End Times (21 page)

Was that why the cashier had gone so cold all of a sudden—because she thought Janie was a rich snot like those girls? She felt like explaining that her family still lived in a trailer, and that she’d take a strong hug and a prayer over all the fancy baby clothes in the world any day of the week. But she shouldn’t have to explain herself to this girl! What right did she have to go judging Janie just because her family had gotten lucky?

She signed the receipt, thanked the girl in the most clipped and formal voice she could muster, and hustled her shopping cart on out of there, struggling to keep the wheels from fishtailing on the floor.

In the shade of a fake palm tree near the mall’s food court, she lowered herself onto a bench and texted Doug. He’d gone into Cheyenne to find a new dirt bike and asked her to come with him, suggesting she could pick up a few things for the baby—and since it was the first time he’d really asked her to do anything since Trey’s accident, she’d jumped at the chance.

There in 30
, Doug texted back.
Wut r u wearing?

She giggled into her palm, then looked around to see if anyone had seen. Doug was being cute and funny again—and it felt so good to see him getting his sense of humor back!

U know wut—same thing i wore here!
she replied.

A second later, her phone buzzed.

Go buy urself a nice dress
, the screen said.
Im takin u somewhere fancy 4 dinner.

“Yay!” Janie squealed out loud, this time not caring if anyone heard. She couldn’t believe Doug was turning the excursion into a real date. He’d never really been the romantic type—it just wasn’t his thing, he was too much of a
guy
—and lately he’d barely even acted like a boyfriend. He’d been drinking more since Trey’s death, his neck constantly red and his eyes puffy and bloodshot, and he’d been moodier than ever before. A couple of times, he’d flown off the handle for no reason, screaming at her and calling her a fat cow when all she wanted was to satisfy a perfectly normal pregnant-lady ice cream craving—and once he’d even raised his fist in anger, making her cower away from him in terror before he lowered it quickly and resumed his normal sneer of disgust. She figured it was just the way he grieved, that if she showed him enough patience and turned the other cheek he’d eventually come around. Now it looked like she’d been right.

Her ankles were swollen and beginning to ache, but she struggled to her feet and waddled through the mall to Mimi Maternity, where she told the salesgirl she was going to a
really
fancy dinner and let herself be sold a floor-length black gown with a slit halfway up one side and silver sequins glittering on the neckline. It cost five times what she’d spent on her prom dress, but when she handed over the credit card, she felt only a tiny pang of guilt—much less than the tidal wave that had flattened her back at Babies “R” Us, although she still made a promise to herself that she’d make a big fat donation to the church when she got home.

She wore the dress out, stopping at Sephora to freshen her makeup with the free samples they left lying around everywhere, and even splurged on a pair of dangly black chandelier earrings that the guy at Kay Jewelers assured her looked
very
elegant. Waiting for Doug in the sheltered area outside the mall, watching the sunset turn the sky over Cheyenne into a big bowl of strawberry-peach yogurt, she felt like the star in one of those rom-coms about people in cities with really perfect hair. The air had cooled, sending a refreshing breeze skipping across the parking lot, and just before Doug’s pickup pulled up she felt the baby kick, reminding her of the sacred bond that would keep her and Doug and their brand-new little family together for always.

Doug rolled down the window and let out a long, low wolf whistle when he saw her. “Hey, sexy,” he called. “When I told you to buy something nice, I didn’t think you’d come out looking
this
good!”

She glowed at the compliment. She always did her best to look hot for her man, but it wasn’t every day that he noticed.

“Why, thank you, handsome.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “You want to help me with these bags?”

Doug put the truck in park and hopped out. His hair was slicked back, and instead of his jeans he had on the dark blue suit he’d worn to their senior semiformal. He’d put on some weight since, and the seams cut in a little at his shoulders, but with his white shirt and dark tie he was still as great-looking as Janie had ever remembered him, the big, muscular hunk she’d fallen in love with her sophomore year.

“You buy the whole store?” he joked, loading bag after bag with the Babies “R” Us logo (and, okay, a few that said Mimi Maternity, too) into the truck.

