Tequila Rose by Willow Winters (any book recommendations .TXT) 📗

puff and roll my eyes but instead I’m deflated, and my energy levels are nowhere close to being where they should be. It’s not every day you have to break news to someone like I have to. Hey, it’s been a few years since we spent fewer than twenty-four hours together … By the way, my little girl may be biologically related to you. Surprise!

“Can’t I just leave him a note?” I half joke, lifting my gaze to the computer screen which should be showing ticket sales for the gallery exhibit but instead it shows social media sites for Brody Paine. A picture of him seated in a foldout chair on the sand of some beach on the East Coast three years ago stares back at me. His tanned skin and cocky smirk light a fire inside me I’ve been doing my best to smother. “Dear Brody,” I say to begin my best impression of reading a nonexistent letter aloud, even holding up the imaginary piece of paper as if I can see it. “You’re a father. I should have told you sooner but I couldn’t find you after I bailed college to come home to a scandal that ruined my name and made my life hell. I’ve only just now found my place in this life, but congratulations, you’re a dad. At least I’m pretty sure, since her eyes look just like yours.”

Renee stifles a laugh with the cuffs of the sleeves to her favorite navy blue zip-up hoodie that boasts a heart in the upper right corner along with the words, “How about no?” With her leggings and gray tank underneath, I know she’s wanting to go on her run. She does that, all the working out and physical things. I, however, have a three-year-old. If I’m running, it’s because I’m chasing my little girl who probably stole a Sharpie off my desk.

“If you want to tell him, tell him.” Renee shrugs and a more serious tone takes over. “If you want to give him a note, do that.”

“What if I don’t want to do either?”

“You don’t want to tell him at all?” Renee’s expression doesn’t display confusion or judgment. She doesn’t even ask the question as if it’s a question. It’s just a matter-of-fact statement.

“You can get to know him first. If you want. You don’t have to tell him the second you see him. These are … unprecedented occasions.”

“You make it sound so easy. Don’t tell him, take your time, when you do tell him he won’t be resentful or in denial at all.” My sarcasm drenches the sentence.

“Resentful?” Renee says and scoffs, tossing her head back and taking a seat against the window to the gallery. It’s empty, as per usual. But in twenty minutes a man will be walking through those doors to pick me up and I haven’t got a clue how to have this conversation with him.

“He has no right to be resentful.”

“He does too. He had a child for years and didn’t know,” I say, defending the sentiment. I’d have a hard time not feeling a certain kind of way about that if our situations were reversed. “I’d want to know—”

“You tried,” Renee says, cutting me off. “Maybe you forget, but you tried like hell when you were already going through hell.”

My fingers wrap around the thin wristwatch that used to be my mother’s. I check the mother-of-pearl face of it only to find another whole minute has passed. Minute by minute, I keep checking and I don’t stop.

“You did your best, Mags,” Renee says, her voice full of emotion when I don’t respond.

With a long inhale, I nod. “I did my best.” Why does it never feel like it’s good enough?

“And you’ve done a damn good job.” Renee nods as if agreeing with herself.

“I’m going to blow this, you know? I’m going to sit down and blurt it out and he’s not going to believe me.” That’s my biggest fear. That Brody won’t believe me. Or that he won’t want anything to do with Bridget.

“Then that’s on him,” Renee says and she sounds so sure. She’s so very certain of everything.

The only thing I’m certain of is that it’s going to hurt. Regardless of what happens, this is going to hurt.

Shaking out my hands and then rubbing my clammy palms on my floral high-waisted skirt, I calm myself down. Until the bell dings and I lift my gaze to see Robert standing there. I look him over from head to toe to find he’s in a tailored gray suit without a tie, his crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

He’s freshly shaven and when he walks up to the counter, leaning against the top of it with his forearms, I catch a whiff of his scent. He smells like sea breeze and old memories.

Oh nooooo. He needs to go right now. It’s hard enough having to face Brody. Having to face Brody in front of Robert? Nope. He needs to go back right through that door he just came from.

“Busy as usual,” he jokes with a grin and then waves at Renee as I force myself to huff a laugh.

“And what brings you to this humble establishment?” I joke back, keeping the smile on my face. It comes naturally, but the turmoil roiling inside of me from head to the bottoms of my tippy-toes begs me to spit out the secret. To cut off whatever it is he has to say and spill my guts and tell him to hightail it out of here. I’ve told him everything all my life. I’ve told Robert things I’ve never even told Renee. Although that truth is the