One to Tell the Grandkids by Kristina M Sanchez

current situation, the idea shouldn’t have surprised her. A young person out drinking with friends was going to flirt.
    There wasn’t much she remembered about the night they’d spent together. She knew better, but Melanie had encouraged her. It had been a bad week. Just one, she’d told herself when her friend pushed the first drink at her.
    It felt good. One drink turned into two and three until, like Caleb, the worries had melted right off her shoulders. She was dancing. And laughing. And then Slate was there. Handsome. She remembered he made her smile. It had been a long time since anyone had tried to charm her, and such positive attention was hard to ignore.
    Shaking those wisps of memory away, Taryn looked up at him. “You know, if you wanted to hit on pretty people, it wouldn’t bother me.”
    Confusion flitted across his face, followed by hurt and then confusion again. His brow furrowed, and his head tilted in that puppy-like way of his. “It wouldn’t?”
    Taryn wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Why would it?” She looked away from his earnest, if somewhat bleary, eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. At least, you don’t owe me that. You can do whatever you were doing before I came along.”
    “Oh.” There was a tense moment of awkward silence between them. “Okay. Yeah.”
    He seemed more perplexed than hurt. Maybe that was more the alcohol than anything else. Still, Taryn regretted the heaviness that had polluted the otherwise happy atmosphere. She hadn’t meant to bring the party down. In fact, her intention was just the opposite.
    Luckily for both of them, Dean came over then to challenge Slate to a round of pool. He found her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze, the look on his face back to the easygoing expression she was getting used to. Slate was just the kind of guy who let things slide off his back.
    Taryn turned, curious what Caleb had to say about the whole exchange. She was startled to find the booth empty.
     
     
    “I got him, Taryn. Isn’t heavy lifting off-limits?”
    Taryn snorted, readjusting her grip on the very drunk man between her and Slate. “I’m not trying to bench press him.”
    Between them, Caleb hummed, either oblivious to their conversation or not caring. His voice was a low, smooth timbre that made Taryn think he’d probably sing a beautiful bass when he wasn’t drunk off his ass.
    They got Caleb into the house, leading him like a big, sleepy child toward his bedroom.
    “I’ll get him some water and aspirin,” Taryn said.
    Slate nodded as he knelt beside the bed, working to get Caleb’s shoes untied.
    Just before she entered the room again, she heard Caleb say her name, and she stopped in her tracks in the hallway.
    “Taryn is beautiful.”
    “Um, yeah, man. I’ve noticed.” Slate sounded amused.
    “No, no. I mean like on the inside, too. She’s a good girl. I think you’re lucky.”
    “Lucky?”
    “What you have?” Caleb sounded forlorn, his voice far away. “It’s yours, you know? Taryn and the baby.”
    “Oh, well, the baby, yeah. I’m going to have a baby. Ain’t that the craziest thing?” Slate laughed, the sound a little nervous. “But the girl? I don’t know, man. I don’t think she wants me.”
    Taryn curled the cold glass of water close to her chest. Slate was right. The idea of being his wasn’t a title she wanted. He was a lovely person, and she couldn’t say she was upset, all things considered, that he was going to be her baby’s father. That being said, try as she might, she just didn’t have feelings for him.
    “What do you want?” Caleb asked.
    “I just want to be a good dad. I want to do the right thing.” Slate sighed. “I want to know how this all turns out.”
    Taryn lingered in the hallway, resting the back of her head against the wall. If there were ever a moment she wanted a crystal ball, this was it. She didn’t want Slate to end up hating her any more than he wanted her to hate him. There was a hint