26. Happy Birthday my sweet firefly
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SWEET FIREFLY
Knocking sounded across the door, and I pulled it open, eyeing him with suspicion. He didn’t bother to wait; he just stepped inside out of the frozen rain.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, pulling the sweater to shield from the cold that was seeping off him.
“Happy birthday,” Cole sheepishly said, looking around the house.
He handed me a gray case, and I eyed him with curiosity.
“What is this?” My feet were aching, so I walked back to the couch I’d been sleeping on, the case in my grip.
“It’s a gift, something useful this time.
What are you doing with all of this?” he gestured towards the whiteboard I had filled with information and images.
Another one of my attempts to find a lead, I always came back to the man with cufflinks.
There was no other indication that he’d be someone of importance except that he wanted me dead.
“Are you sleeping out here?” He asked, and I waved him off. I had found comfort in my blanket piled high and sat in the center of them, the case resting on my lap. He looked at the board for a moment before turning towards me. “Cufflinks?”
“Alex said a man in shiny animal cufflinks hired him to kill me. I have about a dozen pages of articles over there looking for anyone who would wear cufflinks like that but it’s a needle in a hay stack.” I motioned to the pile about four inches high on one side of the couch.
Shoving some papers off the table, I sat the case down as Cole continued to ponder my insanity board. He turned to me as the plastic popped open.
Inside was a gray and bronze pistol. I picked it up, looking it over.
It had a nice grip and an even nicer trigger.
Ejecting the magazine, I noted it carried eighteen rounds.
Looked to be a 9mm, and it was ambidextrous for shooting from either side.
I set the pistol back in its case and looked up at Cole fully.
“Figured you’d want something precise from long distances.
” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.
I groaned, getting to my feet, my back screaming its protest as I threw my arms around his neck.
There wasn’t anything I could say for the gift, or the thought put into it.
Sure, we worked guns, but this one was different; it was special.
He had to do his research to pick out a piece like that.
“Thank you, it’s lovely.” I hummed into his chest as he held me tightly. I needed to learn how to let myself be loved, and this was one of the hardest steps. I had been holding him at a distance since I learned I was pregnant, too afraid that what happened to Gabriella would happen to these two.
Looking at Cole now, I knew that wasn’t going to happen again.
I pulled away from him and shuffled around to the coffee table.
Pages I had annotated flew wildly as I shuffled for what I was looking for in the chaos I had made home.
I turned back to him, photo in my grasp, my sweater fell open to reveal my bump, and Cole groaned.
“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you pregnant?” He smiled, his eyes scoping up my body.
“No, I don’t think you have.” I blushed, forgetting the image in my hand.
“What’s that you’ve got there?”
I didn’t reply, only passing the image over to him.
He took it. His mouth almost fell to the floor in the process.
I stood there, fiddling with the hem of my sweater, waiting for the harsh words of reality to hit.
He studied the image for more than a minute, and anxiety curled around my heart in warning.
It wasn’t my fault the first time, hell, it wasn’t even my fault the second time, but a part of me wanted to share it with him.
To have a better start than we did. A do-over of sorts.
I tried to pull the image out of his hands, but he held tight and shook his head, and I dropped my hand back to my side. He turned towards the kitchen, rummaging through drawers until he pulled out a thumbtack.
Then he walked over to the wall and pinned it up.
“We may not live here for long and that’s okay, but now I have something to come back to everyday.
You and these beautiful babies.” He stared at the photo and I snaked my hand into his, staring at the blank wall except for the single ultrasound image pinned with a tack.
“I’m sorry they aren’t yours.” I said quietly.