“Woah! You’re Lightning McQuaid!” the kid exclaimed.
I laughed. “Yeah, I am. You a hockey guy?”
The boy nodded fiercely.
“Can we get a picture?” the mom asked, her face blushing bright red.
“Sure,” I said, angling near the kid for a smile. “Have a nice Thanksgiving, and good luck with hockey, kid.”
“Thank you!” he said, his voice tinged with a little awe.
The goofy smile stayed on my face as I grabbed the soup can and headed back to Ali.
But as I neared the colder section of the store, I heard a male voice snarl, “Look who came crawling back.”
I whipped around, searching for the voice, thinking someone was talking to me.
“Mark’s gonna love this,” another guy said.
A cold shiver skated down my spine, making me pick up my pace. I jogged back to the egg aisle, not caring that it jostled my arm.
As soon as I turned the corner, I spotted Ali in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by two men in flannel jackets. One was shorter with a straggly beard. The other taller one was well-built with a mustache. I immediately recognized them as Rossi’s high school buddies.
“And she’s pregnant! Ha!” the shorter one exclaimed.
“Wait ‘til your husband hears the exciting news,” the guy with the mustache snickered.
The worldhusbandechoed in my head while I rushed toward them.
One of them took out their phone and aimed it at Ali. “Smile,” he ordered.
When I finally reached them, I grabbed the phone with my left hand and smashed it on the hard ground.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” I growled.
Shock registered on his face for a split second before his eyes darted between us, then he started laughing.
My body went still, confused by his reaction.
“Your husband’s gonnareallylove this,” mustache guy said to Ali while grabbing up his buddy’s phone. “We’ll be seeing you,” he said, giving Ali a wink.
“No, you fucking won’t,” I hurled back, shifting in front of Ali.
But they just continued laughing as they walked away, making a shaky rage build up in my body. I wanted to go after them, demand them to explain themselves, but there’s no way I’d leave Ali.
Feeling completely rattled, I stayed close by Ali’s side, keeping my left hand on her back while we made our way through the store to the check out. Her knuckles bled white as she gripped the cart in front of her, like she was using it to guard herself.
We were silent as we exited the store, and I stood guard behind her as she climbed into my truck before rounding it to climb in myself.
“Ali,” I started.
“Can we just get home?” she asked in a shaky voice, her eyes darted to the mirrors in a paranoid way. Her trembling hands went to her stomach.
“Sure,” I said, but as we drove, one question clanked around in my brain. Deep down, I knew the answer without even having to ask.
As soon as she pulled in the driveway, her shoulders scrunched up and her eyes went glassy, reminding me of how she looked across the parking lot from me at Hans’ celebration of life. We’d come so far from that time, and I didn’t want her guard flying back up with me.
“Talk to me, Ali,” I said.
