Freesia’s POV
The loose clothes were doing their job.
I figured that out early on–baggy shirts, oversized jackets, aprons tied at the waist–all effective in hiding my pregnancy. The patrons at the bar rarely paid much attention to my midsection, anyway.
Most nights passed without incident. A few rowdy customers would make rude comments about my figure, but I quickly learned just to smile and serve them promptly.
Tonight, though, wouldn’t pass so smoothly.
The man was visibly intoxicated and loud from the moment he walked through the door. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with shaggy brown hair and an overgrown beard. He sat at a table alone and barked at me to bring him a drink from across the room.
“One moment, sir.” I flashed the sincerest smile I could muster and brought him
