Author: Cheryl McIntyre

“Maybe she thinks the same things you do.”

“She could,” I agree. “I’m not ready to find out yet, though.”

“What’s her name?”

“Emari Jessup.”

“Emari,” Lucy echoes. “I like that.”

“In general, or for the baby?”

“Both,” she says.

“All right, but I get to pick the boy’s name.” I squeeze her hip, my fingers lingering against her smooth skin.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “Because I’ve been having this feeling lately that we’re having a girl.”

“What? You can’t know that.”

“I have a feeling.”

“I guess we’ll find out next month,” I say, referring to her scheduled ultrasound.

“Unless you want to wait. We can be surprised when she’s born.” My heart beats faster with her statement. When she’s born.

I kiss the top of her head and tuck her in closer to me. When she’s born. A little girl. God, I hope she looks like Lucy. I hope she’s like her in every way.

43

Lucy

I hang up the phone and head upstairs to Bree’s apartment. It’s still so weird to think of it as her apartment without me. It’s even weirder to take the stairs instead of the fire escape, but it’s not as easy to scramble out the window now.

“Hey, baby,” Park calls when I open the door. “You coming to play?” He holds out a controller and I laugh.

“No. I just got a call from the diner. The new girl no-call-no-showed. I told them I wanted any extra shifts they could throw my way, so I’m going in.”

“All right,” he says. “Let me get my keys.”

“No, I’ll drive myself. I just wanted to let you know.” I kiss his cheek and he takes my hand, pulling me onto his lap.

“I want to go with you. I hate you working the midnight shift with all those drunks.”

“You’re not going,” I insist. “You have an early class in the morning.” He growls, but I ignore him, going on. “I worked there for months before you came along. I’m a big girl and I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. I just feel better being there.” He trails his lips down my neck and I shudder. He’s going to make me want to stay home.

Love: a feeling of deep affection, or romantic attachment.

I have the deepest affection for this man. And my attachment…is definitely romantic.

I stand up and swipe his hands away as he reaches for me. “Stop that,” I laugh. “I have to go change. I’ll be fine. Get some sleep and I’ll wake you up in an extra special way when I get home.”

“Gross,” Bree yells from the kitchen.

“I’ll bring home muffins, too,” I add loudly.

“Oh, yum,” she calls. “Blueberry.”

I grin at Park. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“`Kay. Love you.”

“I love you, Lucy,” Jessie mocks, enjoying the fact that he can finally mess with Park after all the times Park messed with him. He puckers his lips, making kissing sounds in Park’s face.

“Love you too. Both of you.”

“She doesn’t really love you,” I hear Park say as I open the front door. “She’s just being nice because you’re right here.”

“Nah. We have a secret love affair going on behind your back,” Jessie retorts. I shake my head. “She told me she loves me more, but since she’s having your baby—”

I pull the door closed and skip down the steps to change into my uniform.

***

We’ve been dead for the last forty minutes, and I’ve been craving a muffin since I told Bree I’d bring her some. So I get a glass of milk—something Park’s gotten me addicted to—and grab a strawberry muffin before sliding into a back booth.

Kimmie drops across from me, propping her feet on either side of my thighs. “I’m dragging tonight.”

“I know,” I empathize. “Me too.” I pull my phone out of my apron, checking the time. “Only two more hours and we’re free.”

“Blah. Two whole hours? I wanna be done now.” She lays her cheek on the table and closes her eyes. “Wake me up if I get a table or if Hugh wanders out of the office.”

I chuckle at that. This late, it’s a guarantee Hugh’s fast asleep at his desk. “Will do.”

The bell above the door chimes and Kimmie groans. “I’ll babysit free for life if you get this one.”

“I’ll take it,” I say, swallowing my last bite of muffin. I eye the two guys that just came in and click my tongue. “And you’re off the hook for the free babysitting.”

She raises her head. “Why?”

I nod my head toward the door and she follows my gaze. “Oh, man. They’re hot.” She lets her head fall back to the table. “Get me a number if you can.”

“For your list?”

“Mm-hm. I’m always on the lookout for the list.”

I laugh quietly as I head over to the new customers. “Hi guys,” I greet. “Just the two of you?”

“Yep,” the taller one confirms, smiling.

I grin back at him as I grab menus. “Okay. Right this way,” I say, leading them to a table in my section.

“You guys are slow tonight,” the shorter one says.

“The bar rush has come and gone. It’s nice to slow down.” I wink at him. “And that just means you get extra attention.”

He laughs. “Any attention from you will make my night.”

I smile bigger as I pull out my notepad. I’m pregnant—not dead. Flirting is part of the job. The more I flirt, the better my tips. And these guys are nice. I get their orders in and go back to the kitchen to make sure Rob, the cook on shift tonight, got the order. He likes to sit outside and smoke when we’re slow like this.

“Got it Lu,” he calls before I make it all the way back. I reverse and fill the guys’ drinks instead. And then I take a minute to refill the straws and put on a new pot of coffee.

