“Are you feeling better?” Clara asked.
“Much. Thanks for the information last night about Braxton-Hicks. I spoke to my doctor this morning and she confirmed everything you said,” Lauren said.
“I remember my sister going through it. First time labors can drag on,” Clara said, feeling the tears gather in her eyes. She’d gone weeks without crying. The dam holding back the floodgates was chipping. “My sister was in labor twenty-three-and-a-half hours and pushing for a solid four of those.”
When silence filled the space, Clara looked up into shocked-looking eyes.
“Sorry. I’m not trying to scare you. They give you medicine so you don’t feel a thing if you don’t want to,” she quickly added. “Stella said it was weird not being able to feel her legs for a couple of hours but amazing that the labor pains weren’t bothersome.”
Lauren blew out a breath. “I made a Birthing Plan that says using meds are a last resort. I’m starting to rethink that decision after last night.”
“I’m sure it seemed worse than it was. You did great last night dealing with everything. You might surprise yourself in the delivery room,” Clara reassured. She remembered hearing all those stories from mothers who made labor and delivery sound worse than cracking someone’s chest open without the use of anesthesia and deliveries that had lasted half their lives. “And at the end of it you get to hold your baby. What could be better than that? You’ll forget all the pain when you look at his face.”
Those last words relaxed the taut lines across Lauren’s forehead. The warm smile returned.
There was an open quality to Lauren that Clara envied. She was certain it came with having someone so in love that he’d always be there for her.
Clara had never known that kind of feeling.
“I’m out of line here but I went through a rough patch a couple of years ago involving my brother.” Lauren’s sympathetic gaze chipped away more of the concrete wall in Clara’s chest. “I can see that you’re a strong person. Your niece is lucky to have you on her side.”
Another crack in the armor.
“Thank you,” Clara managed to say before clearing her throat and turning her attention toward the others.
“Coffee?” Daniel asked, holding out a fresh cup.
“Yes. Thank you.” She didn’t make eye contact as she took the offering. Her finger touched his hand by accident and electricity caused a tingling sensation at the tip. The vibration skittered across the skin of her hand, trailing up her arm. Tiny volts energized her nerve endings, causing a fizz-like effect.
She set the coffee cup down and stared at it like it was a bomb about to detonate. If one touch could send this much frisson racing through her she wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to be alone with this man and especially with the way she’d melted under his touch. Those lips. That kiss. She’d thought about it more times than she should allow in the past few hours. There was something honest and broken about him that was magnetic.
Focusing on Ashlyn was the equivalent to throwing a bucket of water on the out-of-control impulses—impulses that weren’t warranted or appreciated.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked, his dark gaze piercing through her.
“Thinking about the big day ahead, about seeing my sister,” she said. That much was true. She had no intention of owning up to the rest.
“Bottoms up,” he said, lifting his own coffee mug toward her. “We should get on the road after breakfast.”
Daniel seemed content to let it go even though his lingering gaze told her he saw past the half-truth. He moved around the kitchen with athletic grace, gathering contents from the fridge. He tossed eggs and a handful of spinach into a bowl and stirred before turning toward the five-burner stove and pouring out the contents onto a griddle pan. The ingredients sizzled as the makings of an omelet bubbled on the hot surface.
Jaden walked inside the room and to his wife. He kissed Lauren tenderly and then put a hand on her belly. Clara couldn’t hear what he said, his voice was too low, but whatever it was caused Lauren to beam up at him.
Her heart twisted at the sweetness of the gesture and the exchange between husband and wife. The moment of tenderness between them shouldn’t make tears spill on her cheeks.
Clara mumbled an apology and excused herself to go to the restroom. So much of her carefully tucked away past threatened to push through the surface, using the chinks in her armor to break free. She hated that an event from so long ago could surface without warning. All it ever took was a second-too-long glance at tenderness between a man and wife. So much of her single life now in downtown Dallas had been scripted based on that horrendous event. It was the reason she’d kept everyone at arm’s length. It was why she’d studied hard in order to get her college degree and counsel others. No one should go through that kind of pain alone.
It was also what kept her from getting too close to anyone.
After splashing cold water on her face she wrestled her hair into a high ponytail. She examined the stress cracks on her forehead before applying concealer to cover.
Inhaling a deep breath intended to fortify her, she moved into the next room to join the others.
She prayed her actions didn’t invite questions she had no authority to answer.
Chapter 8
Clara had been quiet all morning. Tension radiated from her in waves. Daniel had witnessed her turn ghost-white in the kitchen before excusing herself. Now, the two of them were stuck in rush hour traffic on a highway leading into Dallas.
GPS said they’d arrive at their destination in forty minutes. Traffic crawled. At this rate they’d reach the Durango house in hours not minutes.
Daniel had wanted to catch Timothy Durango before he left for work. He was one of
