Page 11 of Salty Pickle

I do, but the softness of the cushion bends me too far, which sets off the cramps again. I gasp and clutch my belly.

“I’d feel better calling an ambulance,” Devin says.

“Please don’t,” I get out. “I’ll be okay if I can stretch out a moment.”

Court lifts my feet onto the burgundy sofa. “Devin, adjust it near your end.”

Devin stacks the soft pillows against the arm of the sofa.

My head sinks into them like a cloud.

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I’m used to it. It’s only a few weeks more.” I can’t stifle my yawn.

Something nudges my hand. It’s Matilda. She presses her nose into my palm. “Shhh, my baby,” I say.

She settles down on the floor beside the sofa.

“We should get her something to eat,” Court says. “Go to that all-natural place on the corner.”

“I’m vegetarian,” I say.

“Right. Order a bunch of things. And get some bottles for that milk. I can store it in the fridge.”

“No plastic,” I say. “I’d rather pour it down the drain than put it in plastic.”

Court frowns. “Glass bottles.”

Devin nods. “Got it. Text me if you think of anything else.” He takes off like the room is on fire.

My fingers trail along Matilda’s back. “Precious girl. It was a long ride.”

“I bet.” Court looks down at us, hands shoved in his pockets. “Just sit tight. We’ll figure things out. That’s what I pay people to do.”

I want to ask him if he has friends to talk to about this. It’s going to be an adjustment. Maybe his brothers will be able to give him advice. I remember them being there that night, laughing and smacking his shoulder in encouragement when I approached.

That moment is crystallized in my memory. I wore a silvery dress, borrowed from Summer. Her shoes were a size too large, but I managed in them, crossing the strange little bar to say hello.

My first words to him had been, “What’s a guy like you doing in a haunted bar like this?”

It’s a lot, finding out that the night created a baby with a stranger. I’ve had time to come to terms with it. April, Summer, and I spent long hours discussing our future with the baby. It had been April who tied the string to a crystal and swung it over my belly.

They had been my friends. My future. I never expected to be doing this alone.

But I can’t think about it any longer.

I’m simply.

Too.

Tired.

4

COURT

She’s out again.

I pace the room, eventually shucking my coat and tie. Is it warm in here? I turn down the air conditioning, then worry she’ll be cold. I don’t have a blanket.

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