“Just the good stuff.” She leaned in and kissed him, breathing in Abercrombie cologne and that musky Doug smell that always got her kind of hot. “It’s for our baby.”

“I know it is,” he said, helping her into the passenger’s seat. “That kid’s gonna be mad rich—first-generation oil money, like a boss.”

Janie sat back happily as Doug maneuvered out of the parking lot and onto Prairie Avenue. It felt so good to have the old Doug back: the Doug who joked and laughed and noticed when she looked pretty, instead of the moody creature who had taken over her boyfriend’s body practically the moment she’d announced she was pregnant. Sometimes it seemed like the more their child grew, the surlier Doug got, as if he was the one with hormones rushing all over the place instead of her.

She glanced over at him, stopped at a red light. He was nodding along to the hard rock song on the radio, his face scrunched up against the sun’s low, orange glare. He had that look on his face—the tense one that meant that something was bothering him—but she shook it off. He was probably just squinting at the road.

“Where are you taking me, anyway?” she asked, fiddling with one of her new earrings.

“Somewhere special.” His eyes didn’t leave the road. “Like you.”

He turned at a maroon sign that read
Luigi’s Ristorante
in curly gold script, and stopped in front of a building with a fancy circular entrance supported by white columns. A man in a uniform with gold buttons rushed to open Janie’s door, and she had to swallow a squeal of delight as he took her arm and helped her alight on the pavement. It was like a fairy tale: the red carpet, the potted shrubberies that twinkled with fairy lights, the glass doors beyond which she could hear muffled jazz music and laughter and the clink of glasses. People on TV went to places like Luigi’s Ristorante
all the time, but the closest Janie had ever been was the banquet hall of the Rawlins Holiday Inn for prom.

Maybe that would change, too, she thought as Doug came around the side of the truck and took her arm. Maybe being rich would be even better than she thought.

“I told you this place was nice,” he said low in her ear.

The man in the coat with the gold buttons held the door open as Doug escorted her into the restaurant. Inside it smelled like garlic and roses, and a woman with milky skin and dark hair took their names and led them through a maze of tables where couples older than Janie’s parents sipped wine and gazed at each other over flickering candlelight.

“It’s like an American Express commercial!” she whispered in Doug’s ear. He smiled tensely, obviously feeling out of his element: His shoulders were all hunched up, and he walked awkwardly in front of her, trying not to bump any of the tables.

“You like it here?” he asked once they were seated. Their table was at the back of the restaurant, under a trellis hung with imitation ivy and more twinkling fairy lights that made it feel like they were in an enchanted garden.

“It’s beautiful,” Janie breathed. A rush of gratitude caught in her throat, so strong that for a moment she thought she’d cry. Even in his grief over Trey, Doug was doing his best to make her happy. Even if he’d been tough to be around (and, okay, maybe a little scary sometimes), his moodiness hadn’t been his fault. He’d just been upset about Trey. Soon he’d be over it and they’d be back to normal . . . maybe even
better
than normal.

A waiter in a white shirt with a long, black apron came by and introduced himself as Lorenzo. “May I start you off with some wine?” he asked, handing Doug a leather-bound book the size of the Peytons’ photo album. Janie started to say no and gesture to her belly, but Doug cut her off.

“Yeah, uh, we’ll have a bottle of red,” he said.

“Of course, sir. May I ask which variety? We have one of the most extensive wine lists in the state.” Lorenzo leaned over and flipped open the book, revealing what looked like an entire page written in Italian.

Panic flickered across Doug’s face. Janie knew he was more of a beer kind of guy—the only time she’d ever seen him drink wine was when Bryce’s parents had gone out of town for the weekend and they’d all chugged white zinfandel until the ceiling spun and Janie had practically wet her pants laughing.

“Perhaps you’d like a Chianti,” the waiter prompted, turning the page and pointing at a random set of words. “This bottle is very popular with our patrons—it’s robust and flavorful but easy to drink, delicious with steak and meat-based pasta dishes.”

“Sure, we’ll take it.” Doug was still squinting at the wine list, and Janie didn’t blame him. An entire book, just for bottles of wine? It seemed insane.

“Are you going to drink the whole thing?” she teased after the waiter had floated away.

