Page 24 of His Perfect Little Heirs

I freeze up as Stone stares at his ice cream, now upside down on the concrete, the rainbow colours mingling into a stream of sludge.

Just as Stone’s eyes well up, Bronson hands him his cone. Stone beams. He has a quick turnaround, that kid. Just like his dad. Knowing what is coming, I scoop Stone up and walk in the opposite direction to Bronson.

Stopping a few meters ahead, I turn back to watch my six-foot-five tattooed, borderline insane lover stalk the man down the footpath and push him through a shop window.

Just. Like. That.

As casual as a pat on the back.

Leaning in through the window now bordered by broken glass needles, Bronson casually says, “Must have slipped on ice cream, mate.”

The shopkeeper gasps but doesn’t approach. She knows who Bronson Butcher is. The man on the floor shakes with confusion. Bronson offers him his hand, helping him back through the glass like he didn’t just shove him through it. The man blinks at the sidewalk, a haze of uncertainty in the slow batting of his lashes. The “what just happened” is evident in his wide, searching gaze.

Bronson brushes off the man’s shirt before ambling back towards me with a smirk on his lips and a single dimple displayed that gentrifies his mischievous nature.

He’s actually pleased with himself.

I suppose for Bronson, that was a mild response to the situation. He reaches me. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll send Mrs Pannell some money for the window in the morning.”

His grin causes my insides to flip around. “Put your dimple away,” I order, shaking my head as he joins my stride, and we continue down the sidewalk.

We don’t get far before I suddenly feel like I need to pee, and then water slides down my legs and pain shoots through my abdomen.

Placing Stone down, I keel over and hold my stomach as cramps bear down around my pelvis like a vice squeezing me.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“Baby?” Bronson’s voice reaches me inside the pain fog, but I can’t move a muscle against the onslaught of the contractions.

God, this is fast.

Within a moment, I’m swept into his arms, and he’s walking with me inside a coffee shop and sitting me in a booth.

“Call us an ambulance, quickly, like a bunny.” I hear him say, provoking a young girl to rush out of sight, and he’s back facing me. His eyes trained and ready. I try to focus.

Stone?

Where is Stone?

I wince.“Stone.”

“Mummy?” His sweet voice answers my question, but I can’t talk or see straight or focus—God.

“Stone, you have a really important job, little buddy. You ready to be a big brother?”

He nods. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. You’re on watch. Lord Commander of the Ambulance Watch.” Bronson points to the glass doors. “Sit right next to the door and wait for the ambulance. Don’t take your eyes off the road. Got it?”

“Got it!” Stone plonks down outside the door, in clear view of us both but far enough away to blind him to the sight of me and what is happening very fast.

I close my eyes and breathe.

Bronson strokes his fingertips down my face, along the bridge of my nose and down to the bow of my lips. “I’m here, my beautiful Shoshanna. I’m here.”

Time passes, but the contractions are rolling together, too intense, and the medical professional in me knows we don’t have much time.

Fuck.

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