Diane's POV
I checked my phone for the hundredth time, anxiety curling tight in my stomach. Would Andrew make it by five as promised? The black sedan that had followed me earlier was still fresh in my mind, an unsettling shadow trailing my thoughts. Every few minutes, my hand found my belly, as if my touch alone could shield the twins from whatever unseen danger lurked beyond Joan's front door.
My phone chimed with a message.
Andrew. "Just wrapped up at the office. Ready to head your way for dinner. Could you send Joan's address?"
"It's Andrew," I murmured, reading the message aloud.
"Go ahead and send it to him," Joan said, barely looking up from where she was arranging the dining table.
I quickly typed out her address and hit send before setting my phone aside. Despite the terrifying events of the morning, dinner was still happening. A sense of normalcy—or at least the illusion of it—was necessary.
