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Ugh, that scene with the waitress and the credit card—absolutely humiliating. Julia had tried to play it off, but the flush on her neck said it all. Thank the Lord above Chelsea had her own money, and wouldn’t ever need a man financially. But then—she glanced at the phone sticking out of her purse—money wasn’t the only way a man could screw you over.
As Chelsea turned out of the lot, she threw a goodbye wave to Naomie in the car behind her, then watched until she and Madison turned off onto their respective routes. Once they were out of sight, her hand dropped to her stomach. She spoke to the car. “Call David.”
The call rang. Then again. Three times—each a stab in her heart. Back in the day he’d pick up the second she called, at least when he wasn’t home with his wife and the girls. Even then, he’d text right away.
He finally picked up. “Chelsea. Is everything okay?”
“Hi, David. Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, I’mokayokay. But I’m feeling a little strange, and I’m not quite sure what to do. I’m sorry to bug you.”
Whatever chair he was in creaked. “What do you mean, strange?”
“It’s probably totally fine but I’m having some pains. Not bad, just little stabs. Is that normal? Did that happen with your girls?”
“Not that I remember. When was the last time you felt the baby move?” he asked.
“Just a few minutes ago. That’s why I think it’s okay, just maybe like Braxton Hicks or something. I shouldn’t have bothered you, it’s just I’m never quite sure—”
“Don’t be silly.” Something rustled in the background. “Go to the ER and I’ll meet you there.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I don’t think it’s bad enough for that. But if it gets any worse I will.”
“It sounds like you’re in the car right now,” he said.
“I am, but I’m almost home. It’s okay, I think maybe I just ate something that didn’t agree with me.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being alone.” He sounded concerned, and unsure what to do. “Make sure you keep the phone right next to you in case you need to call an ambulance.”
“Okay, I will.” She pursed her brow. “I’ll ask Sienna to come over. That way somebody’s here if something happens.”
He paused for a long moment. “No, don’t do that, we don’t need her raising your blood pressure. I’ll come sleep on the couch.”
She had to push back. “No, David, it’s okay. Sienna and I can manage for short periods. I know my sister well enough to know she won’t be happy but it’s late enough she’ll just bury herself in the guest bedroom anyway.”
His voice took on a scornful edge. “If she even says yes. When was the last time you talked to her?”
“Now you’re upset. I shouldn’t have called you, but I wasn’t—”
“Of course you should have called me. It’s my responsibility to see you through this. I’m coming over now, and I don’t want to argue.” He hung up the phone.
She hit End Call on the steering wheel, and stared out into the darkness, the car silent around her, carefully navigating each stop and turn.
CHAPTERTHREE
“Aunty Jo, look at this one!”
Josette Fournier turned to where Emily and Isabelle, her nieces, waved from amid the sprawling tangles of the pumpkin patch. She burst out laughing when she saw the huge, convoluted orange monstrosity they were hovering over.
“Come look, come look, come look!” six-year-old Emily called as nine-year-old Isabelle thrust her hand on her hips.
Jo glanced up at Matt Soltero and gave a gentle they’re-so-crazy shake of her head. Matt squeezed her hand. “We have to humor them.”
“Do we though?” She laughed.
As they headed toward the girls, he snaked his arm around her. She leaned into his side, etching every bit of the moment into her memory: the cool, crisp fall air biting into her cheeks; the slashes of brown and green and orange framing the earthy smells of the dying pumpkin vines; the soft glow of the late-afternoon Saturday sun; her niece’s elfin laughter. But most of all, the warmth of Matt’s body pressing through her jacket, ensuring that whenever she thought back to this day, Matt would be an integral part of it all.
Her heart soared with appreciation for him. Handsome with dark hair and eyes, warm brown skin crinkled with wisps of middle-aged wrinkles, and a tall musculature he kept fit, he was also smart, gentle, and kind. Just about the ideal partner, yet she’d almost managed to ruin the relationship right out of the gate—when he’d moved in a few weeks back, the wounded part of her psyche had rejected the infringement on her personal and psychological space. She still battled moments of claustrophobia, but they were fading against the glimmers of security growing within her.
“See, Aunty Jo! It’s perfect!” Emily cried.