The bell chimes again and I round the corner, glasses in hand. “I’ll be right there,” I say. The man steps in front of me, opening his jacket. Everything slows down as my eyes focus on his hand, dipping into his inside pocket. I know before I see it. I know what he’s getting and my hands start to shake. The condensation on the outside of the glasses makes them slippery and they slide out of my trembling fingers, falling to the floor. Shattered glass flies in every direction and my legs are covered in icy cold fountain drinks.

“Open the register,” he shouts as the gun appears in front of my face. “NOW.”

But I can’t move. It’s like one of those dreams I used to have where I try to run away from the monster, but my legs won’t work, so I try to scream, but nothing comes out.

But I hear Kimmie scream. My gaze is stuck to the gun, inches from my nose.

“Hey, man,” someone says. “Be cool.”

“Put your hands on the table,” he bellows. “Open the register,” he says again and I can hear desperation in his voice. That kicks me into action. I raise my hands in front of me, palms up, as I back toward the counter. If I just hurry up and give him what he wants, he’ll leave. And if I can get behind the register, I can protect my stomach.

Protect my baby.

A strangled cry erupts from my throat with the thought.

I swipe my card and tap in the code, opening the drawer. I start plucking the cash out, laying it on the counter between us. When I get all the bills, I eye the coin rolls. I don’t know if he wants them too, but I’m not about to ask. I scoop them up and lay them on top.

“That’s it,” I say, my voice shaking over the words. “That’s everything.”

“Empty your apron,” he demands. His head turns from me to the guys at the table. Back and forth quickly. The guys are watching him, their hands flat on the table. Kimmie is standing perfectly still just outside the booth she was napping in.

I reach into my apron pocket and the first thing I feel is my phone. My mind flashes to Park. To the last image of him, sitting on the couch, video game controller in his hand, smiling at me as he told me he loved me.

I’m so glad he didn’t come with me tonight. I close my eyes and exhale, moving past my phone—I need that so I can call him when this is over—to the wad of tip money. That’s all this guy wants. Just give him what he wants and he’ll leave.

I slap it down and slide sideways, trying to put more space between us. He starts shoving everything into a carry-out bag, the gun waving around with his every move. I put my hands over my belly, over the small bump.

Please just leave now. Please just go.

“You, get over here,” the man barks. “NOW.”

My head swings to Kimmie as she stumbles her way between the tables, her legs quivering so badly she can barely take a step without falling. She stops several feet away, her hands out in front of her.

“Empty your apron,” he instructs. He holds the bag open, but she has to come closer in order to put her money inside. She shakes her head, refusing to go near him. “Now, bitch,” he spits. I hear the gun click and I jump at the ominous sound.

“Kimmie,” I plead. The man swings my way, the gun shifting back to me and I flinch. “Do what he says.”

He turns back to her and I start trying to memorize what he looks like. Black jacket, blue jeans, gray baseball cap, brown hair. What color were his eyes? It doesn’t matter.

Black jacket, blue jeans, gray baseball cap, brown hair.

Kimmie finally drops the cash into the bag and ducks quickly behind the counter. She clings to me, sobbing into my neck.

Black jacket, blue jeans, gray baseball cap, brown hair.

“Come around the counter,” the man yells.

I’m shaking so badly I feel like I’m going to throw up. I have to push Kimmie to get her to move and we scuttle away from the little protection we had.

Black jacket, blue jeans, gray baseball cap, brown hair.

“Get down on the floor,” he screams.

I slide down immediately, pulling Kimmie with me. She’s crying louder now.

Black jacket, blue jeans, gray baseball cap, brown hair. I look up and note that his eyes are green.

Black jacket, blue jeans, gray baseball cap, brown hair, green eyes.

I’m still looking into his eyes when the gunshot rings out.

44

Park

I woke up for the fourth time and couldn’t fall back to sleep. The bed feels so empty without Lucy. Deciding I’ll stop in and surprise her, I take a quick shower, and make her a bagel with the fruit spread she likes.

There’s only a little over an hour left in her shift, but I’ll at least get that hour before she goes home to sleep and I have to go to school. I’ll take what I can get. I laugh at myself, getting up before the sun just to spend a few minutes with my girl. I never thought I’d see this day.

I turn the corner and the flashing lights catch my attention right away, but it takes me a moment to realize they’re coming from the diner. My foot hits the brake, jerking me to a stop in the middle of the street.

Terror seizes me with an unrelinquishing grip. I squeeze the steering wheel to keep my hands steady as I step back on the gas pedal. A small group of onlookers are gathered on the corner, and I can’t go any further, so I pull next to them. It takes two attempts to get my door open once I’ve thrown the gear into park.

“Someone was shot,” I hear someone say. I trip over the curb, catching myself at the last second.

“What’d you just say?” I choke.

“Someone was shot,” the woman says excitedly. “Some guy shot up the place. Robbery I think.”