“What do you think I’m going to do exactly? I will literally be five feet from you. I promise not to make a break for it.”
“It’s not that, Isabelle. I have enemies.”
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me to be honest—”
“You have enemies too.”
That makes me stop. Makes something inside me go cold. I think about the night of the break in. About Christian surprising the intruder, dragging him off me. About Christian getting himself killed when he told me to run.
The anniversary is coming. It’s just around the corner. I hate this time of year.
But I shake my head. Clear the thought. That man is in prison. He was caught and tried and convicted. He can’t hurt me or anyone else.
I open my mouth to tell him he’s wrong, but he leans toward me. “Now that you’re pregnant, you’re even more of a threat to your brother and cousin than you were before.”
“I’m not a threat to them. They’re my family. It’s not—”
“I don’t want you hurt, Isabelle.”
I don’t want you hurt.
I blink, confused by those words. The tenderness in them.
But no, I need to keep a clear head. Jericho St. James has one goal in mind. Bring my brother down no matter the cost. He doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t want me hurt because I am growing something of his inside me. That’s it. I shouldn’t be fooled. Shouldn’t let myself think up a false reality.
“I’m not a threat. A baby isn’t a threat.”
“Not to someone like you maybe but—”
“Someone like me? What does that mean?”
“You’re not devious, Isabelle. But you’re the exception.”
I am taken aback. Is that some sort of compliment? But then I look at his hand around my arm, feel his grip. It’s not tight but it’s clear I’m not going anywhere without his permission.
“You’re not afraid of something happening to me, just the baby.”
“Like I said, I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”
“No, because that would compromise the baby. Please don’t pretend to care about me. Just say it like it is, Jericho.” A moment of silence passes and there’s a part of me that wants him to tell me I’m wrong. That he does care about me, too. But he doesn’t. He just stands there silent and hard as a brick wall. “Look, I just want to say hi to my friend whom I haven’t seen since you took me. Please just let me say hello.” That last part is said through gritted teeth.
“I’m not stopping you. I’m just coming with you.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to argue but walks us toward the counter.
“Hey stranger,” Megs says, coming around to meet us. She’s smiling at me, casting a curious glance toward Jericho. She’s been watching that little display play out. I wonder what she makes of it. “It’s so great to see you.” She wraps me in a giant hug forcing Jericho to release me. “You good?” she whispers in my ear.
“Yeah,” I tell her, hugging her back, loving the warmth of her. The last time I saw her was at violin lessons more than two months ago. Megs is a single mom in her early forties and one of the kindest, warmest people I know. She has sworn off men forever. She jokes about it, saying cake is better than sex, but I know underneath that light façade is damage. Something bad happened to her.
“Julia was in here just last week,” she says, drawing back. “Stunk up the place with her perfume but Matty was as sweet as can be.” Megs does not like Julia and makes no secret of it. “Told me the happy news.” She studies Jericho, obviously not intimidated by the hulking man glaring down at her. “You must be the lucky groom. How did you snag this one?” she asks him, pointing her thumb at me.
It takes him a moment to reply, but he extends his hand. “Jericho St. James. Good to meet one of Isabelle’s friends.”
“He with you?” she asks, gesturing toward Dex.
Jericho nods.
“You think we can ask him to take a seat? He’s going to scare off customers.”
Jericho draws in a deep breath. Looks at me and nods, then actually leaves me alone to go talk to Dex. I’m shocked.
“He’s intense,” Megs says.
“Tell me about it,” I say, surprised he let go of me at all. I turn back to Megs. “How have you been? How’s Janie?”
“She’s good. You know. Busy with school and pre-teen angst.” She rolls her eyes. “So.” She glances to the table. “You a mommy now?” It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about Angelique. She doesn’t know about the pregnancy.
“I don’t know what I am, honestly. Come meet Angelique. She’s a sweetheart.”
She touches my arm to stop me. “Julia was strange when she came in. Stranger than usual.”
“Why don’t you like her?”
“There’s something about her. I don’t know what, but I do know one thing. I know to trust my instincts and they send up red flags whenever that woman’s around.”
“Maybe she just doesn’t like cake?”
“Anyone who doesn’t like cake cannot be trusted,” she says with a wink. “That bitch is too skinny for her own good. Anyway, she wasn’t exactly sharing happy news. Dropped in with an older guy and Matty. Matty was talking up a storm while the two of them sat brooding.” She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t even order anything for themselves. Like my food isn’t good enough for them.”
“Who was she with? Carlton?”
“Don’t know.” I remember she’s never met Carlton. “Middle-aged. Balding. Unremarkable.”
Sounds like Carlton. “Weird.”
Jericho joins us just as we get to the table. I introduce Megs and she takes everyone’s order, making a fuss over Angelique. Angelique loves this and hates it at once. She’s a shy girl and doesn’t like attention drawn to her. But she’s also just beaming and full of energy today. It’s the outing, the excitement of it all. This is how a five-year-old should always be. Happy. Excited. Enjoying life.
There’s a strange vibe between Ezekiel and Jericho. I study them, curious what it is, but Megs is quick with cake, tea and coffee. Having Angelique here eases the tension a little. At least it has everyone pretending there isn’t any. I take a few bites of cake hoping not to throw it back up but feel the nausea before I’ve finished a quarter of my slice.
Megs come by as we’re getting ready to leave. “So, I’ll see you Wednesday night?” she asks.
I put a hand to my stomach hoping to settle it. Wednesday night is the night we meet for violin lessons.
“I hope so,” I say.
“Text me and let me know. I may need a ride. The potato is giving me a headache lately.” The potato is her car. It’s her dad’s. The beloved Mustang is over twenty years old and is always giving her a headache.
I look at Jericho who is watching us as he helps Angelique stuff the books back into her bag.
“You need to get a car you can rely on,” I tell her, standing.
“I’m attached. What can I say?”
We hug. “It was really good to see you,” I tell her, aware of my stomach pressing against hers. Knowing she can’t feel anything. Nothing shows just yet. But it will soon.