He nods, and we plan for a day and time. Just before I turn around, Emil says my name again, reaching into his pocket andpulling out a folded note. “I saw a poem yesterday that made me think of you. It’s short.”
I take it, try not to tear up. “Thanks, Emil.”
“Be careful, Audrey. Call me if you need anything.”
The offer makes me feel just alittleless alone.
The apartment is too quiet when I get home.
The couch still holds the imprint of where I sat this morning. The kitchen smells like tea and toast. I set Emil’s poem on the counter, telling myself I’ll read it later. Maybe.
There’s a knock at the door just before five. I startle. For a moment, my heart kicks like it’s him. Like he’s finally here. Then it plummets in fear. PTSD will do that to you. Even with Sal dead, it still feels like someone’s out to get me.
But it’s onlyChrissy, juggling takeout and a grocery bag.
“Hey, I brought soup and ice cream,” she says, brushing past me into the kitchen. “Also, you need more bread. And whatever weird pregnancy juice you keep drinking.”
“Coconut water.”
“That.”
She dumps everything onto the counter, tosses her coat over the back of a chair, and fixes me with a look. “You haven’t been answering your texts.”
“Sorry, my stomach has been off. And I’ve been tired.”
“Hence the soup,” she brandishes the container, raising her brows. “You’ve been hiding.”
I sigh. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m just…” She pauses, pouring the soup into a bowl. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re miserable.”
I sit slowly. The baby gives a little kick, as if to agree with her.
Chrissy leans her elbows on the counter. “When was the last time you talked to him?”
“I haven’t.”
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… he hasn’t called. I haven’t seen him since the hospital. Since that night.” My voice cracks, and I look away. “He sent a message. That was it.”
Chrissy stares at me. “You’re telling me you’re carrying this man’s baby, and he hasn’t even checked in?”
Okay, so maybe I hadn’t told Chrissy everything… “Chris, I… I told him I didn’t want to do this anymore.”
She snorts. “It’s a little late for that.”
“With him,” I clarify, rolling my eyes.
She’s quiet for a long moment. “You told Konstantin Martynov, the man who you basically had a contract with to fuck you pregnant, that you didn’t want to raise a baby with him?”
God, it sounds bad when she says it like that. “…Yes.”
“And you didn’t feel like that was an important thing to explain. This whole time I thought he’d just dumped you, Audrey, and the baby.”
