Her hand crept into mine. “It was,” she murmured. “And it’s easy enough to do. Let them suffer the pain of not getting their revenge. But I won’t run, Brody. I’ll finish this.”
“And so will I.”
In loving harmony, hand in hand, we sat together as the late morning waned into afternoon. While I needed to get back to work, I couldn’t be bothered.If I lose my job, I’ll find another. Lindsey is more important.Nor did she seem to worry about her unfinished work. I yawned, scratched an itch on my chest, and rested my head on her shoulder.
“We should talk baby names.”
Lindsey snorted. “Youdon’tknow that I’m pregnant.”
“I know you are.”
I caressed her flat belly. “Inside here is our little one. Our firstborn. A boy or a girl?”
“I’m not pregnant. It wasn’t my time of the month.”
“We’ll start a college savings account,” I mused. “Once we get stable jobs again. Set aside a little every week, make sure our kids get a good education. Like we did.”
“I’m not ready to have a kid, dude.”
I settled my head against her more comfortably and sighed. “If you work from home, you can look after the kid. Once I get off work, I’ll do my part. Right? We may have to get help from our folks, ask them to babysit once in a while. I know mine will want to be involved.”
“Did you hurt yourself?” Lindsey inquired. “Jumping to the conclusion that I’m with child?”
“No jumping involved, baby. You’re preggers. Just relax and let Papa take care of you.”
“You’re delusional.”
“I’m right. Big difference.”
Lindsey sucked in a deep breath. “It’s too soon.”
I craned my neck to meet her eyes. “Do you love me?”
“You know I do.”
“And I love you. So it’s not too soon.”
***
A couple of days later, the doorbell rang as Lindsey and I shared cooking and kitchen duties. Lindsey instantly seized a gun from a drawer, then slid the bolt back. We exchanged a long look before I commented, “I doubt it’s a bad guy. I don’t think they’d ring the bell.”
“Wouldn’t that be an easy way to pop a cap in our heads?” she inquired. “We innocently open the door, then bam?”
“And if it’s the Girl Scouts selling cookies I want some.”
With Lindsey and her gun at my back, I reached the door to peer through the lens just as the bell rang again. And gaped.
“There’s some itty bitty woman out there,” I said, unlocking the door, glancing at Lindsey over my shoulder.
“Oh, crap.” She hastily tucked the gun in her waist band and covered it with her shirt. “Shirley Gibbons. Does she have a cake?”
I swung open the door. “Hi.”
Shirley, every inch of five foot with a wizened face and sharp beady eyes, appraised me just as I appraised her. She took in my sutures I hadn’t yet gotten pulled, and no doubt reassessed the notion that I’m a drug dealer and murderer. “You must be Brody.”
“Uh, yeah. Want to come in?”
I barely got the words out when she marched under my arm and into the house. Lindsey pasted a welcoming smile on her face, yet her concern at the home invasion stood out clearly. I absently recalled her inflammatory words to Lindsey about me, half-thinking I should retract my invitation to enter.Too late.
