The Reluctant Fiancée
Autorzy
Lynne Marshall
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16,0K
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14
Harlequin🌸 Clean & Wholesome
HarlequinChapter One
Brynne Taylor sat across from her fiancé, Paul Capriati, on a late-afternoon Saturday date at the Rusty Nail. The restaurant was located out of town, off the highway, nestled against the copper-colored hills accentuated by the amber hues of early September and the pine green of cedars. The golden-colored knotty pine–paneled walls were decorated with buffalo, mountain goat and assorted deer heads, and there wasn’t a single cozy booth to relax in, yet Brynne and Paul continued to go back time and again. It wasn’t the most romantic place in the world, or convenient, but it was where they could depend on a good steak and a decent grilled salmon meal.
This part of Utah wasn’t a sophisticated hub, its ancestors being rugged ironworkers who built log cabins and learned to survive tough winters. But being the entryway to the state’s great national parks, the scenery was nothing short of gorgeous and the air pristine. And Cedars in the City, population thirty thousand, prided itself on being a festival city, Shakespeare being their number-one event. It began in June and continued through September at the local university, where Paul worked. A festival of plays and a championship rodeo helped round out the continual tourist appeal.
“How’s the steak?” Brynne asked, sensing something more than food was on Paul’s mind.
“As always. Good.” Yet he put his fork down, and stared kindly at her with his large hazel-brown eyes.
“What?”
One side of his mouth lifted, creating a look about her passionate professor of history she’d come to adore over the past two years. “It’s been six months.”
Ah, but this topic, she did not adore. “Since my mother died,” she finished his sentence. Mom was the only relative she’d ever known, having never been told about or met her maternal grandparents. A father had never been discussed beyond where she’d gotten her copper hair, even when Brynne had asked straight out. She likewise put down her fork, knowing the topic of conversation would soon change and would require her undivided attention. Because she also knew what he wanted.
Paul surprised her, reaching across the table for her hand, squeezing. “You look beautiful today.”
He always liked when, instead of her usual single braid down the back, she wore her hair up in a twist, allowing him the pleasure of undoing it later, when they made love. Though today he’d have to wait until much later, due to a reading at the bookstore.
She smiled coyly. “Thank you. And...?” Knowing without a doubt what he’d bring up next.
“And I want to marry you. You know that.”
“We are engaged.” For a year and a half! She lifted her left hand to show the beautifully set diamond, the ring that waited for its mate.
“But not married.” He let go of her hand. “Look, I know it’s been hard for you, losing your mom. I understood why we needed to cancel the wedding. But glance outside. Fall is practically here, and who wants a winter wedding in Utah?”
Spring had been their first choice, and the plans had been put into action last January for mid-March, but then her mother contracted a virulent, fluke virus that wound up killing her within two weeks. Shocked and devastated, they’d canceled the wedding. She’d had to quit the job she loved at the hospital and dive into helping Rory, her mother’s business partner and closest companion, run the bookstore. From as far back as she remembered she’d wanted to be a nurse. Never a businesswoman. But since Mom died, that obligation had to come first.
Brynne had been flailing on all levels since. Especially where Paul was concerned. Of course she loved him, but he had expectations about marriage and family that sometimes sent shivers through her. If she said I do, she’d be obligated to give him the family he’d always wanted. One big like his, not like the old saying she preferred, “and baby makes three.” They’d supposedly worked out their differences before their originally scheduled wedding, but since her mother died, for the life of her, Brynne couldn’t remember how or why she’d agreed to his wishes. Her foot pressed against the wood planked floor as though it was a car brake.
“We could wait for next spring?” She’d try the hopeful route, one that bought her more time. His long Roman nose twitched, a sure sign he didn’t like her answer.
“I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“You can move in with me?” How many times would they have this conversation?
“We already discussed this. Sleeping over was one thing, but moving in wouldn’t be at either your house or mine, but ours. A new place. A place we’d make our home. Together.”
She shook her head, her stomach beginning a familiar pinch whenever this conversation got rehashed. “I don’t have time to house hunt now. It’s taking every single minute to figure out the bookstore business.”
