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She looked shocked enough to see me that I didn’t think she actually believed I was really there for a second. Then her mouth dropped open.
“Son of a bitch,” she said. “Do you have a tracking device on me?”
Her unbreakable spirit made me laugh, and I eyed her stomach meaningfully. “Something like that.”
She smiled tremulously, and I reached over and took her hand. Her eyes welled up, and we sat silently until the server came over to see if I wanted anything a few moments later.
“I’m ready to order something else,” Theresa said. “I’ll have the ice cream sundae and fries,”
I raised an eyebrow and asked if there was anything like grilled chicken or a salad.
“We’ve got a nice grilled chicken salad,” the server offered.
“Perfect,” I said, still eyeing Theresa.
“You can stop being judgmental,” she said when the server left. “The only thing I can keep down is junk food so just shut up about it.”
I held up my hands. “When did I say anything?”
“Your face said it all.”
“Well then, I apologize for my face.”
She snickered, then her shoulders slumped. “I’ve got a lot going on.”
“Tell me all of it, little one,” I urged.
“Can you keep your judgy face in order?”
I burst out laughing, then stopped since she was so miserable. I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “I promise I’ll never judge you.”
Just like that, it all spilled out of her. The food came during the terrible tale of her mother and her fiancé, and she barely paused to gobble down her ice cream and greasy fries. She kept trying to downplay it, while clearly sickened by their behavior.
“You have every right to be so angry. What she did was unforgivable.” I held out a bite of chicken and popped it between her lips. She chewed it with a grimace. “Just a couple bites for the baby.”
She nodded to my salad, and I held up another, bigger bite this time. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her,” she said. “Is that awful?”
“Your mother slept with your fiancé,” I said. “It probably wasn’t the first time.”
She gagged, but soon after shoveled in another spoon of ice cream. “I don’t care about him, just so you know.”
“I know,” I assured her. “My mother died when I was very young, but I still know enough about them that they do not do things like that.”
“It’s foul, right?” she asked desperately. “I’m not overreacting because of hormones or whatever?”
“It’s wretched, degenerate. And even if it was hormones, who cares. You can feel how you feel.”
She looked at me so gratefully, all I wanted to do was kiss her. And never stop kissing her. I offered another bite of chicken. “For the baby. He needs more than just ice cream, you know.”
She took it, her brows rising. “He? I’m pretty sure it’s a girl.”
“How can you know that?”
She shrugged. “Do you care either way?”
“I do not,” I told her. “But I feel strongly that it’s a boy. We’ll name him Constantin.”
“Pfft. He’ll get teased and called Connie.”
