stocked a playlist with new downloads of Christmas songs, since neither of us owned any. I helped him hang the tinsel as we talked about the traditions our families had when we were kids. He told me his family always opened one present on Christmas Eve, and that reminded me of Manny’s mom and her disapproval of Mercedes. So as we began to hang the ornaments, I told him that story. That topic drifted naturally into my not being a fan of this holiday when I was a teenager because I thought that religion caused more harm than good, but that as an adult, I’d gotten caught up in the spirit despite myself because there was a lot of good that came of it, too. People were nicer to each other over all. They smile more. I love gift giving. And who doesn’t enjoy pumpkin bread? And after I became aware that I had a long night ahead of me, I sat and watched him finish the tree.
Never once during all that time did I think about the guy following me home last night. I must have blocked it out because I didn’t want to sour the sweetness of our special day. But now, I can’t not tell him. Brendan hates not being told things. I learned that the hard way.
I open my eyes with this on my mind, troubled. “Brendan, I love you so much, it hurts.”
He frowns a little, trying to figure why my expression doesn’t match the response. “What’s up? What’s that look on your face? Are you still thinking I didn’t want this, because if you are–”
“No! No. It’s just…I remembered something I forgot to tell you.” He lowers my foot onto his lap, still holding it, waiting. “Well, it may have been nothing, but I think someone followed me home from work last night.”
His eyes change and his face contorts. “What?! You’re just now telling me this?”
“Honey, you’re squeezing my foot really hard,” I say, gently.
He releases it, and blinks over to the side. “Annie. What happened? I’m really not happy about this.”
“I know. I guess I blocked it out. I just wanted to enjoy our day!” He glares at me, trying to contain himself and not doing a great job. The story tumbles out of my mouth so quickly I jumble words up as I tell it. He listens with such incredible focus, it’s frightening. I can see why men are the ones who battle and start wars, because the fire in his eyes comes from somewhere deep, a place I don’t have in me.
When I’m finished, he asks through gritted teeth, “You didn’t see him?” I shake my head, which makes him vault off the ottoman and pace the room, raking one hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you look? Are you sure you were followed?”
Embarrassed I didn’t check behind me when I heard the footsteps in the first place, I give the tiniest nod. “Yeah, I am. I mean, I was. But the fog does funny things to me after that night, you know?” He nods curtly that he can understand that. “So maybe I was just hearing things? Bobby didn’t see anyone, and my purse and phone…they weren’t stolen!”
Brendan looks to the hardwood floor, searching his logic for answers. “Right, so if it was a robber, then he would have taken those things. Unless he saw Bobby and didn’t get the chance. Which is possible.”
I nod again, glad to see he’s calming down a little. “Yeah, but honey, he’s not going to be there again tonight. I mean, that wouldn’t make sense! They never come back to the scene of the–”
Brendan’s eyes blaze, silencing me. “Tommy did.”
My stomach turns over at the name. “Tommy’s in jail. This was probably just some guy who wanted Christmas money. There are a lot of robberies this time of year. There’s a lot of pressure on people to buy things when they can’t afford it. I’m sure that’s all it was. I’m sure he won’t be back.”
“What kind of sick bastard chases a pregnant woman?” Brendan asks himself. He raises his eyes with authority. “You’re not going in again.”
Losing my patience, I blurt, “Forever? Come on. Please be reasonable.”
His jaw ticks and seeing my fire rising, he shakes his head, informing me with clear enunciation, “Not until the baby is born and you can defend yourself again. And even then, I’m going to pick you up every night.”
I hit the couch with both hands, the