Somebody Like You by Beth K. Vogt

she’d have to paint come summer. How soon before Shelton notified her about that? Patches of leftover snow dotted the faded brown grass, and she had no idea what, if anything, would bloom in the flower bed beneath the front bay window.
    She tucked her hands into the pockets of Sam’s coat as a breeze whipped past her. Exercise was good for her and the baby—or so her doctor said. But now she was ready for a nap. Resting was good, too. From what everyone said, she was goingto get precious little sleep once her son was born. She appreciated the few hours each day when she slept soundly and didn’t have to think about her life—what she’d lost and what she had to face by herself.
    Just as she reached her neighbor’s house, a red Mustang entered the cul-de-sac. Haley stood and watched as it looped past her and pulled into her driveway, the shadow of an achingly familiar face flashing past her in the driver’s window.
    What is Stephen Ames doing here, God? Hadn’t she done the right thing—the sacrificial thing—by agreeing to have dinner with him last night? Couldn’t the man be grateful and leave her alone?
    He hopped out of the car dressed in a dark jacket and black jeans, then walked to the back and popped the trunk. Haley held her ground on the sidewalk out in front of the house. The first words that came to her mind were Get off my property. She counted to ten. “Don’t you have a job?”
    A slight improvement.
    “Excuse me?” Stephen looked over his shoulder, the winter sun creating highlights in his dark hair.
    “A job. Don’t you need to go to work?”
    He leaned into the trunk and pulled out a medium-size brown box, closing the trunk with his elbow. “Not at the moment.”
    “You need one.” Haley kept her voice low as she punched in the code to open the garage door.
    “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Stephen stood behind her, waiting while the garage door slid up.
    “Nothing.” Haley navigated the maze in her garage. Besides her car, boxes filled the space to overflowing. She wasn’t completely avoiding unpacking boxes—but she was avoiding going through Sam’s clothes and books. Anything that would cause herto face Sam again. One more huge, heartbreaking thing. There was always one more thing. Maybe by the time the baby was old enough to go to kindergarten she’d catch up with her life again.
    Stephen muttered about taking his life in his hands as he squeezed between her car and the teetering pile of cardboard boxes. He didn’t answer her “don’t you need to go to work” inquiry until they passed through the laundry room, stepping over the pile of dirty towels, and stood in the kitchen.
    “I’m job hunting.”
    “Oh. Good luck.” Was she supposed to ask him why—as if she was interested in his life? Right now the only coherent message her brain was telegraphing was spelled N-A-P.
    Stephen lifted the box that he held in his arms a few inches. “I brought a present. For the baby.”
    “What? Why?” Was the man trying to bribe her into talking about Sam?
    He kept talking, turning the box so she could see the brightly colored photograph on the front of the box. “It’s a toddler swing.”
    Haley pointed at the photo of a smiling little boy sitting in a bright blue swing, seemingly suspended in midair. “A newborn can’t use that.”
    “I know.” Stephen walked to the bay window in the living room. “But the other day when I was here I noticed that great old tree beside the garage. And I thought that it needed a swing, for when the baby’s older.”
    “Oh.” Haley shook her head. Exhaustion had reduced her vocabulary to one word. What was pregnancy doing to her brain? Even if she was falling asleep standing up, she could still be polite. “Thank you.”
    “I read about it online. It got great customer reviews and it’s good for kids from nine months to two years old, so you’ll get alot of use out of it. Sam and I had this old tire we used to swing from. We thought it