The Big Keep: A Lena Dane Mystery (Lena Dane Mysteries) by Melissa F. Olson

raised.
    “I know this is a little weird and all, but...did you like your OB-GYN?”

7. Broccoli. Gross.

    I got to experience my very first round of morning sickness that very night.  
    I made turkey meatloaf, and Toby and I had dinner in the Big Glorious Kitchen, as usual. While we ate I told him about the Emersons and visiting Nate’s house, and my promise to a dying Tom Christianti. When I was done he took my hand and pulled me out of my chair and over into his lap. I rested my head on his shoulder. For a long moment, I let go of the case and the pregnancy and the Emersons and just breathed it in, the special equation that Toby and I balanced out together.
    “Baby,” he finally murmured against my hair. “Are you sure you’re up for this case? Another kid in trouble?”
    Jerking to attention, I sat up, craning my head back to see his face. “What do you mean?”
    “I don’t know.” He reached up and traced my eyebrows gently with one thumb. “I know the Carrie Emerson case was hard on you, and even harder because you couldn’t find the guys.”
    “I tried everything -” I began.
    “I know you did,” he interrupted. “But first it was the Amanda Rink case, and then Carrie Emerson, and now this Nate kid. I’m just not sure it’s good for you.”
    I got up from his lap and sat stiffly back down in my own seat. “Those cases aren’t good for anyone,” I reminded him. “Especially Amanda and Carrie. But someone has to speak for them, and for Nate.”
    “I don’t disagree. But I’m just not sure it should be you.” His eyes were full of concern, and I knew he was just trying to protect me. But it rankled anyway.
    “This is my job, Toby,” I told him, trying to sound patient and reasonable. “This is what I do now. I can’t hand off a case because it might be sad.”
    “I think ‘sad’ is kind of an understatement,” he said, his voice heating a little. “These cases are consuming for you. It’s only been a couple of weeks since you stopped living and breathing Carrie Emerson. There are other investigators in Chicago, Lean. All I’m saying is, maybe one of them would do better with this Nate kid.”
    Fury prickled through my nerve endings, and I had the overwhelming urge to move. I stood, picking up both of our plates. I stalked over to the sink. “I can handle this case just fine,” I snapped over my shoulder.
    “You say that now,” Toby said gently, “but then I have to pick up the pieces when it tears you up.”
    I set the plate I was holding down very, very carefully and turned around. “That was low,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down. “This is is who I am. You don’t get to pick and choose the parts of me that you’re willing to support.”
    “That doesn’t mean you have to go looking for these brutal cases!” he retorted. Then he sighed, giving me a look that was more sad than angry. “You don’t...you don’t have to do this penance, you know. What happened to those girls wasn’t your fault.”
    I threw up my hands. He would bring the cops into this again. “I’m not doing penance, and I didn’t pick this case! This kid picked me.”
    He wasn’t budging. He wasn’t even moving, in fact, just sitting calmly in his chair at the table. That’s Toby. Stoic to a fucking fault. “Why don’t you want kids, Selena?”
    That stopped me short. I felt the color seep out of my face. Did he know? Had Rory told him? No, even Rory wouldn’t do that. This had to be something else. “I never said I didn’t want kids,” I answered carefully. In fact, I’m pregnant right now was on the tip of my tongue, but it didn’t feel right. Needing something to do with my hands, I picked up a rag and began to wipe the counter furiously.
    Toby stood up and was next to me before I could turn around. He placed a muscled forearm on either side of me, trapping me against the sink.  
    “Selena.” I didn’t look at him.
    “Selena Kyle. We need to talk about this.”
    “No,”