Page 37 of Terror at the Gates

As much as I loved Gabriel, I questioned how he managed to land her. She was out of his league.

Fuck, she was out ofmyleague.

“I’m good,” she said, smiling. “Better now that you are here.”

“I missed you,” I said.

“You are always welcome,” she replied, which again filled me with gnawing guilt. It had been a while since I’d visited, though it wasn’t because I hadn’t wanted to. I’d been busy trying to make ends meet. “I will want your company, especially after the baby arrives.”

My eyes lowered to her belly. “How is my nephew?”

Gabriel and Esther were as close as I would get to having a brother and sister. I was grateful they had claimed me.

“He’s thriving,” she said. “Me, not so much.”

“You look beautiful,” I said, because it was true and because I didn’t know what else to say.

“You are always so sweet, Lily,” she said. I wasn’t, but it was kind of her to say. “Come in.”

She held the door open for me, and I walked ahead of her to the kitchen. It was open to the living room, which had large, arched windows, brick walls, and exposed metal pipes overhead. Esther liked plants, and she kept a variety of ivies, shrubs, and palms. It was one thing that reminded me of Hiram and probably the one thing I missed about my home district, the beauty of a thriving green garden.

There wasn’t much in Nineveh, unless you counted the weeds that grew between the cracks in the pavement.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked.

“I’ll make it,” I said. “You sit.”

She smiled. “You’re such a dear.”

I moved into the kitchen and found her kettle.

“I was so jealous when Gabe told me he saw you last night,” she said, lowering onto the couch as I filled her kettle with water and turned it on to boil.

“Well, it wasn’t the best circumstances,” I said, retrieving two mugs from the cupboard. “This is much better.”

“I heard,” she said, frowning. “I worry about you, Lily.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “You have enough on your plate. Besides, I’m fine. Look at me, here in one piece.”

I stretched my arms into the air and give her a little curtsy, showing off. I was being silly, but I thought it might make her smile.

It didn’t.

“You are,” she agreed. “But I will always worry about you.”

“Well,” I said, her sincerity making me feel awkward, even though I was grateful. “That’s why I love you.” The kettle began to rumble. “Which tea would you like?” I asked.

“There’s ginger in the canister,” she said and then rose to her feet again, a hand on her lower back.

“I’ll find it,” I said.

“I’m not getting up for tea,” she said. “I’m getting up for cake.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “I can bring you a slice,” I said. “Or the whole thing, whatever you need. Just tell me where it is.”

“Just a slice,” she said, breathless, as she took her seat again. “It’s behind you.”

I turned and saw a half-eaten chocolate cake. It sat on a plate covered with a glass dome and was decorated with purple orchid blossoms. Esther had to make everything look pretty, even at thirty-five weeks pregnant.

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