“Right. Our child is going to be perfectly fine.”
“Why?”
“Because unconventional as we might be, we love each other. No matter what happens, we’re loyal and faithful. And that child will be so, so loved.”
She swipes at her eyes and nods her head.
“Thank you.”
She doesn’t seem convinced, though, and I don’t know why. I spoke the truth to her. I told her what’s on my mind and in my heart and how I feel. And in turn, she seems more distant. Cold, even.
Why?
Is she battling a struggle all her own she hasn’t shared with me?
I imagine she’s battlinglotsof things she hasn’t shared with me.
I watch Cosette’s shoulders rise while she takes in a breath. We’re almost back.
“Lyam.” Cosette’s voice trembles when she looks at me. I don’t know if she’s afraid or concerned or what, but I want to get her back to safety and privacy.
I reach my hand out and place it on her knee. She calms when I touch her, and I want her to know she’s okay. “Yeah?”
We’re in the heart of the city now. Traffic thickens and the city sounds around us tell us we’re not alone.
“I want to talk to you,” she says, resting her hand on top of mine. “There are some things —”
I slam on my brakes when a car in front of us comes to a sudden halt. “Of all the fucking?—"
Cosette suddenly gasps and holds her belly, both hands spanning her slender waist. When she gives a cry of pain, my heart leaps into my chest. We’re fully stopped behind a line of traffic.
“What is it?”
“I—oh God, Lyam.” Her face blanches and her eyes are so wide she’s scaring me. “I—there’s some pain.” When she looks down, she panics. “I feel like… I think I’m bleeding. Oh my God, get me to a restroom. Please!”
We’re only a block away from the pastry shop. I lean on the horn to make the cars in front of me move, but they won’t. We’re jammed in between a truck and a motorcycle, and I can’t get them to move.
“Get out of my way!” I bellow at anyone and everyone. “It’s an emergency!”
A few cars inch away, but most just stand stock-still.
I slam the car into Park. Whip off my jacket, revealing my ink, and stalk toward the car blocking us.
“Lyam!” Cosette’s crying now.
I turn to face her. “I’ve got this, baby. Breathe, Cosette.”
I reach the car in front of me.
“Listen, buddy,” the driver says as he turns to face me, cracking his window a fraction. He’s bald and about fifty, and looks like he wants to punch me. I fucking dare him. “We all wanna fucking move. If you think you’re special, fucking think again.”
“Roll down your window.”
He stares at me and snorts. “I don’t think so.”
I lean in and brace my forearms on the doorframe at the base of the window, the tat of my snake clearly visible. His eyes widen when they come to rest on it. I have a reputation in these parts and I’m not afraid to use it.
“Roll down your window,” I repeat in a voice just above a whisper as I take out my favorite gun, “or I’ll shoot it open. It gets messy, then, doesn’t it? I might accidentally hityou,or your buddy, then you’ve got a fucking broken window.”
