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“No, no. Don’t leave her. A car is fine. See you soon.” It’s so weird to say those words when I never thought I’d see him again. Now, I’ll be back in his arms in a matter of moments.
No, Rhett. You will not be in his arms. You will be by Ashely’s side, far, far away from his big, strong, warm, protective, sexy arms.
I think of labor pains. I think of placentas. I think of babies crying. Anything to steer my thoughts away from his beautiful body.
I push away the memory of his earthy, musky smell, equal parts warm skin and testosterone mingled with the clean, signature fragrance he often wears.
The feel of his lips against mine.
I leave the office, reaching to the wall for my coat. Hank comes lumbering up to me. “Where do you think you’re going, little bit?”
“I’m so sorry to do this, Hank, but I’ve got to go. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” I think fast, trying to appease him. “Aren’t you looking for someone to pick up a shift on Saturday? I’ll take it. I’ll be here at eight a.m.”
He eyes me, cocking a bushy gray brow. I hold my breath, awaiting his decision. There’s still a chance he tells me I’m not allowed to leave.
“Make it seven,” he rumbles.
“Deal.” I hop on tiptoe, throwing my arms around his neck. I give him a big squeeze. “See you Saturday.”
“Get out of here.” Warm emotion seeps through his tone as he hugs me back. He releases me. “And get yourself a burger while you’re out. You’re nothing but skin and bones.”
I have to laugh at Hank. I’m an average-sized woman but he acts like I’m a tiny thing. As long as he thinks I’m strong and a good worker, I don’t care.
I shrug into my coat, zipping it up to my chin. I step outside into the gray winter morning and wait.
My breath swirls in the cold air. The wispy white thread reminds me of the breath I first breathed into Beckett’s lungs that day he lay dying on the street.
What a fool I was. To think I would never see him again.
It’s obvious… fate has other plans for us.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Beckett
I’m going to have to pay to have the damn hospital floors refinished, I’m pacing the halls so hard. “Where is she?”
“When is Rhett coming?” Ashely’s voice cries from the private suite Bachmans have on permanent reserve. Ashely spent her entire life, up till Boston, relying on herself. I’ve never heard her this needy before.
I pop my head into her room. “Any minute, Ashely. She’ll be here any minute.”
Boston’s sitting at her side, dressed more appropriately for a night out on the town than a birth, in his black button-down and pants. An ankle crossed over his knee, his black Doc Martens bounces up and down as he squeezes A’s hand. His face is pale behind his angel wing tattoo.
The doctor walks by. I grab his arm. “She sounds like she’s in pain. Can we get her something?”
He eyes me like I’m crazy. “She’s not in any pain. She’s not even close to active labor yet.”
“Huh? She’s not having the baby?”
Ashely’s been screaming her head off about the importance of getting Rhett here for over an hour.
“She is, she’s currently at one centimeter, but it could be hours, days even. We’re very early in the process.” He gives my shoulder an iron-clad pat. He glances at the silver watch on his wrist. “I’ll be back to check on her in a bit.”
Confused, I dip back into the room, perching my ass on the edge of the lavish king-size bed. The Beauties decorated this place like a Parisian hotel, all creams and golds, instead of the hospital room that it is.
I stare at my sister. Today, her face is fresh, makeup free. Her blonde curls are piled on top of her head. She stares at me intently with her baby blue eyes. “Well,” she says. “Where is she?”
“Why do you want Rhett here, anyway, A? She’s been out of our lives for, like, six months.”
