“They shouldn’t.” It’s simple and true.
She just looks at me for a long moment. I hold her gaze. Letting her see the truth. I’m not a hero. I’m just a raging lunatic.
“I think you’re wrong about yourself.” She nods, as if she’s reached a strong conclusion. “Maybe your refusal to admit you’re a hero is why you’re such a good one. No one likes an egomaniac.”
I laugh. “Fair enough. Why did you join Joyful Justice?” I ask. “I don’t get the sense it was because of me.”
She smiles. “Not exactly, no. Dan is amazing. I’d work with him on any project—and this is a good one.”
“You two met online, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah.” She turns her gaze to the ocean and falls silent.
“I’m guessing you met through Anonymous…” She shrugs noncommittally. “Which you wouldn’t be able to admit due to some secretive code.” She smiles but doesn’t say anything. “Okay, fine. Well, I’m glad you’re on our team.”
“Me too, I’d hate to be using my genius for evil.”
We both laugh at that. “You really think technology can save the planet?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s our only hope.” A twinkle in the distance pulls my focus. Mulberry’s plane. “When are you due?” Rebecca asks.
I blink, turning to her. “A few months,” I answer.
“You getting a doula?”
“A what now?”
“My sister got a doula, she said it was the best decision she ever made. It’s someone who helps you through the birth—like a coach. Not a doctor or midwife, but someone who helps with the mental side.”
“Oh…”
“I can check the personnel files and see if there is anyone who’s trained as a doula.”
“Thanks,” I say. “That’s nice of you.”
“No problem. My sister has three kids. She knows about having babies.”
I almost ask if I can talk with her sister but bite my tongue. “Thanks,” I say again instead. “I should get going.”
I rise to stand and she lifts her now-empty coffee cup in a salute. “Nice talking with you.”
“Yeah, you too. And if you think of a way to burn society down in time to save the planet let me know.”
She laughs. “Will do.”
Blue, Nila, and Frank follow me back down the jungle path. We enter the building and head to the garage. When I open the van’s side door, Frank leaps in and manages to settle on the first row of seats without incident. Nila jumps in after him, and he nuzzles her. She nips him and he gets so excited that he flips off the seat. Nila growls at him and he stays on the floor, laying down, as though it was his plan all along.
I’m grinning as Blue and I get in the front seat. Nothing like some comic relief from my dog to lighten the worry of our broken society and planet. Did the first humans to tame wolves know how vital they’d become to our well-being? It seems impossible. But as I drive through the tunnels and make my way onto the dirt path, headed for the airstrip, I keep smiling, buoyed by my dogs’ presence.
As I pull up onto the tarmac, I see the Cessna touch down lightly on the landing strip, the small plane bouncing as it slows to a stop. Blue hops out of the van with me and I leave the door open as I wait for Mulberry to deplane.
Sun hits the windshield, hiding the passengers as it taxis toward the hangar. It disappears inside and I wait, my stomach churning on my coffee. Mulberry appears—the sun hitting him so strongly that he holds up a hand even though he’s wearing sunglasses.
His white T-shirt rides up his arm, exposing the hard lines of his biceps. The memory of those arms around me—of how I got pregnant in the first place—rushes through my mind in vivid, filthy detail. He turns back and says something I can’t hear from this distance. Then he starts down the tarmac.
Mulberry catches sight of me, his lips widening into a broad smile. I return it, the churning in my stomach twisting into excitement. He’s carrying a small duffel and wearing worn blue jeans. The wind plays with his hair, tousling it. His jaw is coated in a thick layer of stubble. His beard grows fast so all this growth is probably just since he left Costa Rica.
Ten feet from me, Mulberry drops the bag; it lands with a soft thwap on the pavement. He pulls off his sunglasses and slips them into his back pocket, still coming at me, no break in his stride. I push off the van, expectation making me move.
Then he’s in front of me, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps coming, right into me, and then those arms—those big, crazy strong arms of his—wrap around me. He pulls me up and into him, finding my lips with his and kissing me.
It’s not the sweet kiss of a friend, or the familiar kiss of a lover; it’s desperate, almost pained. His hands splay on my back, one rising up and cradling my head. My knees go weak with the heat pouring off of him. The pained need that he’s communicating finds an answering call inside of me and my own hands dive into his hair, holding him tight.
It wasn’t what I expected—this instant heat, connection, and just…wow. My phone rings, sounding far away in the front of the van. We both ignore it. The kiss goes on. I’m getting light-headed. Mulberry pulls back, still close, looking down into my face. His hazel eyes glitter blue, mimicking the colors of the sky behind him.
Neither of us speak. Words are often the enemy with the two of us. This…our physical connection, has never been a question. The first time we slept together, I was angry, lost in grief, itching for a fight. Mulberry met me there, big enough, and strong enough, to accept all my pain, my anger, and let me thrash at him.
When we made our son, it was his pain we shared. His grief and anger. I met him, not with comfort, but with power. With strength. As he’d always done for me. We share something that is beyond words, intangible yet invincible.
My phone rings again and again, and we ignore it. Mulberry is staring down into my eyes, his open and searching. Our son moves inside me and Mulberry’s eyes widen as he feels it against his own stomach. “Was that?” he asks, his voice awed. I nod. He steps back, his hands loosening, leaving my back and both coming to land on my belly.
Our son punches out and Mulberry’s eyes brighten, his mouth opens, and the joy radiating off the man makes my heart beat faster and my head feel even lighter. I sway slightly and his eyes jump to my face, concern etching his brow into lines.
“I’m okay,” I say.
His eyes narrow. “Are you sure?”
“I just…” My vision spots and Mulberry steps into me, steadying my body.
