Page 130 of The Renegade Billionaire
He rushes to her side. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, damn it. I have a bowling ball on my bladder. How does that sound to you?”
Pops, Cian, and I all grimace.
“Braxton.” She says my name with the vehemence of a curse. “Don’t you dare hire any other decorator. This job is mine. I’ve known Madi since we were nine years old. I know every dent and bump in this house because most of the time, I was the one getting into trouble with her, and I love this place as much as anyone.”
I hold up both hands. “That’s fine, Elle. The jobs yours.”
“Good,” she huffs. “And you,” she says in a deep, guttural voice that’s more demon than woman. “If I hear you trying to put me out of business again, you’ll walk around with blue balls for a year. A year.” She groans, and her knees tremble.
“Um, Elle? Are you in labor?” I ask.
“No, I’m not. It’s too early, she’s not due yet. And I think I’d know, and I’m not ready. I’m not ready. There’s too much shit to do, and?—”
We all glance down at the puddle that splashes to the floor beneath her.
“Holy shit. Your water broke.” Cian spins in a circle with one hand on his head, so I move to Elle’s side in case she falls over. “We practiced for this. I’m ready, you’re ready. The bag is ready. Oh my God. The bag is at home. Did you bring the bag, Elle? Did you?”
“Yeah, Cian. I waddled my fat ass over here with a bowling ball trying to push out of a pea-sized hole with my delivery bag slung over my shoulder. No, I didn’t bring the damn bag,” she shouts. Her eyes fly open and stare me down while she grips my hand in a crushing hold.
“Contraction,” I say. “Breathe, Elle. Breathe through it.”
“You fucking breathe through a pinhole, you fucker,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Hospital,” Cian says, running out the front door.
“He’s lost his mind,” Pops says with a chuckle.
“Cian O’Brien, get your big ass back in here and help me,” Elle shouts.
There’s a clatter on the porch that sounds like him falling up the stairs, and then he’s back in the doorway with both hands in his hair and sweat staining the front of his T-shirt.
“I’m going to be a da—a dad.”
“Cian, if you don’t get me to the hospital in time for an epidural, you’ll be known as sperm donor for the rest of your life. I will teach this giant-headed baby to call you sperm donor. I swear it.”
Flashbacks of Violet make my stomach heave. “Let’s go,” I demand. “Cian, pick her up and put her in my truck. I’ll drive.”
He doesn’t bat an eye at following my directions.
Pops’ hand lands on my forearm as I’m digging in my pocket for the keys. “It’s different this time, Braxton. Elle has had prenatal care, and they’re ready for this.”
He knows about Grey’s sister. It shouldn’t shock me, but it does. I nod in response because my throat is itchy and I think I might throw up.
Thank God Grey wasn’t here. I have no idea how he would react, but my gut says it wouldn’t be good.
“I’ll call Madi, you get them to the hospital.” Pops nudges me toward the door, and I move on autopilot.
Elle will be fine.
She has to be.
She has to be because I can’t go through this again—ever.
“Braxton?”
Madi rushes through the door with Pops in a wheelchair.
