We have memories to make.
Snapping pictures of Lucky as he sits on Santa’s lap is a nice distraction, but as soon as we exit back into the cool night air, my paranoia reaches unimaginable heights.
I keep my head on a swivel, looking for patches or cuts or even familiar faces. I see none of those three things, but I can’t shake the pit in my stomach. It’s the same feeling that I always try to listen to because the last time I ignored it, I got myself in deep shit.
“Mommy,” Lucky says, tugging on the bottom of my jacket. “Pick me up.” His other hand rubs at his eyes, and I know what that means.
Bending down, I heft him onto my hip. He rests his head on my shoulder, and that alone tells me he’s about done for.
I kiss his temple, rocking back and forth. It’ll be hell if he falls asleep before I get him in his car seat, but it’s instinctual to sway like I did when he was a baby. It’s so infrequent now that he lets me hold him for a snuggle, so I soak it up whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Lacey glances around, checking out the nearby stands, and I’m in a pickle.
My teeth dig into my lower lip.
I’m the one who invited her out. Leaving early isn’t the kind of thing a good friend should do, but I have to call it.
I didn’t bother bringing Lucky’s stroller. The whole idea was that I wanted him to run around and wear himself out. He’s at the stage where he’s either going to get fussy and have a tantrum or fall asleep. Neither option points to a high likelihood of being able to shop and have fun with Lacey.
Now I feel like a shitty person.
She doesn’t have kids. She can’t understand what it’s like to have her activities guided by what kind of mood her child is in.
My phone chimes with what must be a series of social media notifications, but I pull the device out of my purse, pretending to blanch. “Crap, that’s my landlady.”
I step a few feet away, answering the nonexistent call.
My stomach wobbles, and I wonder if I’m making the right choice. No matter how much I wanted to enjoy it, coming out tonight wasn’t a good plan.
Anyone watching my eyes dart around as I fake a conversation with my landlord would probably think I’m on drugs or having a break with reality. Even knowing that, I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m being watched.
Lacey is too distracted waving and smiling at Lucky to pay me much attention, and it makes me feel even more rotten.
I make up a bullshit excuse about having a water leak in my bathroom and ask if she’d like me to drop her off on my way home.
“I’m going to peek at a few of the trinket shops and maybe grab a decaf coffee,” she says, shaking her head.
We chat for another few minutes while I repeatedly try to get her to let me take her home, but Lacey is firm in wanting to stay and shop.
I’m not sure how her head isn’t stuck on the guys she ran into earlier. Maybe that speaks to how trauma can influence a person’s life, even years later.
The world can be an ugly place.
Humanity has bright spots, but it also has monsters that parade around in human skin. Still, I’m not trying to traumatize the poor woman, and she’s an adult. It’s not like I can toss her over my shoulder and force her to leave.
Eventually, I say a reluctant goodbye and bolt toward the parking lot where I left my SUV.
My breath fogs the cool night air as I exhale heavily, picking up my pace. Lucky is asleep, and I do my best not to jostle him, but getting to my SUV is my top priority. Listening to him whine if I wake him up won’t be fun, but it’s better than the alternative.
“Charlotte?” a man’s voice calls out from a few feet to my right.
My feet leave the ground as I jump. Spinning around, I scan the area. Cormac, the guy from the library, strides closer. While I was heading straight to get to the parking lot, he approaches from the sidewalk that runs parallel to the front of the building.
He’s dressed fancier than the times I’ve seen him in the library, and my head tilts. He’s wearing a suit, at least the pants, vest, and tie, but over all of that, he has on a calf-length overcoat.
He looks damn good in the vest and tie, but my mind starts racing. Peeking over my shoulder, I check to see if I’m being followed.
There are a few people headed my way. One set is a couple, leaning close together as they walk. Another is a family with two small kids.
