Solitary Man(17)
Author: Carly Phillips

He shrugged and headed for a seat across from her, finding comfort in the barrier the old tabletop provided. “What is it?”

“Same as it was yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that. We need to reach an agreement, Kevin. One we can both live with. I need to go on with my life and you need to let me live it.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Approaching her boss had been underhanded. A move borne more out of fear than rational protective instincts. He could admit that much to himself. “You want me to back off.”

“That’s right”

He fought an internal battle. Trusting her instincts versus trusting his own. “I still don’t think the job’s good for you.” She opened her mouth to argue and he held up a hand to stop her. “Hear me out. You’re pale, for one thing. Exhausted for another.”

“And you heard the doctor. As soon as this morning sickness passes, I should be fine.”

“And in the meantime?”

“I’ll take it easy at work. I’ll take more breaks, I promise. But you have to stop hanging around all the time. Just how are you functioning at work, anyway?”

“Not easily,” he muttered. He made his own hours, already had the security in place down at the warehouse, and he wore a beeper. If he got in to work late in the morning, no one noticed. But keeping bar hours and working a day job was beginning to catch up with him.

“If you go back to living your own life, nothing will happen to me. Let’s face it Kevin. If something were to go wrong, you couldn’t prevent it even if you were there.”

Leave it to Nicole—perceptive, intelligent, Nicole—to figure out the crux of the problem. “Maybe not, but at least I’d be there.”

This time. Did she say the words or did he merely think them?

Nikki reached out and grabbed his hand. “You can’t bring Tony back by making me your number one responsibility,” she said softly.

She could become much more to him than a responsibility, he thought. But she deserved better. “You’re not giving me a choice, are you?”

“I can’t stop you from hanging out at the bar, but I can promise to make you as miserable as possible.” A grin lit the edges of her mouth and in her eyes, he caught a glimpse of the old sparkle. She obviously sensed she’d won this round.

She had, but Kevin didn’t plan to go down without a fight. “You want your freedom, you want me to back off? Then I have some conditions of my own.”

SIX

One week without Kevin’s surveillance. Nikki set a last round of drinks down onto a table filled with lingering customers. She still wasn’t sure why Kevin had given in but she wasn’t complaining. Although she missed his presence, missed the constant flutters in her stomach whenever he was nearby, she was also calmer knowing she was relying on herself. Of course she still had to check in with him in the mornings and again after work—but it had been her suggestion, not his. She couldn’t see worrying him to distraction when a quick phone call would prevent it.

Nikki was working without Kevin’s constant presence and she considered it a battle won.

Even better, her boss had indeed been a prince. He’d spared her cleanup duty without docking her pay. And though Nikki didn’t like taking charity, she was smart enough about her situation to accept the favor.

She leaned down to stuff her tips inside her boots and without warning, doubled over in pain. Deep breaths didn’t come easily, but she forced air into her lungs, hoping the cramp was one of those growing pains she’d read about and would subside. But growing pains wouldn’t be in the center of her stomach, and this was.

And damn but she hurt. Nikki leaned against the wall for support and though she’d never have believed it five minutes ago, she wished Kevin were sitting in the bar, nursing a club soda.

The smell of cigar smoke wafted in the air, and reached her nose. “Jack?” Only the wall held her upright.

“You okay? Because I’m no good around sick people. Especially sick pregnant people.”

Somehow she managed to laugh. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything except call nine-one-one.

* * *

The aura of déjà vu wasn’t pleasant. Kevin faced his father’s landlord, the same as he’d done too many times in the past. “I’m sorry about the mess in the hall. This should more than cover cleanup costs.” Kevin peeled off a hundred dollars in cash and handed it to the older man.

“But not the hassle,” the landlord muttered. Privately, Kevin agreed with him. But there was no way he was paying any more for his father’s drunken tantrum. Highway robbery wasn’t a precedent he intended to set.

“Max’ll help with the cleanup.” Kevin glanced back toward the hall, wondering how he’d keep that promise. He rubbed his burning eyes. He’d rather be sleeping than taking care of his father’s mess. “I’ll talk to him before I leave. And thanks for calling me,” Kevin said.

He headed for his father’s apartment at the end of the hall. The closer he got, the more the dank smell of the old, musty building mingled with alcohol. Memories of his childhood assaulted him, none of them pleasant. Without warning, he slammed open the door to the apartment.

“What the…” His father bolted upright on the old plaid couch. Recognition dawned in Max’s dark eyes, eyes that looked so much like Kevin’s own—except for the added red-rimmed, bloodshot appearance.

Kevin shook his head, wishing things would change, knowing they never would. If his father hadn’t sobered up when Kevin’s mother had been alive, there wasn’t a shot in hell he’d do it on his own.

“Hey, Kev. Nice of you to stop by. A week late for the old birthday but what the hell. I can always use an excuse to celebrate.”

Kevin stepped over a scattered pile of newspapers and an empty bag of chips. “Aren’t you getting old for this, Max?”

“Whatever happened to calling me Dad, or do you think you’re too old to show some respect?”

Kevin took in his father’s unbuttoned jeans and stained undershirt. He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t recall a time when memories of Max weren’t marred by alcohol or the older man’s self- pity. Couldn’t remember a time when his love for his parent wasn’t diluted by pain.

He faced his father once more. “Respect has to be earned,” Kevin said. So did the name Dad, but Kevin wasn’t up to the argument. His old man would never understand that it took more than the planting of the seed to make a man a father.