Page 70 of Tear Me to Pieces
“She wants kids.” I can’t pull my eyes away as Myra gazes down at her niece. “So do I.”
Christian snorts. “You’ve wanted kids since we were eighteen.” His eyes slide my way. “It’s probably about time you got some.”
I drink in the sight of Myra holding a baby, the smile on her face making my chest ache. Everything I’ve gone through—all the pain-and-suffering and loss—led to this moment.
This woman.
“I don’t disagree.” I keep my response short and simple.
I’m not sure what Myra’s told Lydia about us. How much of our situation she’s explained. And until I figure that out, I’m not offering any of it to Christian. He’s my brother, but he’s also a husband, and I know for a fact he will tell Lydia every single bit of anything I might confess.
Reluctantly, Myra gives the baby one last look before passing her back to Lydia. “She’s perfect.”
I hold my position as Myra and Lydia say their goodbyes, letting her lead this whole experience. She’s the only reason I’m here, witnessing this private moment. It’s about Myra meeting her niece, not me getting a peek at my future.
Even if both happened.
After a few more minutes, Myra turns to me, smile wide and hopeful. “Are you ready to go?”
“I’m ready whenever you are.” I manage to stop myself from calling herSweetheartorBaby. But just barely.
Myra comes straight to me, surprising me by sliding her hand into mine in a blatant show of connection and affection I’m not prepared for.
But I’m going to take it and hold on tight.
I don’t miss the way Lydia’s eyes track us and our intertwined fingers as we cross to the door. Myra gives her one last smile before we cross through the door and out into the quiet hall. We’re barely a few doors down before Myra’s gaze comes to me. “What did Christian say to you?”
“He said it was awful having to watch Lydia go through labor.” I don’t even consider holding back. It’s how I know Christian would tell Lydia anything I told him. Because I’ll do the same with Myra.
Myra’s brow furrows as she studies me. “Does that make you want to change your mind?”
I pull her closer as we get in the elevator, tucking her body tight against my side as a group of doctors in scrubs files in behind us. Leaning in her ear so they don’t get to participate in our conversation, I ask, “Do you mean, have I decided I don’t want a baby because you’ll have to suffer to make it happen?”
Myra nods up at me, eyes wide. “Yeah.”
I shake my head, sliding a bit of her blonde hair behind one ear. “No. I haven’t changed my mind.” Brushing my thumb across her cheek, I add on, “But I can’t make any promises I won’t act like a complete fucking fool when you’re suffering.”
I’ve waited so long for her. Shown patience I didn’t think I possessed. I can’t fathom my reaction to seeing her in pain.
But I don’t expect it will be remotely reasonable.
“Maybe they can give you an epidural too.” Myra pokes me in the stomach. “Or maybe just a sedative.”
I chuckle, her joke easing just a little of the pressure already building in my chest over the prospect of watching Myra suffer through childbirth. “Luckily I have a while to prepare for it.”
“I guess that depends on how long you consider a while.” Myra gives me a sweet smile before pointing out a truth that sends my stomach dropping to my boots. “Technically, I could already be pregnant.”
“I really appreciateyou letting us use this place.” Butch tosses his bag and Becca’s onto one of the sofas in my fifth-wheel.
“It’s a limited time offer. I’ll be leaving in a few weeks for a job in Florida, but it gives you a little time to come up with another option.” I feel sick just talking about leaving. Would back out of the Florida job in a heartbeat if I could. But they’d never find a replacement in time and the whole project would be fucked sideways. I don’t want to leave Myra, but I’m not going to screw over a whole team of people because of it.
“Hopefully this will all be over before then and it won’t matter.” Butch drops down to sit beside the bags, catching his head in his hands. “I’m not sure how much more of this Becca can handle. She’s fucking wasting away right in front of me and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
I understand his struggle. More than he knows.
But I also understand something he doesn’t.
“I don’t know if you saw, but that little woman fearlessly smacked me across the face with her flip-flop.” I chuckle a little at the memory. “She might be struggling, but she’s not going to break.”
