Chapter 26
Savvy
A hand rests on my bare shoulder, making me jump.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” The elderly woman standing next to me says. “But I think they’re calling your order.”
“Sarah!” The barista shouts out, tapping her manicured fingernails on the lid of my iced-caramel latte.
“Oh. Yes, thank you.” I push on a smile and quickly grab my coffee. After doing a quick check of the people outside, I head out of the corner coffee shop and into the warm southern sun.
I check my phone for the time and realize I’m going to be late for work if I don’t hurry up. Normally, I wouldn’t have wasted time stopping for coffee, but it’s going to be a long shift at the bookshop and sleep hasn’t been my best friend this last month.
At first every sound in the night woke me up. The neighbor taking out his trash, or a dog barking from blocks away. Every noise seemed to echo in my mind. But it’s been four weeks, and no sign of Gabriel or any of his men.
I should be able to relax. Except I can’t. And it has less and less to do with being afraid that he’s going to show up, and more about how much he’s infested my thoughts.
“Hey, Sarah.” Billy, the morning clerk, waves as I enter the small book boutique where I’ve taken a part-time job. “Lilly is in the back. We got a shipment in, so she’s probably going to have you doing inventory and stocking today.”
“Okay.” I take a sip of my latte. There isn’t enough caffeine in the world to keep me awake today, but I have an eight-hour shift to get through, so I get into gear.
Lilly, the shop owner, set me up in the back room with a computer and scanner to get the inventory checked in before I shelve the newest release in a serial killer series. It takes me an hour to get them all scanned, and then I move out to the thriller section to make room for the new books.
Somewhere between moving books around Cassie has sent three text messages.
Settled in yet?
Are you safe?
Why aren’t you answering me?
I quickly type back a response.
Sorry. At work. I’m fine.
Three dots dance then—
Still no sign of your mobster?
I roll my eyes.
He’s not my anything. And no.
She’s quick with her response.
I think he has someone watching my apartment.
The man has no boundaries. He doesn’t want me, he’s made that clear, but he can’t stand to lose. The only reason he’d keep looking for me is to prove he can find me anywhere. It’s an ego thing.
No one’s watching your apartment. He’ll give up soon.
Babe, he’s not going to give up. When he called, he wasn’t mad; he was panicked.
Yeah, worried he’d look bad to his goons.
Even as I type it, my chest tightens. It didn’t feel that way. Not the last night we were together, not at the dinner. Not for a while. He’d been softer, kinder. Safer.
I’d felt safe.
And that’s what messed me up. That’s how I missed the signs. I’d let myself believe there was a chance—small, but still a shot that I could actually make a life with him. I fell for the fantasy.
I’d been an absolute idiot.
Call me when you get home from work.
Cassie’s last text comes through, and as I read it, my stomach pitches, and my head spins. I have to lean against the bookshelves to keep from falling onto my ass.
“Sarah, you good?” Billy asks from his spot behind the cash register.
I touch my forehead. “Yeah. Too much sugar, I think.” Maybe the extra-large latte was the wrong way to go this morning.
The nausea rolls away as quickly as it came on, and I get back to work, finishing up the stock and taking over for Billy while he goes to lunch.
“You want me to grab something for you while I’m out? I’m hitting up the new burger joint across the street.”
“Do they have chicken sandwiches? I could go for a grilled chicken.”
He makes a face. “I’m sure they do, but they’re supposed to have killer burgers.”
“I’m really not in the mood for a burger.” My stomach hasn’t rebelled since earlier today, but there’s still a lingering queasiness that threatens to go full-blown war at the slightest wrong decision.
I dig into my purse for my wallet but can’t find it. Panicked, I start pulling everything out.
“What’s wrong?” He leans over the counter.
“My wallet. I can’t find it.”
“Did you leave it at home?”
“No. I used it when I grabbed my coffee this morning.” I sink back onto my heels. “I must have left it there.”
“No problem, my treat.” He knocks on the counter with his knuckles like he does every time he leaves. It’s like some sort of ritual for him.
“Thanks, Billy. I’ll buy next time.”
He nods with a smile then heads out, leaving me alone in the store. I busy myself with restocking pens and bookmarks at the register counter. Then a few customers come in, and I help them with their purchases. It’s nearly an hour before Billy comes back with my sandwich.
“I’ll put your sandwich in back.” He disappears into the back.
The rest of the day drags. When my shift is over, I head back to my studio apartment over a pizzeria with throbbing feet and a rolling stomach.
As I cross an intersection, a thought hits me that stops me dead. A car horn blasts as it screeches to a stop.
“Get out of the road!” the driver bellows from his window.
I wave him off as I hurry across the crosswalk, counting calendar days in my head.
The rest of the way home is a blurred sprint. I run up the wobbly wooden stairs and shove through the door. After grabbing the spare cash I keep stashed in the book on my nightstand, I dash to the store.
My heart sits in my throat all the way home from the corner store. I’m near to hyperventilating as I buy what I need, hustle back, and pee on the stick. Whatever the normal blood pressure reading is, I’m sure mine is double as I stare at the tiny screen, waiting.
And then there’s calm.
My skin tingles.
The storm raging in my mind only a moment before settles into a rhythmic humming.
I pick up the stick and sit on the floor, staring at the single digital word.
Pregnant.