Page 9 of A Cowboy Home for Christmas
She drops the tree. “What the hell are you doing here?”
My gaze glides over my shoulder to find my brother’s mistress standing behind me. His pregnant mistress.
Chapter Three
LAUREN
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HATRED BURNS MY soul. I can’t tear my eyes away from her protruding middle. That’s my husband’s baby she’s carrying. My twin’s half-sibling. The last legacy of Gunnar Beckett.
“Aunt Alison!” My girls squeeze between me and the doorframe. They dash past me to hug my ex-best friend.
“Christmas is only five days away.” Lark has been counting the days for two months. “And I asked Santa for an iPad.”
“Me too.” Clara twirls her pigtail braid, while her feet dance on the spot. “But I want a pink case.”
“I want a case that matches my bedroom,” Lark says.
Alison glances at me as she replies. Her pleading look curdles my insides. “What color is your bedroom, Lark?”
“I can’t decide. It’s gonna be canary yellow or Tiffany blue.”
“Both sound lovely.” Alison’s sweet voice only grits my nerves.
A bazillion things I want to shout at her crowd my mind. They sit on the tip of my tongue. But I don’t do it. I can’t. Not in front of my girls.
Lark tilts her head, and her gaze zeroes in on Alison’s stomach. “Are you pregnant?”
“Yes.” At least she looks uncomfortable when she replies.
“You’re having a baby?” Clara claps. “When?”
“Any day now.”
My head does the math. Nine months pregnant. Six months since my husband died. That leaves three months she lied to my face.
