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“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. My drama can wait. Go on. I’ll bring you some sodas.”

If circumstances were different, Fallon would have pushed. But Carol was right—tonight was about Marge and Dale. And Evan. Fallon noticed the tight pull around Carol’s eyes. It stemmed from the weight of helplessness that came with worry. Marge wasn’t just Carol’s friend; she was more like a big sister. And this night—waiting, hoping, fearing—must have felt impossibly heavy for Carol.

As Fallon stepped out of the kitchen, she glanced back to see Carol walking behind the bar, wiping down the counter even though it was already spotless. It was her worry tic—a small, futile motion to keep her hands busy when her heart and her mind were overwhelmed.

Fallon sighed. She’d known Carol for years, watched her shoulder burdens without complaint, and navigate chaos without faltering. She was the kind of person who always knew what others needed: a refill, a minute alone, a soft word, or a harder truth.

But tonight, Carol looked tired. Not physically, not exactly. It was something deeper. There was a quiet ache in her posture. Fallon understood why. More than Marge and the baby occupied Carol’s thoughts. It was about what remained unsaid. About theway joy and grief tangle when you’re waiting for news beyond your control. It was the burden of being the one who supports everyone else, even when you’re the one who might buckle next.

Carol had been trying to get pregnant for over a year, surrounded by the births of babies, pregnancy announcements, and celebrated milestones. This situation weighed heavily on her. Now, her closest friend was in surgery, and while everyone prayed for a positive outcome, a lingering fear of what could happen remained.

Carol had been Marge's closest friend after the loss of her son. Fallon remembered the celebration Pete threw for Marge when she had her first ultrasound. She had suffered a miscarriage the previous year and was expecting to welcome a little boy named Matthew. Unexpected devastation struck when a routine doctor’s appointment revealed that Matthew’s heart had stopped. Marge went into the hospital for induced labor and laid her baby to rest a few days later. The experience left her in deep depression. Her husband, Billy, moved out six months later, and Carol moved in. Carol had lived through that heartbreak, supporting Marge and gently helping her regain her footing. Now, Carol braced for the possibility that history might repeat itself.

On top of that, Charlie’s shop was on the verge of closure. Carol wouldn’t say it out loud, but Fallon understood how deeply ingrained her fear was—not just of loss, but of instability. Carol came from a background where money ran out before the month ended, where dreams were sacrificed for survival. She was proud and determined to avoid the financial insecurity she’d endured growing up.

Fallon could easily bail Charlie out of whatever financial hole he had fallen into. She couldn’t buy peace of mind, not for Carol. She couldn’t fix Carol’s fertility struggles or the grief she was trying to keep at bay. She would listen, and maybe that wasCarol’s point. Maybe showing up, sitting close, and staying quiet was enough.

Fallon took a breath and walked toward the back booth where Evan sat, his hands clasped tightly on the table. “Here goes nothing.”

Carol placed a plate of nachos and two sodas on the table for Fallon and Evan.

“Thanks,” Fallon said

Carol gave a playful wink and returned to the bar.

“Dave!” Owen giggled.

Dave ran toward the jukebox with Owen on his back. Riley noticed the smile on Becky’s face as she watched and gently covered her hand. As Becky’s due date approached, Riley recognized both her excitement and apprehension.

“He loves Owen,” Becky commented.

Riley glanced back at Dave as he helped Owen choose a few songs. “He’ll be a terrific dad,” Riley offered.

“He worries about it—being a good father,” Becky said. “He talks about it all the time.”

“That’s a good thing,” Riley whispered.

“Seems like Fallon is making some headway with Evan,” Billie offered.

“The nachos will help,” Carol replied. “I don’t know how that kid isn’t five hundred pounds. Every time Pete brings him here, he devours a whole plate by himself,” she added, slapping Charlie’s hand away as he reached over the bar for a new bottle of mustard. “Use your knife,” she admonished, gesturing to the bottle in front of him.

“Evan takes after his father,” Ida said. “I swear, most of this town thought I was starving my kids. I thought Jim would have to get a second job just to keep Dean fed. Fallon’s the same—eats everything without gaining a pound. They don’t get that from me.”

“What do they get from you?” Charlie asked innocently.

“Their mouths,” Carol quipped.

Ida shrugged and took a sip of her margarita.

“See? She doesn’t even deny it,” Carol said.

Andi’s gaze moved to the door as Dora Bath entered.

Ida sighed. “Excuse me,” she said, standing up.

Andi watched as Ida led Dora to a booth at the back of the pub.