Conversation in the Bar

The soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air as I sat across from Sarah, the soon-to-be ex-wife of my baby's father. The atmosphere in the restaurant was charged with a mix of tension and infatuation, as we navigated the complexities of our lives. Sarah and I exchanged genuine smiles, both aware of the peculiar circumstances that had brought us together but thankful for our new friendship.  
 
And then he walked in – the College Professor. Memories flooded back, like an old book being reopened. I had written about him before, an enigmatic figure in my past. Now, he stood before me, a bit older, perhaps wiser, and undeniably more handsome. I introduced him to Sarah. He extended a hand in greeting as I looked on remembering the warmth of his fingers.    
 
"You’re expecting?” he said as his eyes lingered on my tummy.  
 
“Yes. I’m twenty-one weeks along.”  
 
I paused awkwardly. Sarah finished my thought. “My ex was the father, but we’ve become friends.”  
 
“Oh,” he said as his gaze shifting between Sarah and me. I couldn't help but notice the faint trace of discomfort in his eyes, realizing that he had become a part of a story he hadn't expected.  
 
"Why don't you join us for drinks?" I suggested. The Professor agreed, and soon enough, we found ourselves filling this normally quiet bar with laughter.  
 
As the conversation unfolded, the Professor disclosed that he had recently divorced, a fact that hovered in the air like an unspoken connection between us. I told him about Joseph but didn’t share about the others I’d been with. Our conversation was a strange dance of revelations, each layer peeling back to expose the intricacies of our shared history.  
 
I noticed a hint of discomfort in Sarah’s face when I talked about morning sickness and the plans I’d made in my apartment for the child’s arrival. The Professor's eyes met Sarah's with a fleeting moment of recognition and understanding. I couldn’t help but notice there was the spark of interest in his face.  
 
I sipped my water, mindful of the little life growing within me, as the Professor and Sarah indulged in more spirited libations. The air buzzed with an odd camaraderie, a trio bound by circumstance rather than choice.  
 
In a moment of jest, I couldn't resist poking fun at the Professor, a playful glint in my eye. "You know," I teased, "I could have gotten you fired back in those college days." His response was a knowing smile, his eyes holding a depth of acknowledgment. "Yes," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia, "I knew that. But you were worth the risk."