“Rory knows how things work, doesn’t she?” His expressive eyes revealed he didn’t understand. Would he ever?
“You know how Mom was—a total control freak, and private as all get-out.”
So private that sometimes it almost felt like her mother was running from something, and hiding, as though looking over her shoulder. She picked at her paper napkin with the Rusty Nail restaurant logo on it. “You’d think Rory would know the biz inside and out, but... Not to mention the fact she took Mom’s death worse than me. You know how tight they were. She’s been depressed and forgetful, and so, so sad, since. I think she’s completely forgotten how to smile.”
“But she’d worked there for, what twenty years?”
“It’s not the same, and that leaves me grappling to keep things going. For Rory’s sake, and all of Mom’s hard work.”
“You sure you’re not just being nitpicky, like your mother was?”
“You think this is a case of fruit not falling far from the tree, huh?”
“You do have your control tendencies.”
It irritated her when he was right, and she couldn’t deny her being extra hard on Rory had something to do with wanting to run the bookstore by the book, like a nurse would, when Rory had a more laid-back style, as in completely unorganized. “You think so? Why?”
“Because you’re your mother’s daughter, and you’re meant to be a nurse, delivering babies, not running a bookstore.”
“Yes, well, I’m on my sixth month of leave of absence now. I think they may fill my position.”
“They’d take you back in a heartbeat.” He sighed, clearly frustrated as he often was when talking about rescheduling their wedding. “And you are doing a fantastic job of keeping the only indie bookstore in the city open. Though I do wonder at what price.” There was never any doubt that he believed in her, just not in waiting until she felt ready to walk down the aisle.
She’d been thrilled about their wedding plans, couldn’t wait to tie the knot, but then Mom died, and she couldn’t disconnect those sad thoughts from her wedding. It’s that her death is still too fresh in my mind. I’d be walking down that aisle thinking of her instead of you. And on our day, I only want you in my thoughts, she’d told him the day they’d canceled without rescheduling their wedding. The day she’d officially begun her sabbatical from nursing—and marriage.
“I’ve taken on the bookstore in honor of my mother’s memory.” How many times did she have to say it before she’d believe this was what she was meant to do? Her appetite took a hike.
“I understand. She deserves it.”
“The city needs it.”
“True, but I also know how close you two were. I can only imagine how much loss you feel.”
Then why, on so many levels right down to her gut, did she question if she knew her mother at all? There were so many unanswered questions about her life before Brynne had been born. Questions that would never get answered because she didn’t have any relatives to ask. Though Mom and Rory were closer than close—a hunch Brynne had never had the nerve to verify—even Rory didn’t know the answers. She focused back in on Paul, who was watching her in all earnestness. She could practically read his mind.
What about you? Don’t you deserve your own life? With me? She waited for Paul to repeat his usual comeback whenever this stalled out marriage topic came up. He was a great guy, and understanding, but how could she explain this to him? Now that she was an orphan, she just wasn’t ready. Not yet. The thought of starting a family without her mother’s support and backup, seemed overwhelming. After a beat, surprised that he hadn’t said his usual spiel, she pushed some steamed vegetables around her plate before peeking at him again.
At first Brynne was distracted when he tilted his head and a wave of his thick brown hair fell over his forehead. Then, without a thought, he brushed it back. He really did take her breath away. He deserved some kind of response. “And you’re the most wonderful man I could ever hope for. I love you, Paul, but that bookstore is a mess.” It’s not just my responsibility to the bookstore that’s holding me back. It’s also partly you...and me...and all those babies you want. How could they discuss such a topic in a public restaurant?
Had she said bookstore out loud? Oops, wrong strategy with a man who lived to solve problems. One who’d thought they’d already worked out the first part about babies before they’d scheduled their wedding.
“You employ young, bright minds from the university,” he continued, “who could probably step up and help you. You’re underutilizing them. Why not make Nate, the business major, a manager, put his passion for success to work in your favor?”
“It all sounds lovely, but who has time to train anyone?”
“Which is why I’m suggesting we elope.”
