Esme
THREE MONTHS LATER—A SMALL TOWN NEAR TIJUANA, MEXICO
“Emily?”
I balance the tray on my huge belly and try to sidestep Sara, the other waitress, as she rushes past me to the kitchen. There’s a mess at table three I need to sort out and a couple at table four who’ve been trying to flag me down for the last ten minutes.
“Emily?”
I can see the annoyance on the couple’s faces but I really need to get table one their dinner. Jose got their order wrong the first time, so they’ve had to wait an extra half hour for the right meals. Which of course means they’re snippy and hungry.
And since they can’t see Jose, I’m the outlet for their annoyance.
“Emily!”
Fuck.
I’m still not used to the name I go by now. My reaction time is slower than I’d like to admit.
I turn to find Ruby, my manager, staring daggers at me. My arms are already screaming from holding three plates each.
“I’ve been trying to get your attention for, like, ever,” she snaps.
Her bright red lips are pursed with irritation and a lock of strawberry blonde hair has come loose from its usually pristine topknot.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m a little backed-up here.” I fidget back and forth to readjust my weight on my feet.
Ruby’s eyes fall to my stomach and then back up to my face. “When are you due by the way?”
Fuck, again.
“I’ve got a month to go,” I lie smoothly.
“Are you sure?” Ruby asks. “You look huge.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say, trying to make light of my discomfort. “Just what every girl dreams of hearing.”
I had a month to go—a whole damn month ago. According to my doctor, as of this morning, my due date is five days in the rearview mirror. I should be resting at home, swollen feet propped up.
But I need the paycheck from the diner, shitty as it is.
“You know what I mean,” Ruby sighs, rolling her eyes.
“Um, Ruby, hold that thought for a sec, will ya?” I plead. I’m on the verge of dropping all the plates in my hand. That would really piss off the angry couple. “Let me get this order to table one and I’ll be right back. Pinky promise.”
“Fine,” she says. “Be quick about it.”
I nod and waddle to table one, intentionally steering clear of table three so that I can avoid the mess a little longer.
“Hey, guys,” I apologize. “Really sorry about the wait.”
The couple just clucks their teeth in irritation. At least their look happy to see me.
“Did you bring my curly fries?” the boy chirps.
“Right here, little man,” I say, giving him my best smile.
He blushes a little as he accepts the fries. His sister doesn’t look as happy with her sloppy joe, but she lights up when I put down a side of potato wedges.