The Problem with Peace (Greenstone Security 3)

My own stomach roiled, for reasons that had nothing to do with the hangover.

But then I met my sister’s happy eyes and it settled again.

I settled again.

I’d figure out how to find my peace. Even if I didn’t get it, the most important people in my world did and that was something.

Mom and Dad had come and gone.

Mom had looked through all my new travel purchases and tutted about me not buying enough. Lucy had echoed this.

My dad had taken me out to my favorite vegetarian restaurant while Mom and Lucy were baby shopping. He demanded I recount every detail of the trip. My dad had an adventurous soul just like mine. He soaked up all of my stories without judgments about how safe it was to take overnight trains through Africa or sleep under the stars by the sea in Italy.

I knew he worried, because he was my father. But he kept it to himself. Because he loved me enough to know that to try and stop me from doing these things was to stop me from being me. And he’d always nurtured my crazy soul.

Neither he or Mom mentioned Craig.

I knew they wanted to.

But they didn’t. Because they were treating me with Polly gloves.

And that’s why I was equal parts relieved and sad when they left. I adored them. But I couldn’t take them handling me with that much care for any longer. Because when people handled you with care, it was impossible to forget just how broken you were.

I’d spent the rest of the week catching up with friends, learning about Rain’s newest gig, helping out with some projects that my favorite charities needed extra hands on. Checked in with my favorite yoga center about what classes they had coming up.

I’d been determined to keep the week full, so I didn’t think about the emptiness of Heath’s stare.

I hadn’t seen him since then.

But his ghost followed me everywhere.

I’d only just gotten back to the apartment from a yoga class when Rosie barraged in with snacks and a grin.

And then she’d dropped a bomb on me.

Not a literal one, it was important to distinguish with her.

“You’re pregnant too?” I all but screamed after she’d detonated the verbal explosive.

“Yes, but I am not deaf,” she replied, rubbing her ears. “Or at least I wasn’t.”

I ignored this and yanked her into my arms, happiness spreading through me with a purity that was rare these days. I wanted to hold onto it. Bask in the happiness for my sister who had gone through so much pain and turmoil and somehow come out of it.

“Stop squeezing me,” she protested, pushing back. “The baby isn’t meant to come out for like another five months.”

“You’re four months,” I said, gaping at her nearly flat stomach. I hadn’t even noticed the slight swell to it until now.

Rosie grinned. “I know, Lucy like hates me because we’re only a few weeks apart and her ankles are already swelling.” She flopped down on the sofa and lifted her stiletto-clad foot. “Still slim and beautiful on this end.”

I walked over to the fridge to get wine for me and water for Rosie. She would likely hate me for drinking wine in front of her, but I needed it these days.

To dull the edges.

Even on happy days like this, everything was a little too sharp, the past prodding at me with enough force to draw blood.

“Did you guys plan this or something?” I asked, passing her water.

As predicted, she glared at me like I was offering her some kind of dead animal, taking it reluctantly.

“No, of course, we didn’t plan it, we’re not that lame,” she replied. “I wouldn’t put it past Luke and Keltan, though. Their bromance is going strong. Their cycles probably synced up or something.”

I choked on my wine.

She grinned. “That’s what you get for drinking wine in front of me. Ah, I love it when karma works instantly.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Whoever invented the no wine rule with pregnancy was a douchebag,” Rosie muttered.

“Um, medical professionals didn’t invent it more so discover the side effects of alcohol on an unborn baby,” I said dryly.

Rosie waved her hand in dismissal. “Yes but get this, Luke isn’t letting me work. He thinks because I’m growing a baby I can’t kick ass. I can kick ass until the day I pop this sucker out.”

“He just cares about your safety, and the safety of his unborn child,” I said.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “He’s got his safety to worry about if he thinks he can order me around.”

“Love doesn’t know order or peace, it only knows itself, which is both or neither,” I murmured, sipping my wine.

I looked up after a considerable silence to see Rosie blinking rapidly at me, and only half of it was to do with the fact she was coveting my wine.