What? “That came out of nowhere.”
His hand was back squeezing hers. “We could go to Vegas, get hitched and be back in time for my Monday classes and your normal business hours.”
“And face the wrath of your family?” His big fat Italian family who always found a reason to throw a party? She’d never hear the end of it if they eloped, and who wanted to get off on such a wrong foot with future in-laws?
“Under the circumstances, they’d understand.”
“No.” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t.” She stared at him, seeing disappointment in the slant of his mouth. Would he give up on her if she kept coming up with excuses to postpone their wedding? “Just give me a little more time, please. I can’t leave town right now—there’s too much going on with the store.” I’m still grieving. This time she squeezed his hand. “A winter wedding could be an adventure.” If she gave him a crumb, would he leave this topic for now?
“What would change between now and then?” He sat back in his chair, their hands only connected by fingertips now. “What’s the real reason you don’t want to marry me?”
Her neck stiffened, and her brows crashed down. “Do I need another reason than mourning my mother and trying to keep her lifelong business afloat?”
“Neither of which have to do with me.”
He knew her too well. Knew her private history, except for one part—who her father was. As soon as she found out, she’d fill him in; it was an unspoken promise. He knew how Jessica Taylor had raised Brynne alone and taught her never to be dependent on anyone. Especially men. That was a topic Mom had never wanted to discuss on a personal level, leaving much to Brynne’s imagination. Was it because of experience or preference? The question she’d never have the chance to ask.
Truth was, the thought of marrying Paul, a man who wasn’t afraid of emotions and who wanted a lot of kids, scared the daylights out of her. They’d floated the idea of children before their planned wedding, and she’d been willing to make a go of it. One baby at a time. Then her mother died, and the thought of handling a family without her mother’s backup along with Paul’s seemed overwhelming.
Paul knew she had every intention of continuing to work at the hospital, how could she do it all? Not to mention how he was an extrovert and loved his big gregarious family, and she was a wallflower by nature and had always been used to a quiet life with just her mother and her. As an introvert, the thought of constantly having to be around people, his people, drained her to near empty. Since “her people” only consisted of her mother and Rory, she was ill-prepared to go big in every way. These issues had become clearer since her mother died. It seemed, since then, she’d lost all of her confidence.
Could she handle a busy life with Paul?
“I love you, Paul, I swear I do. You’re the most caring person I’ve ever met, and you’re sexy and attentive. I couldn’t ask for more.” Yet there was something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Brynne twisted the engagement ring around and around her finger. The fact she’d had zero experience with marriage of any kind was a major reason. Her mother had stayed single. She didn’t have a clue how marriages worked. Fear of the unknown, like a sick metastasis over not having what it took to make a relationship last, invaded Brynne’s mind. Failing at marriage would be too much to deal with. The fact she’d only had a handful of boyfriends before Paul, all short term and forgettable, kind of proved her lack of expertise.
But he was different. So different. What if she hadn’t been floated to the emergency department two years ago on the night he’d come in with food poisoning? Talk about an unglamorous way to meet. Still, even sick as a dog he was such a gentleman and he’d captured her interest. “I just don’t think it would be wise to jump into marriage right now.” Her being in deep mourning, frazzled over the bookstore, and missing her old job, could start them off on the wrong foot, and would they ever recover?
Paul shook his head, not buying Brynne’s excuse for a second, and he worried what it might mean. With each passing month since their postponed wedding, he’d lost a little more of her. Was she finally going to dump him? If so, wasn’t it time to intercede? “We’ve been dating for nearly two years—it’s not like we don’t know each other.” They also had a very satisfying intimate relationship, one he’d never dreamed he’d find with a woman. Sex with his beautiful copper-haired Brynne was beyond compare.
“We’ve always had busy schedules,” she continued, “what with your classes and my labor and delivery shifts.”
He loved how she’d prided herself on being an RN at Cedars in the City Hospital, being willing to take any shift thrown her way. She’d always said it was to help save for their wedding. Now he wondered, what wedding? “Yet it’s been even harder since you took over the bookstore.”
