2. Abi
CHAPTER TWO
abi
Christmas songs floated from overhead as I walked with Hayat through the mall. She had Amala on her hip, keeping her steps slow and steady to match my pace. Waddling around with a heavy pregnant belly was not fun, but I had a few last-minute Christmas presents I needed to pick up from the store.
Vaughn and Sammy both made it nearly impossible to gift shop for them, with how they were constantly monitoring me. Cough, stalking, cough. I’d had to find more inventive ways to surprise them with their Christmas presents each year. Online shopping wasn’t an option when my husband was the number one hacker in the world. Sneaking off for a few hours to shop on my own wasn’t a choice either.
This year, I’d asked Hayat to order my sister-in-law’s and Vaughn’s presents. Since her guys gossiped to Elias like grandmas in a quilting circle, and we didn’t trust him not to tell his wife about her Christmas present, Hayat had everything shipped directly to the mall. It was an exhausting hour drive from my house, made even longer because I had to pee every fifteen minutes.
Sneaking out of my own home was a challenge of its own with all the high-tech security Vaughn had installed, not only inside the house, but around the entire property. That included Sammy’s cottage next door and the mega-mansion on the other side. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had all of Creswell Springs wired for surveillance.
My husband was a little obsessed with my safety.
And, admittedly, Vaughn was just as delulu as his psychotic younger sister. But fuck if I didn’t love that about them both.
“Can I have a cookie, Mommy?” Amala asked as we passed the food court on the second floor. Of course the store I needed to go to required us to walk by all those delicious temptations.
A painful kick hit my ribs, the baby obviously seconding her sister’s sweet plea. Rubbing my hand over my enormous belly, I glanced at the long line of people already waiting to order.
“After we pick up Tetka ’s and Papa’s Christmas presents,” I promised.
Hayat readjusted Amala as we passed a small group of loud teens, shifting her so that my little mini-me was between us on her hip. It was a natural move, carried out smoothly without giving the annoying kids a second look.
Entering the store, we found the customer service desk—all the way at the back of the freaking shop—and Hayat pulled up the virtual receipt for the manager to scan.
“We have everything ready to go for you, Ms. Cutter. Just give me one moment to grab those.”
As the woman disappeared through a service door, Hayat placed Amala on her feet. “You have to walk now, Mini. I need to carry the presents since they are so heavy. Promise to hold Mommy’s hand nice and tight until we get back to the car, and I’ll buy you an extra cookie for later.”
“Can we get one for Tetka too?” Amala asked hopefully.
Hayat grinned, making her dimples pop. “Absolutely. We can’t leave her out.”
Even with a hundred people shopping around us, the manager was efficient. We were out of there in a few minutes, but the long line for cookies hadn’t gotten any shorter during that time.
I almost whined at the scent of cookie dough in the air, my mouth watering. But I needed to pee. And so did Amala. She started bouncing from one foot to the other, her eyes shooting from the bathroom’s sign to the display counter where all that deliciousness was waiting for us.
Hayat shifted the two big bags, so she was holding both in one hand. “You two go potty. I will get the cookies. Any special requests?”
“I want one with frosting. The biggest one, bestie.”
“You got it, Mini. Abi?”
Licking my lips, I glanced at the display of treats on offer. There were way too many options for me to choose. “Surprise me.”
The line in the ladies’ room was even longer than the one for cookies. Amala held my hand as we waited, her eyes traveling over all the other women already in front of us. Swallowing a groan, I pulled out my phone. I’d turned off the ringer because I’d wanted to spend the drive catching up with Hayat. We spoke every day and did a video call at least once a week. But we always had something to talk about.
Five missed texts greeted me, and I couldn’t help smiling at the sight of the messages from Vaughn and Sammy.
I hit the connection on my sister-in-law’s name, and it barely rang before she was answering. “Where are you?” Sammy demanded, an edge to her tone.
There was only one reason for her to be all grumbly.
“Anya must have arrived,” I concluded, watching as Amala hummed along with the Christmas carol playing through the audio system. Still holding my hand, she swung our arms playfully back and forth, doing a little twirl. All that energy. All that happiness.
“ Babushka ?” Amala asked hopefully, doing another twirl. “Yay!”
“Where are you?” Sammy asked again.
“The mall. Do you need specifics, or can you see that on your tracker app that Vaughn shared with you? Oh, wait. Maybe you have your own. Where is the little microchip thingy? My shoe? It’s totally in my shoe, isn’t it?” Her lack of response made me snicker. “At the moment, I’m standing in an unending line for the bathroom with Amala. Hayat is getting cookies. Do you have any last-minute gifts you would like us to pick up while we’re here?”
“You should have waited for someone to go with you,” she grumbled.
“Someone is with me. Hayat drove because my belly is too big for me to fit behind the steering wheel. Besides, I was picking up your present that I had customized. You would have snooped and ruined the surprise. How long has your mom been there?”
