Page 4 of Trial By Fire
I swallow down a wave of nausea at the thought of that mix and hurry toward the door, feeling Kace's curious gaze on me every step of the way.
I stumble my way downstairs to the cafe off the lobby to wait for the girls. I'm out of sorts and still feeling icky, but I get some crackers from the assorted offerings and a tea to settle my stomach. No orange juice and Oreos for me, thank you very much.
Once I'm at a table for two, I open my phone to busy myself, thinking the girls will stay until visiting hours are over.
An email catches my attention, and I frown as I click on it and read.
Crackers and tea forgotten, I stare at the screen and feel my body go boiling hot and then cold. And then blazing hot again.
Have you taken care of the problem yet?
That's it. No words of remorse. No sorry this happened. Not even a signature or his name. Just a demand disguised as a question.
I delete and block the email sender AKA baby daddy and sit back, resting my palm over the problem inside me.
Maybe the baby wasn't planned and is pretty much the last thing I need right now, but it's here, and I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I'm carrying a child. Maybe I am broke—for now—but I can figure this out. I will figure this out.
"Hey, you're Lindsey, right?"
I glance up to see a tiny woman standing nearby, coffee cup in hand from the cafe. "Yes, I'm sorry… I don't…?"
"I'm Zoey. I was at the bookstore opening today with the Babes. Tessa's my mother."
The image of an older, stylish woman with a pixie cut and perfect makeup comes to mind. "Oh, yes, I remember her. That group is the resident Golden Girls."
Zoey laughed at the comparison. "They are that. Are you okay? I don't mean to intrude, but you look a little pale, and I thought I'd check on you."
Tears spring to my eyes in an instant, and even though the polite thing to do would be to laugh and reassure Zoey that I am A-okay, the lump in my throat doesn't allow it. Instead, I barely hold back a sob that emerges as a choked gurgle that leaves me clamping a hand over my lips to hold it in.
"Oh, Lindsey. May I join you?"
I cover my face with my trembling hand and try to get myself under control. Is this pregnancy? Raging hormones and sickness? If that's all there is to show for it, why do women do this?
Zoey seats herself beside me, moving the chair and positioning it in such a way that she's close enough to keep a conversation private, though she's so small I'd say passersby can see me anyway.
I'm grateful though, because the tears just keep coming. I feel her hand on my shoulder, gently patting and soothing.
"S-sorry. I'm so embarrassed." I don't even know this woman, and here I am blubbering in front of her. Add that to my blunder upstairs in front of Kace, and ain't I just the icing on the cake topped with a rotten cherry?
"There's no need to be sorry or embarrassed. Sometimes tears just have to come out. It's good to let them go. It lets the body release tension."
"It's freaking hormones," I mutter. "And anger." I wave a hand toward the phone on the table. "A lot of anger. I can't believe I ever actually liked that idiot."I force myself to take a breath and angrily wipe my cheeks. I can't sit there and cry over a jerk. I won't allow it. "Can you keep a secret?"
Zoey smiles at me.
"Considering I'm a therapist, yes. Absolutely."
Oh. I didn't know she was a therapist. "Don't I have to be a patient or something?"
"I'll let that slide this time. What's going on, hmm? Anything I can help you with?"
I tap the phone screen. "No, not really. It's just…I'm pregnant."
"I figured as much after the hormones comment. I take it the baby wasn't planned?"
Her tone is soft and tender. "No," I say, tearing up again. "And I went against everything inside me telling me to not cross the line with him because he was a—a work colleague, but I did—only to find out that he's married. I didn't know," I stress as I swipe another tear. "I swear I didn't know. I can't stand women who go after married men. Now I'm one of them."
"You aren't one of them, Lindsey. Like you said, you didn't know." Zoey pulls a tissue from her pocket and hands it to me. "It's clean. I always keep them handy. Job hazard."
