“So what?”
The coldness in his voice frightened me more than the words themselves.
“I pay for this place,” he continued. “I need sleep so I can work. You’re already on maternity leave. Sleeping in the car for a few weeks isn’t a big deal.”
I searched his face for some sign of compassion.
There was none.
“You’re serious?”
“I have to be up in three hours, Claire.”
He pulled the blanket over himself and turned toward the wall.
The conversation was over.
At least, it was over for him.
I sat there for several minutes, my hands trembling around the car keys.
Then I slowly climbed out of bed.
The First Night
Our apartment was on the third floor of an older building with no elevator.
I carried my pregnancy pillow beneath one arm and my purse over the other shoulder. Every step down the stairs sent pressure through my hips.