“Seventy-eight minutes. Are you staying vigilant?”
I glanced around the crowded bathroom, thankful the line was moving at a reasonable pace. I wasn’t the only pregnant woman in line. The three others looked like they had been fighting a war they weren’t confident about winning. Flushed, sweaty faces. Wild eyes. Disheveled hair. Clutching their bags as they waddled to the stalls, the sink, then slowly out the door. One had walked past us, then gotten in line again, muttering under her breath about the ridiculously small size of her bladder—and painfully large-headed babies.
“I’m aware of my surroundings,” I assured Sammy, paying attention to Amala as she insisted I watch her do another step to the dance Hayat had been teaching her whenever we had a video call. Giving her an indulgent smile, I kept up the conversation with Sammy. “After we get cookies, we’ll be on our way home. Are you sure you don’t need anything while we are here?”
“I finished my shopping weeks ago, but thanks for offering. Be careful on your drive back. See you soon.” She paused then gritted out, “You better stay vigilant, Abs.”
“Okay,” I soothed, knowing her crazy was already too close to being triggered with her mom around. “Love you.”
Five minutes later, we left the bathroom, and I waddled back out to the food court, holding on to Amala’s hand. In the time we had been gone, the line had doubled in size, but I didn’t see Hayat. With her hair and height, she was easy to spot in a crowd. But as I paused to glance at the tables, I couldn’t find her.
Instead of spending time searching for her, I called her phone. It immediately went to voice mail. Frowning, I pulled up the Find My app. Vaughn and Sammy might have high-tech equipment at their disposal, but I had my own ways of tracking the people I loved.
A little dot appeared on the screen when I clicked to ping Hayat’s phone, and I urged Amala to stay on my side away from the majority of the crowd as we walked around the outer circle of the tables. When I passed a trash can, I thought I heard the distinctive ding and froze.
Unease slithered down my spine, but I shook off the worst-case scenarios that floated through my mind. My gaze zipped around, and I fought the rush of fear that made my belly cramp when I didn’t see Hayat’s wild curls.
“Bestie?” Amala called out, turning her head back and forth in search of Hayat. “Where are you, bestie?”
The pinging from the trash can was still going off. Crossing to it, I pushed the flap back and peeked inside. Half-eaten sandwiches, wrappers, and messy ketchup packets were on top, but I could see the glow of a light. That annoying ping was still going strong.
“Ew. Gross. Mommy, you’re going to have to wash your hands again.”
Heart in my throat, I opened the door of the cabinet containing the trash can and dragged out the heavy bin. With each piece of trash I threw out in my rush to find the phone, I prayed.
It wasn’t her phone. She was fine. There was another explanation. Hayat was okay. She just went to the car.
“Mommy?”
I couldn’t look at Amala. Not even with that trace of fear in her voice. All I could see was the trash. Panic tried to choke me.
Hayat was okay.
“Mommy?”
She was okay.
“ Mommy? ”
She had to be okay.
“Mommy!”
All around me, people stopped to gape at me like I was insane.
When my fingers touched the phone, I whimpered. My vision went dim, the baby kicking so hard it stole my breath as a contraction tore through me.
Ah, fuck. No. Stay calm. You cannot panic, Abi. You are not in labor. Your best friend is fine. Everything is fucking fine.
Lifting the phone out of the trash, along with the two bags full of presents, I silenced the noisy thing. Even if, for whatever reason, Hayat had thrown away her phone, she wouldn’t have trashed the gifts for Vaughn and Sammy.
Another kick.
Another painful, twisted contraction that made it impossible to breathe.
“Mommy, you’re scaring me.” Amala’s voice wobbled, and I didn’t even notice that she’d switched from English to Russian. I was so familiar with the brutal, beautiful language now that I could understand and speak it somewhat fluently. And those words, in that sweet, little-girl voice that I loved more than life itself, unraveled me.
Everything inside me screamed to pick up my daughter. To hold her close. Soothe her. Erase any fear from her voice. She was my brave, sweet girl. She should never experience fear.
But she was, and I couldn’t comfort her because it took all my strength not to have the freak-out of all freak-outs right in front of her and three hundred strangers.
This wasn’t happening. I felt like I was in a bad dream. Time seemed to hit pause, everyone around me suddenly moving in slow motion.
“Hayat!” I shouted her name, my terrified gaze flickering over the many, many people gathered in the food court. “Hayat!”
“Ma’am.” A security guard stepped up to me hesitantly. Apparently I’d caught the attention of most of the other shoppers seated nearby when I’d started digging through the trash like an insane person. “You’re causing a disturbance. We need you to calm down.”
My breathing was ragged as I continued to glance around frantically, ignoring the guard and his partner, who stepped closer to me, his gaze on Amala. Another contraction hit me, intense and unexpected.
No.
Going into labor wasn’t an option. Not without Hayat.
How the fuck was I supposed to calm down?
My best friend was missing.
“Hayat!”