We finish up after closing time, and I transfer the little Dachshund to the emergency clinic where she can be kept under observation for the rest of the weekend. By the time I get home, it’s after two p.m., and I need a shower.
And that’s where it happens.
The prick.
No, not that kind of prick.
The one that feels like an acupuncture needle deep down inside me.
I felt it before. The last time. Except that was on the right side, and this one is definitely the left. I go completely still under the shower spray with the certain knowledge that within the confines of my body… it’s not just me.
It’sus.Me and baby.
And not just any baby. Not even just my baby. But ours. Mine and Luc’s.
It’s as though the water rushing over me is a benediction. A blessing the angels have poured over me.
And whether Luc wants me or not. Or whether he wantsusor not, this baby—this blessing a thousand times over—is wanted and loved. Already.
And if we have to go it alone, so be it.
Chapter Thirty
LUC
Millie won’t talkto me. Not really.
I know she’s upset. She’s been upset since I told her about the condom. She’s keeping me at arm’s length, and I’ll be damned if she isn’t finding ways to have the kids around when we’re together.
But, as usual, she insists that she’sfine.
Whoever thought that someone could grow to hate that four-letter word? I know she’s not fine because I keep catching her watching me.
And it’s not the way she used to watch me. Back before I kissed her. She watched me then like she couldn’t help herself. The same way I couldn’t help watching her.
Now, it’s like she’s on the lookout for sudden moves. And maybe I’m doing the same. Waiting to see if she’ll bolt.
I dare her to try. I’m not letting her go anywhere.
It’s Sunday night, and for once this week, there’s not a game or a homework project or a recital. And I might just strangle my mother.
My plan was to pay the kids to babysit themselves again. Millie and I haven’t even been on a real date. She deserves one, and I want to give it to her.
But Mami called Millie an hour after she got home from work yesterday. She wants us to come over for Sunday Supper. Fried catfish tacos and churros with chocolate sauce. And Millie and her crew are suckers for anything homemade.
I can’t really blame them. The Delacroixes have been eating takeout for weeks.
Maybe that’s what I should do for a first date—if ever I get to take her on one—make her a home-cooked meal. At my apartment. I wonder how much I’d have to pay the kids to keep Millie overnight.
And if she’d ever agree to that.
Right now, I’d take having her spend just a few minutes alone with me. Even under the same roof with the kids. Just ten minutes so I could kiss her deep. Remind her what we have.
Okay, maybe twenty minutes.
Maybe I can steal her away from the crowd at my parents’ house tonight. If Papi and Uncle Raul haven’t commandeered the den for a game of pool, that would be a great spot. Just a few minutes to wrap her in my arms and chase her tongue with mine, show her that she is safe with me. Show her that I want her. Tell her again that I love her.
I pick up the Delacroixes at five-thirty. The twins vibrate with excitement. Emmett is practically levitating.
