Alone in her kitchen that night, she’d flexed her hand to feel the sharp sting. She’d remembered.
Then she’d dug a guy’s number out of her trash.
Because her birthday was simply another workday, she’d met with Vic, a first-time client, earlier that afternoon. He was a neighbor’s casual friend, newly unemployed and eager for prophetic guidance before a job interview. He’d flirted with her. Made her feel pretty.
He’d also made it clear that he only wanted a quick fuck. Still, she’d called him. Distracted herself from her emotions with her body and his.
The condom had broken. A few weeks later, a plus sign had appeared on her pregnancy test.
She’d thought hard about an abortion. But she’d always wanted children and didn’t figure she’d get another shot, given her age and circumstances, so she’d made an appointment with an obstetrician instead. Vic had signed away his rights. Gwen’s neighbor Maneet had promised to help with childcare, just as she did for her own daughter, in exchange for weekly prophetic sessions.
So here Gwen was. Pregnant. Single. Humming with unfamiliar power. Terrified for herself, the child growing within her, and everyone else in this godsforsaken world.
Hugh Blacke was now privy to yet another awful moment in her life.
Except for when he was actively kissing her for an audience,he still wasn’t the world’s most expressive individual. This time, though—unlike two decades ago—she was smart enough to recognize his kindness when she saw it. Back then, it had revealed itself via an intervention with her headmaster, advice intended to offer comfort, and a fair hearing. Now it was a thermal bottle of herbal tea. Crackers. A blanket. A supportive arm across her back and an invitation to stay with him for her safety.
His presence in this SUV, despite his better judgment.
“We should arrive at your apartment momentarily.” Squinting against the late-morning glare, he met her eyes. “Are you well?”
“I am,” she told him, and for the moment she truly was.
She was also grateful. No matter what happened next, she’d remain so.
11
“I’m sorry,” Gwen called out from behind the flimsy screen that separated her bedroom from the rest of the apartment. “I know things are a bit sparse in my refrigerator. I definitely have some cheese. Maybe grapes too?”
Somehow, when they’d decided Hugh would accompany her to her home, she hadn’t actually picturedhavinghim there.
The apartment was neat, of course, and cheerfully decorated. But tiny. Oh, so tiny. Not to mention threadbare and mismatched, because she got all her furnishings secondhand. The contrast to his own sprawling, neoclassical apartment couldn’t have been starker.
Upon their arrival, she’d played the bountiful hostess and encouraged him to grab a snack while she packed. But if generic saltines and canned peaches didn’t strike his fancy, he was pretty much out of luck in her tiny pantry, because she couldn’t see himpreparing oatmeal, ramen, or boxed mac and cheese on her two-burner stove.
Her ancient, avocado-green refrigerator wouldn’t offer him much either. Last week, she’d received a pan of homemade lasagna and some brownies as payment for prophesizing, but those were long gone, so…his options were limited. Embarrassingly so.
The refrigerator door required some force to open, and it gave its distinctive rattle as he wrenched it ajar. She stilled, holding her breath as she waited for his reaction.
There was an extended, problematic silence.
“This is”—he cleared his throat—“a great deal of cheddar.”
Her cheeks burned, but she did her best to sound unbothered. “Have as much as you’d like!”
As much as you’d likewould probably mean none, because why in the world would he consume store-brand cheddar when he probably owned a freaking girolle and created gorgeous Tête de Moine rosettes on the daily? Wasn’t that what all rich people—demons, rather—did?
Speaking of cheese…
“You don’t happen to watchCurdled, do you?” She threw a couple of sweaters into a duct-taped duffel bag. “The new, holiday-themed season came out this week after we’d already lost power here. I don’t want spoilers, but…” One more bra should be enough, right? “All right, I do kind of want spoilers. My actual life provides me with plenty of suspense at the moment. I don’t need my cheese-themed drama series to give me more.”
“Someone adapted those books for television?” He sounded surprised. “I had no idea.”
Frankly, she was equally surprised. “You’ve read them?”
“A long time ago.” A lengthy pause. “You may not remember, but you told me about the first novel in the series. Before your test. I, uh…wanted to learn more.”
She rocked back on her heels, startled. “Oh.”
