Page 55 of Unleashed
I glance at the clock—five minutes to close. “Depends,” I say, sliding the rag over the counter one last time. “Are you a desperate caffeine addict, or just someone who doesn’t want to go home yet?”
That earns a laugh out of him, rough and tired. “Both, actually. But I’ll settle for whatever keeps me upright long enough to make it through my inbox.”
I nod, already moving toward the machine. “One latte coming right up.”
While it hisses and steams, he leans against the counter. “You new here? Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“Couple weeks,” I say, keeping my eyes on the cup, on the foam rising. “Just helping out.”
“Glad you are.” He smiles, faint but genuine. “Most baristas look like they’re plotting my death when I walk in this late. You actually look like you care.”
I force a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “That’s because I haven’t been here long enough to start plotting.”
He chuckles, takes the latte, and slips a tip into the jar. “See you around, newbie.”
The bell chimes again, leaving the shop wrapped in that end-of-the-day silence. I flip the last chair onto the table, drag the rag across a stubborn ring of syrup, and lean back with a sigh. My body aches, the kind of tired that lingers in the bones, but it’s a good tired—earned.
I reach for the lights, keys jingling in my hand, when it happens.
A flutter.
So faint I almost doubt it. A whisper against the inside of me, like the brush of a feather or the pop of a bubble. My breath catches, the room blurring at the edges as stillness settles heavily in my chest.
And then—again. Not gas. Not nerves. Not anything I can explain away.
My hand flies to my stomach, pressing over the gentle swell I’ve watched grow in the mirror. My eyes sting, and before I can stop them, tears spill over. It’s real.
“My baby.” I choke out a laugh, my heart beating so fast, so full. It’s an emotion I’ve never felt before—never experienced before. I knew there was a new life inside of me. I saw the heartbeat. Heard it. But to feel it? God, it brings everything into sharp and clear focus. It’s no longer just a sonogram image or a doctor’s confirmation. This…this is life stirring beneath my hand. A tiny soul reaching out in the only way it can.
I turn and lean against the locked door, the world in front of me fading into the background. My palms press harder against the swell, desperate to catch every ripple, every whisper of movement. It’s fragile, fleeting, but it’sthere. A connection that no one else could possibly feel, a secret language between just the two of us.
“My baby,” I whisper again, softer this time, reverent. The words feel holy on my tongue, like a prayer. The promise of a heartbeat that once flickered on a grainy screen now echoes in my body, announcing itself with this delicate wave. For the first time, it’s not just something happeningtome. It’s something happeningwithme. To us. Together.
There’s so much joy in this one condensed, tiny moment, it overflows, and my first reaction is to share it with someone. To share it with…him. It’s a cruel thought. It brings down the reality so hard, it almost knocks me off my feet.
I’m alone. Just like the appointment I had at twelve weeks. Just like the morning when I woke up and realized my tummy’s grown, that my pants no longer fit. Just like I’ll be going to the next sonogram. Alone. Without him.
Isaia’s face flashes in my mind, unbidden—his dark eyes locking on mine, the rough scrape of his voice when he said I was his.My chest tightens. He should be here. He should be the first to know, the first to touch my stomach and feel what I just felt.
My laugh comes out shaky, torn between wonder and grief. Because even in this moment of purest joy, my first instinct is still him. My heart still runs to him like it doesn’t know how to do anything else.
I press both palms to my belly, closing my eyes against the rush of ache and love that feels too big for my ribs. “Your daddy would lose his mind right now,” I whisper to the life inside me. The life I need to protect. The life I need to move on for.
On my way home to Molly’s apartment, I steer off the usual path and down the quiet stretch that winds through a park, my thoughts filled with images of tiny fingers and toes. Dreams of nursery colors and first steps.
It isn’t until a boy shouts for me to duck from an oncoming soccer ball that I realize where I am. The park.
The. Park. And I suck in a breath, a slow ache spreading as memories flow back. It wasn’t intentional. The path I took, every turn I made, it wasn’t planned…But I ended up here anyway. The park where our story began.
A breeze stirs, the faint chill making me shiver as I think of that night. Luna had torn free, her leash slipping from my grasp, and barreled straight toward him—straight into the man I’d eventually lose my heart to. She tangled us together in a moment that felt scripted, like it had been written long before we ever arrived. This place, that night… it changed everything.
Families drift past with strollers and picnic baskets, their laughter lilting in the air. My steps slow, heavy with the weight ofmemory. This park is haunted with him. Every bench, every tree, every patch of gravel feels like it remembers. Like it’s waiting.
And maybe that’s why my chest tightens the way it does. Maybe that’s why the air shifts, brushing against me like a touch I know too well. I swallow hard, pulse stuttering as a prickle of awareness crawls over my skin. It’s the same feeling that stalks me everywhere—walking home from work, standing in line at the store, closing my curtains at night. Like he’s here. Watching. Close enough to touch.
I tell myself it’s in my head. Wishful thinking. But hope has teeth, and it sinks in deep. Maybe today’s the day he’ll come for me. Maybe today he’ll reach out like he did in the elevator.
Maybe not.
