Page 8 of Saving Their Forever

Daria finishes the last coat of polish on my toes and pats my calf. “You’re done, love. But wait at least ten minutes before you get up. And…” She peers up at me, narrowing her eyes like she knows something I don’t. “Stay close to home on Friday. It’s a new moon. I think your daughter will come then.”

I gape at her. “I never said I was having a girl. Did I?”

She chuckles. “I’ve had five children and sixteen nieces and nephews. I can tell.” Waving her hand, she motions for the teapot. “I can also tell you’re dehydrated. Have more tea.”

“Well, that was weird,” Cara says when the three of us are alone again. “And maybe a little creepy.”

“It happens everywhere. Apparently, it’s a thing.” The light, floral taste of the tea is comforting. Will I really have this kid in just three days?

“A thing?” Evianna swings her legs over the side of the massage chair. “What’s a thing?”

“Random people thinking because you’re pregnant, they can touch your belly or give you unsolicited parenting advice. Some woman in the grocery store a couple of weeks ago told me all about breastfeeding and how the only good nipple cream was made out of—well, trust me. You don’t want to know.”

Cara frowns. “Who the hell does that?”

“According to the internet, everyone.” I drain the last of the tea and shrug. “I have a lot of downtime while I’m running code. And I don’t know anyone with kids. So I signed up for a couple of pregnancy message boards.”

I shouldn’t feel guilty about my admission, but Evianna and Cara are my two closest friends. And I’ve kept this from them for…well…almost nine months.

“Ry doesn’t know,” I say. “About the woman at the grocery store. Don’t tell him, okay? He doesn’t want me going anywhere alone. Heck, he tried to come with us today. He wanted to sit in the lobby for two hours and glare at everyone who came through the doors.”

“Daddy McCabe is going to be a force to be reckoned with,” Evianna says with a smile.

My eyes fill with tears, and the room starts to shimmer.

“Hey,” Cara says, reaching over to rest her hand on mine. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not going to lose…me…when I have the baby? Am I?”

Suddenly, I’m sobbing. Evianna and Cara’s arms come around me, and all I can think is that they’re going to ruin their pedicures because clearly they’re not listening to Daria and keeping their toes under the little fans.

“You’re not going to lose yourself,” Evianna says softly. “You ran comms while hunched over the toilet with morning sickness. You wrote code waiting for the ultrasound technician. You’re so hardwired to be you, nothing will ever change that.”

“Fudgesicles. I’m going to be a terrible mom.” Even as I say the words, I hear how ridiculous they sound, but I can’t stop myself. “What if I can’t find the right balance? I’ve stayed up for thirty-six hours working before. I can’t do that with a baby. But if I don’t work, people could die. Ripper and Zephyr are amazing, but I can do things they can’t. And there isn’t time to teach them before Friday!”

“Wren, look at me.” Evianna’s sharp tone is enough for me to sniffle and swipe at my cheeks. “Rip and Z are great. But you’re not going to the moon. You’re having a baby. Pretty sure you can still talk on the phone while breastfeeding. Or changing a diaper. You’ll still be a part of the team. Just one who carries a binky and knows all the words to Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

“Doesn’t everyone know that song?” I manage. “It’s like…a classic.”

We share a laugh, and a fraction of the weight I’ve been carrying for months lifts from my shoulders. If only my ankles felt the same relief. I miss being able to walk comfortably. Sit comfortably. Do anything comfortably.

“You’re going to be fine, hon,” Evianna says. “I promise.”

* * *

Our flip-flops slap against the sidewalk. That’s the problem with pedicures. You can’t wear real shoes for hours—if you want the polish to last. And since I probably won’t have the time—or energy—to make another salon appointment for months…I’m playing it safe.

“I need arch support,” Evianna says on a sigh. “When you wear heels every day…”

“Oh, God. You’re the boss. Wear what’s comfortable. Heels are pure torture.” I shudder at the very idea of spending my days in anything but Keds, Sketchers, or slippers. With my anxiety, Ryker and I don’t go out much. We’re takeout and Netflix people. Not dinner and dancing people. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

Except, the baby is about to change everything. Bedtime stories, diaper changes, feedings… My chest tightens as the first stirrings of overwhelm wash over me. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up having a panic attack, and I don’t want to ruin such a lovely afternoon.

The traffic signal changes as we reach the curb, and I brace a hand on the small of my back. Walking isn’t exactly comfortable, but standing is a hundred times worse.

A bell jingles from the florist shop to my left, and I glance at the windows full of colorful bouquets. In the reflection, a man across the street stares at us. I only notice because he isn’t moving. At all. And despite the warmth of the late April day, he’s dressed all in black, including a knit cap pulled all the way down to his dark sunglasses.

I’m no longer overwhelmed. I’m worried. Shivering, even with the sun shining down on us, I loop my fingers around the crook of Cara’s elbow. “Can you do me a favor?”

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