Page 81 of Mister Cowboy
“Have you picked out names?” she asked, pushing aside her own feelings to focus on Sylvie’s happiness.
Sylvie nodded and smiled. “Yes. If it’s a gir—Oh, motherf’er—” Sylvie’s forehead crinkled, and she laid a hand on her stomach.
January stilled. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Yes. It’s only Braxton Hicks.”
“Braxta What?”
She stood straighter and blew out a long breath. “They’re practice contractions. Less regular and less painful than the real thing. Or so I’m told.”
“That one looked pretty painful.”
Her hand went back to her stomach, and she stared down, taking slow, deep breaths. “I think maybe I should sit for a moment.”
“Here let me help you.” January grabbed an elbow and led her to the large white armchair situated in the corner.
Sylvie sat with a groan. “I can’t believe I still have another two weeks until this little monster makes an appearance. I don’t think I can do this again. My body has been taken over by a little terrorist.”
“You say that now, but when that little angel comes out, you’ll be singing a different tune.”
Sylvie smiled at the idea as if it were ridiculous that she would ever forget her current misery. “Yeah, you’re probably right. What about you, you gonna be all right?”
“Me?” January asked, surprised. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. I just need some time, and to kick Nadia’s ass.”
“I know you aren’t going to like this, but I think Michael’s right. You’re taking it out on the wrong person. I don’t like the little wench any more than you do, but she is who she is. Brecken is the one that screwed this up—not her.”
“I know,” she admitted sadly. “But hating her is so much easier.”
“You want him back?”
“It doesn’t matter. Even if I wanted to work things out, which I’m not sure I do, he’s made it very clear he does not. Nadia is going to be a part of his life forever. She’s going to get to have all these things with him that I can’t compete with. She’s going to get all of this with him.” January lifted her arms, looking around the perfectly decorated nursery and imagined Brecken sitting on the floor putting together a crib or painting the walls.
“All of this,” Sylvie waved her arms around, “doesn’t mean anything without love. She may have this, but you have his hear—ouch.” Her hand flew back to her stomach, and she closed her eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, tentatively.
“I’m pretty sure it’s nothing, but can you help me downstairs? Drinking water always seems to help get rid of Braxton Hicks.”
“Of course.” January stood and held out her hand. Sylvie sat forward and placed a hand in hers, standing slowly.
They walked only a few steps when Sylvie stopped, a slow smile lifting the corners of her lips. “You’re a good friend.”
“I’m excited for you. I can’t wait to meet my little buddy,” she said, talking down to Sylvie’s belly.
“Good, because I think the baby is excited to meet you, too.”
She looked up at Sylvie, wondering what in the world gave her that idea. “My water just broke.”
44
Brecken
Brecken sat on the couch, beer in hand, staring at the box at his feet. It was too damn early to be awake, let alone drinking. Surely one box couldn’t possibly contain anything that could hurt him any worse than he was already hurting, could it? Taking a swig of his beer, January’s face filled his thoughts. It was burned into his brain. He’d woken up in a cold sweat with those haunted eyes his only memory of the dream.
The sun was still buried behind the mountains and outside the city slept peacefully. Oh, what he’d give for that—a night of peace where he wasn’t haunted by his father’s mistakes or his own. My how the tides had turned.
Setting the bottle on the coffee table with aclink, he pried the top flaps of the box open and looked inside.