Doug colored. “Maybe.” He cracked his neck from side to side. “It’s, like, what you’re supposed to do in places like this.”

“I guess I can drive home if I have to,” Janie offered. It was nearly three hours back to Carbon County, and working the clutch on Doug’s truck made her ankles hurt, but she’d been extra sensitive about driving under the influence since Trey’s accident.

A flash of anger darkened Doug’s face, and she instinctively cowered away from him. Lately, it was like she never knew what he might do next—and she wasn’t sure anymore of how to make it right. She was still fumbling for something cute to say, something that would scoop the magic of the evening right back up and into their laps where it belonged, when Lorenzo returned with a bottle in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. He made a big show of uncorking the wine at their table, flapping and flourishing like a flamingo, and then poured the tiniest little amount of wine Janie had ever seen into Doug’s glass.

“Uh, okay, thanks.” Doug eyed the magenta liquid distrustfully while the waiter hovered over them, still holding the bottle.

“Would you care to try it, sir?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, sure.” Doug downed the wine in one gulp. “It’s good?”

“Excellent.” The waiter filled his glass halfway and then took their orders, assuring Doug that his steak would arrive as rare as was legally possible in the state of Wyoming.

“I can’t wait to try that fettuccine Alfredo!” Janie reached across the table for Doug’s hand. “It looks so amazing. I still can’t believe we’re really here—this place is like a dream!”

“Yeah.” The wine had eased some of the tension from Doug’s shoulders. He poured himself another glass, this time filling it almost to the rim—way higher than the waiter had, Janie noticed. She reminded herself not to say anything. At least he was drinking with her and not his buddies or who-knows-who-else.

“Did you find a bike you liked today?” she asked.

“You bet I did.” Doug reached under the table and massaged her leg, sending a shiver running up it, straight to
there
. “This new baby’s gonna be all custom—one hundred percent. I sat with the guy for a couple hours and we went over everything: It’s gonna have a KTM one twenty-five cc two-stroke, titanium frame, all-leather seat and handlebar covers. Oh, and get this—he knows a detailer who can give me a custom paint job with Trey’s initials. Like, in memory and stuff.”

“That’s so sweet of you.” A ball of emotion rose in Janie’s throat, thinking about the friend they’d both lost. Doug was so brave to want to remember him every single time he rode. Sometimes all she wanted to do was forget.

“Whatever.” Doug downed the rest of his wine and reached for the bottle again. “What about you? Find good stuff for the baby?”

“So much cute stuff! I got a car seat and some onesies and this adorable stuffed giraffe and some chew toys and—is that what they’re called for babies? Chew toys? Or is that for dogs?”

Doug snorted. “Heck if I know.”

“Do infants even need chew toys? Or is that for older babies?” Janie thought of the colorful silicone rings sitting in their Babies “R” Us bag in Doug’s truck. She hadn’t actually checked the age on the box, and to tell the truth she’d barely skimmed the baby books Daphne checked out of the library for her. She’d just kind of assumed they’d figure it out as they went along. People had babies all the time: How hard could it be?

“I have no clue,” Doug said. “I thought you knew all that stuff. You’re the one who wanted to keep it so bad.”

“Doug!” Janie felt her face go scarlet and her lips start to tremble. She was about to remind him which one of them had begged to try it without condoms when the food arrived, with silver domes over their plates that Lorenzo pulled aside like he was doing a magic trick.

“Now that’s a steak,” Doug said approvingly, watching the juices trickle out and darken his mashed potatoes.

Janie could barely wait for the waiter to finish sprinkling grated cheese and pepper from a mill the size of a grain silo onto her pasta before diving in. It was ten thousand times better than the Stouffers fettuccine Alfredo she liked to heat up in the microwave, with enough cheesy, creamy goodness to satisfy an entire week’s worth of pregnancy cravings.

“Doug?” she looked up mid-bite, thick green noodles falling off her fork.

“Yeah?” he said around a mouthful of meat.

“You don’t think we’re too young to have a kid, do you?” she asked.

“Aw, babe.” He swallowed his steak and went to work sawing off another hunk. “I don’t know. And it’s too late now, anyway. Why are you even asking?”