I—who has never thrown anything at anybody in my whole life, including my fifth-grade chorus teacher Mrs. Wilson who said frogs had better voices or the snot-nosed Henry Watts who poked sticks against my belly and called me fat when I was ten—I grab the closest thing to me and whip it toward my ex. The broccoli bunch strikes him on the shoulder. He jerks back in surprise as if I’d shot him.
“Here. This one, too.” Mae shoves something else in my hand—something red and squishy. I launch it unthinkingly. Before it lands, I have another tomato in my hand and then another. I can’t stop. I’m a tornado of fruit and bread and jars.
“Stop. Stop!” someone yells, but I can’t stop, but my cart’s almost empty. Desperately, I look around and realize I’m standing by an end cap full of s’more ingredients. Bypassing the marshmallows, I go straight for the candy bars.
“Not the chocolate,” Mae yells, but I’m not listening.
Jack ducks and slides to the side while the six pack of candy bars falls harmlessly to the floor. “I’m sorry, but I take it that I look like someone you know?”
“Someone I know? Someone I know?” I’m getting lightheaded with my anger.
“Oh, you did not say that.” Mae slaps another container in my hand. “Pelt that ass with all the chocolate in the land.”
“I thought you were dead! You didn’t call. You didn’t text. I thought you were dead. And then I get some half-assed letter saying not to contact you again?” I hurl the container without looking at it. Jack tries to dodge, but I guessed correct this time and the bars smack him in the chest.
“Direct hit,” Mae crows. “Here’s another one— Hey, wait a sec.”
At Mae’s yelp, I turn and see two apron-clad young men trying to corral her. I lunge to help my friend but lose my footing. I can feel my uncoordinated body tip forward. A scream flies out of my throat. Mae reaches for me, but she’s too far away. Like a giant tree, I start falling.
“Omigod omigod omigod!” Mae wails.
“Holy shit!” someone else cries.
“Help,” I say, but I fear it’s too late. The floor is rushing toward me. I cover my sore belly. The C-section scar aches, so I twist as best as I can with my extra twenty post-pregnancy pounds hanging around my mid-section. As I fall, I hear a deep grunt and feel a pair of strong hands push me upright.
“You,” I snarl, but my words are cut off when I feel the stitches break. I look down to see blood seeping through my shirt. “You ruined my clothes.”
“She just had a baby. Call 9-1-1! She’s bleeding.” Mae wrestles away from her captors.
“This is your fault,” I inform the dark-haired man cradling me.
“I know it is.”
“You know?” I can’t believe this.
“You did say I got you pregnant.”
Those are the last words I hear before I pass out.
Chapter Two
“It’s a misunderstanding,” Jack explains to one of the two police officers that arrived on the scene at the request of the store manager. “There’s no harm done.”
He says this with a straight face despite the produce aisle looking like a tornado whipped through it. The avocado section is decimated and the tiled floor has taken on a sickly green hue. Streaks of red have painted the display case of cakes and pastries.
The police officer, though, appears totally snowed by Jack’s explanation. I should be unsurprised. After all, wasn’t it Jack’s ability to talk that had me dropping my skirt to the floor just a few hours after we’d first met?
“How exactly do you two know each other?” The tall, thin officer taps his pen against his electronic notepad.
I try to struggle to my feet
Mae unhelpfully steps in. “He’s the rat—
“—rather tall man who ran into my grocery cart,” I interject in a hurry. Mae crosses her arms and scowls, displaying an uncanny resemblance to my baby. Both of them have a very sullen set to their lips, which signals an impending tantrum—not that I can judge them. Obviously, I couldn’t hold it together when faced with my awful ex, but he’s been staring at Anna in a way that makes me nervous. “Look, if there’s a fine or something, I’ll pay that, but I need to get my child home.”
Anna’s been whimpering like a lost child since I roused. I told her that I just closed my eyes for a little nap, but the worried look on her face hasn’t left. I need to get her out of his sight. The last thing I need to deal with is some stupid custody battle. Anna’s mine and mine alone. This man—this penishead—doesn’t have any right to her. What I should have done when I saw him was grab Anna and book out of the grocery store. We’d be safe then.