Frustration was obvious in her expression, her eyes evading his. Maybe he was pushing her too hard, but he was desperate to get married, to start their lives together. He’d waited long enough.
“I’ve already explained I’m on a steep learning curve, just trying not to fall off.”
In his mind, if she loved him the way he loved her, she’d quit making excuses about one day spending their lives together, and just do it. Now. There was only one way to find out if she felt the way she’d just promised. Well, maybe he wasn’t being the most understanding fiancé in the world, but Brynne could mourn her mother and be married and have his arms to comfort her every night of the week. Didn’t she understand that? He wanted to marry the woman. “Then if you won’t elope, here’s another idea. My final idea.” He wasn’t usually the dramatic type, but some things, like stalling out on their marriage, called for extreme action. He desperately loved her, never wanted to lose her and honestly didn’t know what else to do.
“It doesn’t have to be big—hell, we can go to the judge’s chambers and sign a license. But if you can’t even agree to that, I don’t know what else to say except...we’re done.” Had he just issued an ultimatum? It’d slipped out of his throat like razors before the idea and its repercussions had fully formed, and now it was too late to take it back. His heart raced and his palms got damp, yet now that he’d said those despicable words—we’re done—he was determined to stand by them, swearing they needed to be said to jolt her out of the resistance. For her to see what she could lose.
As expected, or at least hoped for, shock overtook her face. His heart sank a little deeper inside. Her crystal-blue eyes first widened with alarm then narrowed with disbelief. A bolt of fear arrowed straight to his chest. What if she leaves me? Now his upper lip went moist, and panic set it. He’d done a terrible thing, and if the shoe had been on the other foot, he’d have been pissed. Really pissed. But wasn’t that what she needed, an emotional shakeup to snap her out of it? All he could do was hope he hadn’t completely blown it, or prepare to grovel if he had.
“You’re dropping one hell of a bombshell,” she muttered, clearly baffled and defeated, when he’d expected her anger.
He needed to walk it back. “I’m sorry, but I’m standing by it.” Yet for some crazy reason, he’d doubled down instead! Damn, he was desperate.
He felt like a total tool, leaning so hard on her about their engagement and marriage at such a difficult time in her life, but it was too late. He’d said the words, and she’d recoiled instead of fighting back. A bad sign. Yet history always proved winners were those who stayed on course. If they were truly in a battle for their love, he’d fight and fight hard to win. To win her.
She glanced at her watch, a disturbing stillness settling over her. What would he do if he lost her?
Grovel. Definitely. Until she took him back.
“And you know perfectly well we met early for dinner because I have to get back to the bookstore to set up for the monthly author readings.” She’d clammed up avoiding the subject and ignoring their huge problem, and it was his fault for pushing too hard.
“Which means?” he asked tenderly, hoping to keep the line of communication open, even after being the one who slammed the door.
“I have to go.”
Couldn’t she see there were other ways around this martyr role? “Another perfectly easy job to delegate to one of your university student employees.” Evidently tonight, while thinking one way, with love filling his heart, everything that left his mouth showed no mercy. A true sign of a mixed-up and desperate man.
“Not so.” She bristled, finally showing some emotion. “There’s a lot more to do than just set up chairs.” She was angry, and he was in her line of fire. At last. Maybe she’d finally take notice how frustrated and hopeless he’d become with their situation.
“I was just making a suggestion.” His Italian family was big on theatrics and loud debates, but he’d learned to tone things back with the quiet and tenderhearted Brynne. Guilt ran roughshod over his hard-core sneak attack. He’d let his feelings and fears take over and had caused pain to the person he loved more than anything or anyone in his life. His gut coiled tight as he frantically searched for a way to make things immediately better.
She inhaled and forced a quick recovery. “I wish we had more time to talk, but I’ve got to leave.” She stood while he wrestled for a way to smooth things over. “Thank you for dinner.” Half of which she’d left on her plate, having not taken a bite since he’d brought up the mother of all touchy subjects: their wedding.
He tipped his head, holding his breath.
