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Which also means I can’t call Cami because Nathan would force her to drag him along. Scratch that, he’d hijack a damn rig and leave her in the dust.
I look down at the dashboard in search of obvious lights to give me a hint of the problem for when I call the tow truck. When I see it, I groan out loud and jerk my head back against the seat.
Why am I such an idiot? Is this what they mean by pregnancy brain? What intelligent human who’s owned and operated a car for over twenty years forgets to fill the gas tank?
I imagine a big neon flashing arrow appearing over my head.
It’s me. I’m that stupid. And since I’m already pissy, I’m going to go right ahead and just blame that one on Nathan too, because if he hadn’t distracted me last night with our argument, that led into a crappy night’s sleep and a crappy-ass morning, this wouldn’t have happened.
The blame game makes me feel marginally better.
On a sigh only God and myself witness, I gather my purse and keys, lock the doors, and stomp down the highway. One mile won’t hurt. I’m pregnant, not bedbound. For added safety, I click on my phone flashlight and aim it behind me out of my purse to act as a flasher of sorts—not that I expect anyone to drive by in this sleepy little town at this hour.
A half-mile trek with nothing but silence and my own thoughts is all it takes for the first trickle of tears to hit. They stem from frustration and fear, anxiety about the future of Nathan and me, and a slight cramp in my abdomen. But mostly from the fact I’m toasty warm in this stupid, beautiful coat Nathan had a hand in me getting. If it weren’t for his thoughtfulness, I’d be wearing a cardigan and still stubborn enough to walk the rest of the way.
The irritation over our argument from last night melts away with each chilly step toward work until it’s merely a low hum in the background. I shouldn’t have thrown him out, even if I tell myself he didn’t put up much of a fight. I was a bitch, but my reasons felt justified at the time. And they still do, to some degree. He treats me like a flower, and for such a strong, capable man, it takes me by surprise that he doesn’t see me the same way. I don’t remember him ever giving Cami so much grief about being a single mom over the years. In fact, she was always praised for her tenacity and independence.
Is it so different because he’s the father of my child?
I know the answer to that question is more than likely, yes.
He also fears for the baby and my safety. Not that he admits it. After what he went through with Janessa, what person wouldn’t want to avoid another loss at all cost?
The question is, what next? Brushing aside last night isn’t the answer because it still pisses me off when I think about how it played out. Though it wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance to explain himself without biting his damn head off.
A few rogue flurries kiss my wind-sore cheeks as the station comes into view in the distance. Another cramp bites into the lower part of my abdomen. I know I haven’t been practicing pregnancy yoga or water exercises or even taking long walks, considering its winter, but am I so out of shape that a small mile trek causes discomfort? I’m going to have to convince Cami to walk the halls of the local high school with me because being this winded is embarrassing.
Through the illuminated glass doors at the front of the building, Nathan leans against Brooke’s receptionist desk, a furrowed brow in place. Cami stands behind him. Her vicious expression makes me snort, and I’m doubled over at the sight of her arms crossed and foot tapping away.
These two are quite a welcoming committee.
The doors glide open at my approach, and I step inside, savoring the blast of warm air on my face. It feels as though I just stepped off a long, air-conditioned flight to the hot, humid Caribbean. If only I were on a beach right now. I’d trade in this heavy coat for a bikini any day.
Nathan turns his furrowed brow at me and pushes away from the desk with three long strides in my direction. Cami, not one afraid of going to bat for someone she cares about, uses her short legs to speed walk around him and nudges him aside with her shoulder.
“Are you all right?” she asks, trading her brutal mask for a softer one.
“Where’s your car?” Nathan butts in with a question of his own before I have a chance to answer the first. That would explain the wrinkle-inducing expression locked on his face. He must have monitored the parking lot and noticed the lack of headlights.
“I—”
A sudden gush of wetness soaks my underwear. Oh my god, I think it finally happened. I think I just peed myself on accident. That damn baby book warned me about this in the pages I read before I swore it off for good, and it has to happen to me at work? I drop my purse and keys on the floor, mumble, “Shit,” and take off in a fast-paced waddle toward the public restroom behind reception.
“Kiersten!” Cami takes off after me, catching up easily, and Nathan’s footsteps thunder behind us. She beats me to the restroom, thrusts the door open so I can duck inside, then blocks Nathan’s intrusive entry.
“Dammit, Cami, out of my way!” The panic in his voice hits my ears and stops my trajectory to the stall. No, no, no. I can’t worry about him right now. I have my own impending disaster to attend to.
Even so, his distress pulls me like a tether cord.
“I’ll check and let you know.” Cami’s declaration holds a curt bite. She must really be pissed on my behalf. A little louder, she calls, “Kiersten?”
I shuck my coat and toss it over the door to the stall. Now that I’m indoors, the cold is gone, and I swelter beneath the padded fabric.
“One sec.”
“What’s going on? What sent you running?”
“I think … I think I peed myself.” My mortified whisper carries just enough for her to hear me; hopefully not far enough to reach Nathan’s prying ears.
