Page 37 of The Beast's Baby
She scooted closer until he could wrap his arms around her, her head on his chest and he closed his eyes. He remembered their first meeting, the very first time their eyes had met. He remembered thinking he’d never seen eyes like hers before, that he felt a million questions bubble within him. He’d wanted to know everything about her and so he’d put a lid on it. He’d known he wasn’t supposed to chat and so he’d kept mum.
“You know, that first day,” he said. “I wanted to ask you about the T-shirt you were wearing.”
“Really?” she asked. “Which one?”
“The Led Zeppelin one. Did you buy it just because you liked the print or do you actually like Led Zeppelin?”
She pushed onto one elbow to get his gaze in hers, eyebrows raised high. “Do I look like the kind of girl who’d buy a T-shirt for the print alone and walk around like some poser?” she asked.
“Poser, wow, haven’t heard that expression in a long time,” he smirked.
She gave him a look, but chuckled, laying back down.
“I’m a big Zeppelin fan,” she said. “What music do you like?”
“Classical,” he replied without missing a beat and she laughed out loud.
“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with some nice strings once in a while,” she said, making him smile.
“What I mean to say is that I had questions right away, and I couldn’t ask them, but I’m glad I’ll get to now,” he said. “I’ll get to. Right?”
“Yeah, you’ll get to,” she said. “Unless you’ve got questions about the underground gambling ring I’m running out of my friend’s basement.”
“Oh, right,” he said. “Understandable.”
“Good. Because Martin would kill me if he found out I’d told anyone about it. So don’t ask, alright?”
“I won’t.”
He felt his eyelids growing heavy, thinking how different things might have been if they’d gotten away. If they’d found a motel. If they’d started their search for Olive. He wondered where she was. If they had her. Though he doubted it.
***
“Wake up.”
The voice was incessant and when he opened his eyes, they met the dark brown of the cleaning lady. She glared at him as though he’d committed a cardinal sin by forgetting to set an alarm and he realized that he was still in the same position he’d gone to sleep in, and that Isobel was stirring awake in his arms.
“Sorry,” he said to the cleaning lady. “We must have overslept. We were up late last night.”
“Apparently so,” the woman said, shaking her head at him. “Get up so I can get the sheets off.”
“Can you please do the living room first, Angelica?” Isobel asked. “Please? We’ll be up in fifteen minutes, I promise.”
Angelica hummed and complained but seemed to have taken a liking to Isobel since she left the bedroom as requested. He felt a little strange, though last night he’d felt like he was right where he was supposed to be. They knew so little about each other after all. It was basically like waking with an almost stranger in his arms.
Only this stranger was the mother of his child.
“Good morning,” he said.
She smiled and it made everything seem right again. “Good morning,” she greeted.
Then she frowned, dragging her hand across his stomach, and keeping it under the covers before she suddenly covered both of them with the sheets.
“What are you doing?” he laughed, and she laughed as well, pulling him in for a kiss.
Oh.
But just as it was getting good, she broke them apart again, pressing one finger over his lips and then pointing to something in her other hand: a piece of paper.