She stepped closer to him before he had a chance to get up, bent and gave his cheek a chaste kiss. “’Bye,” she whispered above his ear, when he’d expected a screw you. Though that wasn’t her way—he knew as much, even though he deserved it.
They hadn’t accomplished anything today.
His hand shot to her wrist and grasped it, holding her there while he stood. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you,” he said, cupping her face. “I love you so much—don’t ever forget that.” Then he kissed her with all the passion stirred up by their situation. A desperate and demanding kiss took over, and she seemed instantly all in. Paul didn’t give a damn about their public display of far more than affection. If people wanted a show, he’d give them one. His pulse shot up when her arms clamped around his middle as she leaned into him and deepened the kiss. Maybe he hadn’t lost her today.
Too soon, she pulled away, her cheeks pink and nostrils flaring with each breath. He’d made her breathless. Good. “I’ve got to go.”
He tenderly tucked a curl he’d loosened while they’d kissed behind her ear. Surely she could see the love in his eyes, see how desperate he was to marry her. To prove he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life.
“We’re not done with this conversation.” He spoke quietly before releasing her and walking her to the exit, evidently more than willing to be the guy who, when his back was against the wall, knew how to fight dirty. Even as he worried and every cell in his body tensed that he’d gone about this ultimatum business completely wrong.
“Oh, I think we are.” She turned just before stepping outside. “You’ve left me no choice.”
Fantastic, his ultimatum had worked!
“I can’t marry you now. So consider the engagement over,” she said, then rushed through the door.
Stunned, it took a moment or two for her words to sink in. The engagement was over? His plan had completely backfired. He lunged toward the door, but a big, youthful waiter grabbed his arm.
“You haven’t paid, sir,” he said, voice deep to match his size and the strength of his grip.
Paul dug in his pockets to find his wallet, grabbed a wad of cash and pushed it at him, then sprinted for the door. “Brynne!” he yelled as he took two steps down at a time, and she backed out of her parking spot. “Brynne!” he called again as he ran toward the car that pushed on the gas and nearly fishtailed out of the driveway.
Lacy Taylor Winters, now Gardner, had never been to Utah before. Though nearly eight months pregnant, she’d insisted on accompanying Zack on the road trip to St. George to meet her in-laws on his dad’s seventieth birthday. Now, a week after the celebration, and having loved every minute of meeting his family, they’d taken a detour to Cedars in the City. It was the day before they were set to leave for home, and Lacy had a chance for an afternoon by herself. Finally! Too bad she’d had to deal with those pesky Braxton-Hicks contractions all morning.
Zack and Emma were taking a father-daughter hike, and once Lacy dropped them off at the trailhead, she took the opportunity to explore the historic downtown area. Almost immediately after parking, she saw a sign on the front of a beige brick building—Taylor’s Bookstore. With Taylor being the middle name she and her twin shared, how could she not go in?
Deciding to work her way around to it, she first stopped into a touristy trinket shop to find something fun for her eleven-year-old stepdaughter, Emma. After making a purchase, she stepped outside to the golden late-afternoon sun, enjoying the huge surrounding hills and mountains covered in cedars and the freshest air she’d ever inhaled. Her enthusiasm must’ve woken the baby, who actively shifted positions, which set off another Braxton-Hicks contraction. Correction. Another in a series of Braxton-Hicks contractions. Par for the course these days. Since having them all morning, she really needed to notice if they were regular.
After a moment of standing still, holding her ever-growing baby belly, waiting for things to settle down, she continued window-shopping on Main Street. She had a whole month in her favor—why time these expected contractions when all they were good for was a preview of what would come? Next month. But when a second, stronger Braxton-Hicks kicked in, she opted to walk across the street to the park and sit for a while. Wasn’t that what she’d learned about those annoying dress-rehearsal type contractions? If you’re being active and they happen, take it easy. If you’re resting and they happen, get up and move around. And always make sure you’re not dehydrated, which is the number one cause for setting them off. At over five thousand feet elevation, walking in the sun, that was likely to happen.
After drinking a bottle of water and feeling refreshed, with the contractions calming down, she headed back down Main Street, her eyes still on the prize of that book shop.
