Chapters (46)
- Cover
- Other Titles
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Friday
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- Saturday
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- Sunday
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Monday
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Alyssa waves her off. “Why would you be sorry? You don’t owe me anything.” She gives a little half smile. “Except maybe a couple months’ rent.” When she comes out from behind the bar to clear some beer bottles, Finn realizes her stomach is the size of France.
“You’re pregnant?” Finn asks, immediately thinking, Oh god, please let her actually be pregnant.
“Seven months.”
It seems like a weird, clichéd question to ask, but she has no other choice: “Who’s the father?”
Alyssa laughs. “Come on, you can’t be that far behind.” She motions to a booth in the corner, where Eric, Barkley’s owner, sits talking on his cell phone, the table in front of him littered with papers and empty beer bottles. Finn shivers. She and Alyssa used to make fun of Eric, call him Mr. Hands, for obvious reasons. Looking back at all of that now, it seems painfully clear that it was Alyssa’s destiny to be impregnated by her skeevy, hard-luck boss. Watching Alyssa resting the drink tray on her stomach as she helps him straighten up his papers, Finn wonders if maybe Alyssa didn’t actually get it right, keeping things uncomplicated, within reach. Then Eric winks at Finn with his scuzzy little beady eye and she scratches that thought.
“Congrats,” she says when Alyssa gets back, with all the sincerity she can muster.
Alyssa waves her off again. “It’s not like I ran a marathon. Anyone can get knocked up.” She puts the tray back down on the bar. “But I’m guessing you’re not here to catch up with me.”
“Hey, Lyss,” the white guy next to Finn slurs. “Can I get another Canadian?”
“You can wait till I’m finished talking, Marv.” She leans her elbows on the bar, and close up Finn can see how tired she is. Her eyes still sparkle, though, with a hint of the old Alyssa, the one who used to dance around in her underwear to Britney Spears, help Finn steal gum from the Tiki Hut. “He’s in the pool room.”
“Who’s in the pool room?”
Alyssa raises her eyebrows. “Dallas,” she says slowly. “Isn’t that who you’re here to see?”
Finn feels her insides drop to the floor. “Dallas? Dallas is here?”
“Dallas Vaughn’s always here,” Marv says. “He’s here like it’s his job.”