Page 32 of Capturing Hearts

“It’s okay. I’ll go look. You stay here.”

I lean against the sturdy building for support as Bobby races around looking. In the middle of Mission, he dips out of sight and springs up on the sidewalk. He holds them both in the air, and my spirits sink. I know I should be happy it was in my imagination, but I don’t believe I imagined it at all. I believe there was someone there. There are enough nooks and crannies between the walls to hide a predator. The fact that those things weren’t taken is extremely unsettling. If he didn’t want money or my phone, what did he want? Me? Did he want me?

Bobby’s searching the area as he walks back to me. Handing me my things, he says, “I don’t see anyone, Annie. Are you sure?”

Blinking into the distance, I nod. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s to trust my instincts. I heard him.”

“Was there someone bothering you at Le Barré tonight?”

“No. No one. It was a really nice night. Everyone was in a holiday mood except one couple who seemed to be either breaking up or on a bad first date.” I laugh nervously. “Maybe it was the Ice Queen coming back to make us pay for making fun of her.”

Bobby smiles, but the smile stops before it hits his eyes. “You and Barb?”

“Yeah.”

He holds his palm up, asking for my phone. “Let’s call Brendan.”

Tucking it into my bag, I shake my head emphatically. “No! He’s been getting no sleep, worried the baby will arrive, that he won’t be ready.” Brendan will blow a gasket when he hears about this, and then I won’t be able to get any sleep. I need sleep. I can’t stay up with him tonight trying to calm him down, too. All I want is to get home to my husband. “Just walk me to my car?”

Bobby nods, but it’s clear he very much wants to call his friend right now. “Of course. Sure.”

“Bobby, seriously. Don’t call him when you go back into the bar. I’ll text you when I get home and tell Brendan first thing tomorrow. Nothing happened. What good is it going to do to wake him and freak him out, right? Come on.”

Bobby shifts his shoulders, considering the logic. After a second of debating what to do, he exhales. “Right. Okay. But you had better remember to text me or I’ll show up at your place banging on the door. I’m not kidding.”

Smiling gratefully, I assure him, “I will. I promise.”

The irony that I had to run to a man to protect me after all I’ve learned in self-defense, is not lost on me. But with this child, things are different. I can’t exactly move like I used to and I’m so much more vulnerable now than I would have ever admitted before tonight. It’s struck me very hard how fragile I’ve become, and I don’t like it. My hand is shaking as I pull out my keys, unlock the car door and get in, lowering myself carefully to the seat.

“Why won’t you just be born, Jacob? What are you waiting for honey?” I say, under my breath.

With streetlights glowing through the fog behind him, Bobby knocks on my window with his knuckles. His mouth is tight as he asks, “Why are you working, Annie? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Sighing, I look up at him, and roll down the window. “Let’s not go there, okay?”

He nods, troubled. “Okay. None of my business.”

“Thank you for hearing me call for you.”

Dryly, he says on a smile, “The North Pole heard you. Santa’s on his way.”

I can’t help but grin, but sarcasm drips from my, “Har. Har,” and I roll up the window, cutting him off from saying more.

Pulling away from the curb, I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, turning on the radio just in time to catch the beginning of Michael Buble’s I’ll be home for Christmas, but the question Bobby just asked me is louder than the radio. Brendan’s been asking the same thing. His ad agency is closed for the holiday break, and he wanted me to take time off, more for the overdue term than for the festive celebrations. Since I’ve been working almost every night to give Taryn time off, and now Laura, we haven’t even decorated the tree yet. Yes, it’s made the penthouse smell delicious, even with the side of guilt it’s served with, but still. I guess I’ve not been taking enough time for family things.

Even so, and I didn’t feel like repeating to Bobby what I’ve exhaustedly told my husband, but the bar is my child, too. It’s the first thing I’ve done on my own, and with the help he and Bobby gave me, it’s finally doing well. Tearing me away from it would be necessary because I love being there. Watching it blossom has been the greatest joy of my life, and with Jacob taking his time to come out, it’s given me something to focus on. And the doctor said I’m healthy and that working could possibly help induce labor. I shuddered to imagine that happening in the middle of a shift, but that didn’t stop me from using it as ammo for my argument.

Turning my car off in front of our building, I look up to the penthouse and sigh.

He is so not going to want to hear what happened to me.

Pulling my hood up, I grab onto the doorframe and hoist my fat ass up. Glancing around me, I pause to listen. I have the overwhelming feeling I’m being watched. A night bird whistles faintly in the distance. Shutting the car door, I walk to the front steps quickly, pulling out my keys. The shakiness still hasn’t left me, and it takes me a second to get the slender jagged point to slip into the lock. Looking behind me, I walk in and shut the door, heading for the elevator, the hair standing up on the back of my neck. It really feels like someone is staring at me, but I’m sure I’m being paranoid. I’m sure it’s still nerves from earlier.

Even still, as the elevator doors whoosh open, I can’t help but look toward the front of the building, through the windows. There’s only darkness, and a reflection of the lobby skewed and warped. If there is someone outside, he can see me clearly, but I can’t see him. I slip into the elevator and jab the button repeatedly to close the doors, unable to shake the eerie feeling. They slide closed with agonizing slowness and I hold onto my belly, humming unconsciously to my baby.

We’re the only apartment on the top floor, so the walk to our door is less painful. The moment I’m inside, I lock the deadbolt and rest against the door in an attempt to calm my heart.

Brendan calls from the bedroom in his sleepy voice, “Freckles?” and I nearly jump out of my skin.

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