It was late afternoon, the sun already hidden behind two of the taller buildings, and in the shadows of the city this morning’s cheerful warmth had disappeared. Above, the sky was still blue and cloudless, but the hidden sinking sun had robbed it of its attraction and Laurie felt cold, lonely, and curiously uneasy as she walked down the littered sidewalk toward her neighborhood. There were a lot of cars on the street but very few pedestrians, and something about it all didn’t seem right to her.

Maybe she was pregnant. Maybe her hormones were all out of whack and affecting her emotions.

Twenty minutes later, she was out of the downtown business district and passing through an interim area of old buildings and Victorian homes that had been converted into boutiques and coffeehouses when she saw up ahead, parked by the curb in front of Starbuck’s, Matt’s Mustang.

Her heart started racing. Maybe it wasn’t Matt’s. Maybe it was someone else’s, someone who had the same car in the same color and a similar bumper sticker on the back window. She took a few steps forward, then stopped, looking at the license plate.

It was Matt’s.

What was he doing here? He didn’t even like coffee.

He was probably here on a date.

But why was he staying this close to her neighborhood? She’d expected him to keep as far away from her as possible, had assumed that out of common decency he’d relocate to another area of the city. The last thing she figured he’d do was hang around here. Didn’t he have any shame?

Maybe the bitch he was with lived in this area.

That would make sense. He’d probably met the slut when he’d been off one day, cruising around the neighborhood, pretending to work on his art, while she really had been at work at Automated Interface.

She thought of waiting for him by his car, embarrassing him, causing a scene, informing him loudly in front of a group of strangers that she was pregnant, but she knew that was just a fantasy. Even now, looking at his car, her heart was pounding so hard it was interfering with her breathing, and there was no way she could get up enough nerve to face him. Not now. Not yet.

She considered continuing down the sidewalk, pretending as though she hadn’t noticed, ignoring him if he happened to walk out to his car at the exact moment she passed by, but she decided against it and opted for crossing the street and cutting down the alley that led to Union.