My heart began pounding.
I reached for my phone.
Then someone stepped out of the vehicle.
A woman wearing slippers and a robe hurried toward my car.
It was Linda.
She knocked on the window.
“Claire?”
I unlocked the door.
The moment Linda saw me curled across the back seat with my pregnancy pillow, her face drained of color.
“What are you doing out here?”
I tried to sit up, but my hip had stiffened.
“Nothing. I was just—”
“Claire, it’s two in the morning.”
She opened the back door and crouched beside me.
“Why are you sleeping in the car?”
I looked toward our apartment window.
The lights were off.
“Ryan couldn’t sleep.”
Linda stared at me.
“What does that have to do with you being out here?”
My throat tightened.
“He said I move too much. I keep getting up to use the bathroom, and it wakes him.”
