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

With a heavy sigh, he looks past me a moment and shakes his head. “She speaks for herself.” He meets my gaze again and adds, “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t already know what I said is true.”

“I’m not here to mess up anything.”

“She already has someone. So back off.”

I remain unbothered although my eyes narrow. “Sounds like you guys are a thing?”

“We are and I’m sure you know we are.”

“See, that’s confusing, though, because the town says you aren’t. And Magnolia says she’s single.”

“I plan on changing that tonight,” he says and nods his head like it’s a done deal. “Maybe we kept it low key before, but I’m all in with Mags and everyone knows that.”

“Doesn’t seem like you,” I tell him.

“I’m willing to leave with her, pick up and go.” His confidence rises and I don’t know why. Magnolia hasn’t hinted that she wants to leave. It’s been just the opposite. “Are you willing to do that? Change your life for her? Because I am.”

The intensity of the conversation increases with every passing second. Until he clears his throat and glances past me to the three waitresses who are just behind us, setting a single table.

As if it isn’t obvious they’re listening. My annoyance couldn’t be any greater.

“I sent the paperwork over to your company’s email. Congratulations on your bar.” Robert’s regards come with a nod and he moves to turn his back to me.

“You signed it?” I’m not going to lie, a piece of me thought he wouldn’t, just to keep me out of town and away from Magnolia. Everything about this guy throws me off.

“Yeah, it’s all signed. I think I may be long gone by the time it opens, though. And just so you know, I plan on taking Magnolia with me.”

Magnolia

“I’m relieved he’s the one who messaged, though,” I say to Renee, who is seated on the other side of my kitchen island. Slipping in my favorite earrings, I add, “I needed to message him anyway,” I lower my voice so Bridget can’t hear, “about the test.”

“That’s good dinner conversation,” she jokes flatly and then calls out, “What do you want for dinner, Bridge? Scagetti?” She mimics the way Bridget says spaghetti and the two of them clap when my little girl shrieks with joy.

“But what’s he want to talk about?”

“He didn’t say. I would think it’s a new position maybe?” He’s always kept me up to date whenever something’s changed for him. When he bought a house, when he transferred departments. Every step of the way, he’s kept me informed. “Something must’ve changed,” I say and slip on my heels.

“Yeah … it has nothing to do with Romeo showing up?”

“I told you.” With my voice lowered I remind her, “I told him about Brody already.”

“Yes, you told me. You told me he understood and I told you politicians are bred to be liars.” She rolls her eyes just like she did last time.

“Well, whatever it is,” I tell her, picking up my car keys, “I’ll spill the beans when I get home. Promise.”

“Enjoy your fancy dinner,” she calls out after me, “I’m going to enjoy my fine dining with my favorite little girl in the whole wide world.”

I have to smile as I kiss the top of Bridget’s head, who’s hard at work scribbling in her coloring book. “Love you, my little miss.”

She’s too invested in the red and blue swirls so I head out with a wave and say thanks again to Renee.

The drive there, I can only think about two things: how I forgot my jacket so it’s going to be chilly with only this sleeveless cotton dress on, but mostly, how the last time I was at Morgan’s I was having an official first date with Brody.

Clicking the radio off, I let the turmoil eat me up. I’m with Brody now. I’m not a girl who sleeps around and even though Brody didn’t say anything to make it official, I am not doing anything with Robert while I’m seeing another man.

As I hit every red light on the way there, I groan. Feels like a sign this conversation isn’t going to go oh so well.

That’s the thing with Robert, though, I can have any conversation I need with him. I always have.

We should have done this years ago. It’s all I can think as I walk into the restaurant and make my way to where Robert’s sitting. He stands like a gentleman and pulls out my chair.

“You forgot your jacket?” he asks with an asymmetric grin. Rubbing my arms, I scrunch my nose and tell him, “I’ll warm up.”

When he politely pushes in my chair, I thank him and then the waiter who’s already beside me with a menu.

My nerves rattle, but even as I order a drink, I keep thinking we should have done this years ago. “We should have had a paternity test years ago.” My hushed comment slips out the second the waiter has let us be.

The ease and peace I feel with the decision today is not at all reflected in Robert’s surprised eyes. Regret instantly consumes me.

With a glass of wine to help me settle, I take a sip of ice water as he reaches for his tumbler of whiskey.

“A paternity test?” he asks and the thud of the glass on the table matches the thud in my chest.

“You don’t think so?” I whisper the question and his head shakes silently as the waiter sets my glass of wine down.

“Thank you,” I manage to get out with a small smile, even though Robert’s lips are pressed in a thin line.

“It’s not that I want anything … legally.”

“It’s not that, Mags.”