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Do Not Disturb(80)

Author:Freida McFadden

Of course, it’s busy every night these days. The restaurant went from being boarded up to eventually getting a steady stream of business, and last month, Nick got us a write up in a popular food blog, and now it’s gotten crazy busy. It can be a little stressful, but I love it.

A new waitress, Vanessa, comes to the pass with two new tables full of order tickets. Vanessa just started last month, but she’s been doing a good job. I reach for the tickets from the counter, which we had lowered to accommodate a person who can’t stand. The entire kitchen has been modified for me, although we left a lot of it the same because I’m running the kitchen and not doing the cooking anymore. I make sure every plate that leaves the kitchen is up to my standards. This isn’t just a side of the road diner. This is something better—something special. Or at least, I like to think it is.

“Everyone is enjoying their food?” I ask Vanessa.

She nods eagerly. “The tips are amazing tonight.”

I laugh. “Glad to hear it.”

After I call out the new tickets for my little brigade of cooks, I look up and see Nick standing at the entrance to the kitchen. He grins at me and gives me a little wave. “Is this a bad time?”

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s always a bad time. Why do you have to be so good at publicizing this place?”

“I don’t know. Why do you have to be so good a chef?”

I fold my arms across my chest, resting on my belly. “You’re the one at fault. I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He cocks his head to the side. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure because—”

“I’m fine, Nick.” I give him a look. “Stop worrying.”

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “But… I just can’t wait, you know?”

Nick doesn’t usually fret about me this way. Ever since that night I almost died, he’s pushed me like crazy. More than I wanted to be pushed some days. We went back to Dr. Heller and got me on some medications that helped a lot with my fatigue. And one that helped a lot with my depression as well. I should have taken the anti-depressants to begin with—I had no clue how dark my life had become until the fog lifted. And I got a power wheelchair to use outside of the house, so I didn’t have to use all my energy pushing myself around when fatigue was already an issue.

Once the depression was gone, I felt like myself again. And I couldn’t believe I had almost let my dreams slip away from me.

So the two of us set about getting it back. It was slow going the first year, but like last time, it eventually took off. This is the busiest Rosalie’s has ever been. We have people waiting for tables most nights.

So the timing couldn’t be worse. But is the timing ever perfect to have a baby? It doesn’t matter. Because like it or not, in one short month, Nick and I are going to be parents.

After what happened last time, I can’t entirely blame him for worrying. And this is a terrible time for me to be taking a maternity leave. One of my cooks is going to step up to help with expediting, but because funds are still tight, Nick is going to do it on the typically slower nights. I’ve been training him, and he’s actually not too bad at it. He might not be able to cook, but he knows good food. And he’s very organized and forceful when he needs to be.

“I can’t wait either.” I rest a hand on my baby bulge, which has gotten more and more unwieldy in the last couple of months. “But don’t worry. I’m okay. I promise.”

He crouches down next to me. He rests one of his hands on top of mine on my belly, then leans in and kisses me. I should be pushing out orders now, but it’s hard to resist my husband. After five years of essentially living like strangers, it’s like we’re on a new honeymoon.

It just took almost dying.

In the weeks after the incident, we finally got all the details, although it was mostly from reading them in the paper. The woman who showed up earlier in the night, Quinn Alexander, had just murdered her husband. She stabbed him in the belly, although there was significant evidence that she did it in self-defense. Nick told the police he saw bruises on her neck, and he assumed somebody had attacked her. Nick later ended up testifying in Quinn’s trial.

But it turned out that the husband was sleeping with Quinn’s sister, Claudia Delaney. And when the sister—apparently already a bit mentally unstable—discovered the dead body, she had a complete breakdown. Claudia set about finding Quinn, then exacting revenge on her. She stabbed Quinn, then put her in the trunk of her car, intending to get rid of the dead body.

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