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“No, Lilith. Please send Cindy in. Let Maynard know I’ll see him as well.”
Twenty minutes later, Lilith knocked on his door and opened it. “City Manager, Cindy Wahim to see you, sir. Is now a good time? I know how busy you are.”
Lucas could see his ever-professional City Manager, standing behind Lilith and glaring at her with the heat of a thousand suns, with one hand on her ever-burgeoning belly.
He sighed. “Yes, of course, Lilith.”
She opened the door farther but held onto the knob, forcing Cindy to sidestep her way through the door and into the room.
After closing the door, Cindy’s glare redirected toward him, which he knew had more to do with him not firing his assistant than failing to hire her replacement.
“My hormones are raging and I’m getting so largeeverywherethat my boobs could make the centerfold forNational Geographic. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She pointed to her chest. “My nipples are having a relationship with my navel. My feet are so swollen I’m wearing my grandmother’s orthopedic sandals.”
“And, I need to be made aware of your biological changes because…”
“Because, I cannot be held responsible for exacting bodily harm when it comes to that woman.” She jammed her thumb over her shoulder with surprising force.
“No need to get yourself twisted.” He pointed to the metal folding chair in front of his desk, avoiding eye contact. “Please sit down.”
But she wasn’t having it, staring at the chair and then back up at him. “What’s this?
“What do you mean? It’s a chair.”
“Seriously, right now?” She kicked one of the legs, not moving it more than an inch.
“It’s not what you think…”
“What do you think that I’m thinking, Mr. Mayor? That you replaced your priceless antique chair with this metal monstrosity so that my baby-making juices wouldn’t dare sully the one that’s worth more than a month’s salary?”
Scratching the side of his face, he said, “More like three months.”
She stared at him until he thought he noticed a foreboding vein pulsating in her neck.
Without another word, she moved to the back of the standard issue metal chair and dragged it to the side. Eyeing the priceless antique he had carefully relocated to a safe corner of the room, she latched on to one of the arms in an attempt to move it.
Nothing.
Lucas jumped out of his own chair as her shoulders slumped and her head fell between her shoulders.
Easily moving the chair back to its original place, he reached out his hand to an uncharacteristically despondent Cindy and held her arm as she sank into it.
Crouching beside her, he rubbed her back as she sniffled.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her tears.
“Why do I think this is about something other than where this musty old chair sits?”
Pulling a tissue from the box on the desk, she noisily blew her nose. “I’m not sleeping. The baby is doing interpretive dance in my uterus and Wallis is a complete asshat of a moron.”
He nodded. “Personally, I’ve never like him.”
She smiled, knowing he didn’t mean it.
He added, “Nor do I like interpretive dance. It creeps me out.”
Strong fingers latched on to his arm. “Omigod, Lucas, what if this baby becomes a world-renowned interpretive dancer?”
“Then we’ll attend every performance and clap our asses off.”
