Page 42 of Ghost of a Chance
Barney rolled his eyes. “What’s next?”
Brad glanced back at the walls, bent to pick up the level, only to pause at the screech from above that was loud enough to senda chill down Brad’s spine. “What the fuck,” he shouted, already running for the stairs leading up from the basement.
There, in a heap at the entrance to the café kitchen, was Hector, out cold, and an ashen-looking Morty clinging to Toby.
“What is it? Is it the baby?” Wasn’t it too early? Brad was clueless about such things. His gaze moved between the two men assessing exactly who had screeched when no one seemed inclined to answer him.
“My water broke,” Morty panted, sweat popping out on his forehead, then Toby became pale, his eyes darting to Morty’s legs. “I got a little freaked out, and I scared Hector into a dead faint.”
Brad had to bite his lip, and hard, because it was that or burst out laughing at how Morty looked at his mate. It was a cross between pissed and highly amused.
He couldn’t say which would win out right then.
Brad figured out one thing, they couldn’t have the baby here. “Vene, you help me get Hector up. Toby, the bedroom in the upstairs apartment is finished, and I believe the bed that arrived has been set up, so let’s take Morty there.”
Morty was shaking his head before Brad had finished speaking, making his tummy dip and dive. “I’m not ruining a brand new mattress.”
Morty wore a look of determination, and Brad didn’t consider trying to argue with how pale he was and when his eyes held hints of pain. “Okay, then we use the bathroom, the boys cleaned it last Thursday after they’d finished fitting the wall cabinets. I’m sure there’s a sack of towels bundled up in one of the storage closets.”
“I’ll get them,” Niall said, appearing in the kitchen.
“Who’s going to run the café?” Morty gasped, a hand clutching at the apron, his belly rippling beneath.
“I asked Lydia to hold the fort over the lunchtime rush,” Niall replied. “The shelves are stocked”—Niall grinned cheekily at Morty—“and it’s not like you’ll be baking anything else. She can work the coffee machine. I’ll close up after that.” He directed that to Toby.
“You can stay with Morty, I’ll close up,” he said lightning fast.
“No, it’s all good.” Niall was backing away from them, hands up. “I’ll leave it to the experts and go grab the towels.”
“E-experts,” Toby stuttered and, if at all possible, got paler than skimmed milk.
“It’s fine, I’ll stay and help,” Brad offered, seeing that the friends were about to argue. Brad’s poodle was right there showing an interest.
This is great. It will help prepare us for when we have babies.
Prepare who? You won’t be the one giving birth.Brad pointed out sarcastically.
Insignificant details.
If you say so.
“Morty,” Hector moaned, “Morty, where’s Morty?” His eyes fluttering open.
“Right here, Hector. Come on, love, we’re about to have a baby.”
Brad skipped back as Hector jumped up so fast the room must have been spinning as he banged off the wall and nearly collided with Morty.
Vene reached out at the same time as Brad to steady Hector. They both held an arm and, after one glance at each other, guided Hector towards the back of the kitchen to the entrance of the apartment above. “Toby, you bring Morty.”
Preoccupied with Morty, it took Brad minutes to sense that something was off with Lionel. The distance meant he couldn’t quite figure out what or if it was actually Lionel or just what was going on with Hector and Morty. He focused on Lionel, on theirconnection, and his stomach took a nosedive. Nausea came and went, but a fluttering in the pit of his stomach remained.
He got the urge to ring Lionel, but Morty chose then to screech once more, and all chaos let loose.
Everyone working on site seemed to appear, and all had views on what Morty needed. Niall had deposited the towels and had disappeared quicker than sand in an egg timer.
Morty had made friends with all of Brad’s men, and it amused and frustrated him when they didn’t seem to understand they needed to keep working in the places where that could happen. The baby was coming on its own timeline despite Brad’s plan.
“You lot go, Morty doesn’t need an audience.” Brad added with so much authority to his voice, the bathroom cleared in thirty seconds by his estimation.
