gorgeous houses and price tags that made her eyes bug out of her head. Ryder was doing a lot more than just taking on the hard work. He was running with it, thriving under the pressure. Expression pale, she puffed out her cheeks and leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes.
Finn’s voice rumbled across the empty kitchen. “You okay?”
She unlocked her phone and held it out. Crossing toward her, he grabbed it and scrolled through. “Whoa. Nice digs.”
“Right? I keep reminding myself he’s a Mallory, and they see price tags like that and think, ‘No biggie, that’s a minor investment.’”
“And here I was genuinely worried he was going to flake out on you.” He watched as she tried to take in the meaning of the texts. “Are you ready to move in together?”