Joe Aguirre, her twin sister Eva’s husband, had helped them track down a woman named Jessica Taylor to this part of the country. She was a person of interest in their search for their surrogate mother. Granted, Taylor was a common name, but wasn’t this bookstore a coincidence? Or maybe a sign. Of course, that wasn’t the reason for this trip. Zack’s parents and family were. The search for a long-lost birth mother was just an interesting aside, and they happened to be in the same county, so why not?
Ouch! Those dang contractions were becoming a nuisance, and now that she was far from the park, with the baby pressing down on her bladder, she needed a bathroom. All bookstores had them, right? Rushing—as fast as a pregnant woman in the middle of the third trimester could—toward Taylor’s Bookstore, her only goal was to make it in time to use the bathroom without leaking.
She checked her watch as she strode straight toward the glass door. Hmm, it had only been two minutes since the last one. The old brick building was two stories, and she prayed the bathroom would be on the first floor. No way could she take the stairs or wait for an elevator right now. She needed a bathroom!
Pushing through the doors, she spied an older woman behind the counter on the right who seemed to be reading. The woman had bobbed nearly black hair that had a wide silver swath across the front and wore red Harry Potter–style glasses on the edge of her pointy nose. A long line of shoulder-high book and magazine shelves divided the entrance, where Lacy was, from the purchasing aisle, where the woman sat.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Lacy asked, trying not to sound urgent.
The store clerk glanced up then quickly back at her reading material. Lacy was pretty sure it was a magazine. “Where it always is, darlin’” came the odd reply.
How rude. Didn’t she know this was an emergency? Her glare darted around the store, there, straight back on the left. Lacy didn’t have a moment to spare to call out the bookstore clerk. She’d deal with it on her way out when she made her purchases, which would be inevitable. After all, it was a bookstore.
Dashing the last few feet, praying the bathroom was more than a one-stall deal, or if it was, that it was at least vacant, she lunged, stretching her hand out to the doorknob, then twisted and flung open the door.
She didn’t have to wait. Thank heavens!
Brynne was so angry, she’d had a stomachache the entire drive to the bookstore. An ultimatum? From Paul? She never would’ve believed it. Yet he’d said it and didn’t back down, even though he first looked as shocked as she felt hearing the words. Soon, though, his eyes had hardened, and he looked so determined—desperate, even—that she’d been stunned. He’d thrown her off, knowing she had to leave, then threw another curve when he’d kissed her like he might never see her again.
That’s when her mind snapped. How dare he do this to her while she was still in mourning?
Had she really broken the engagement? Her anger at Paul’s despicable dare renewed with vengeance—you bet she had! And as soon as she had the chance, she’d take off the ring.
She’d left the restaurant in a red-hot haze, and with each mile closer to the bookstore, the anger turned to fury. Who did he think he was? Where was his compassion? He’d been so wonderfully understanding all these months, then suddenly today he’d turned on her. An ultimatum? He could stick it.
The thought of adding a wedding to her plate of responsibilities nearly sent her driving off the road. Couldn’t he understand life was complicated now, and when things settled down, then she’d reconsider marrying him? But right now, the last thing she needed was his pressuring her to tie the knot. Who was this man, demanding a marriage one moment and kissing her senseless the next?
Frustration boiling over, she let go a scream as she careened down the hills.
Finally arriving in town, still unnerved and jittery, she absentmindedly parked in front of the store instead of in the reserved stall in the back. That spot being the prized perk that came with the apartment above the bookstore. When she realized what she’d done, unwilling to correct her error as though it was one offense too many to deal with for the day, she stubbornly put some money in the meter and strode inside. One more thing to deal with later—move the dang car before she got a parking ticket.
Had she really broken up with Paul? She shook her head, let it sink in. Apparently, yes, she had. But where was the relief? From where she stood, every single thing felt worse.
From behind the counter, Rory looked over her red readers, did a double take and made a weird expression, which contorted her large agape mouth.
“What?” Brynne couldn’t help sounding curt, but seriously, too much was going on. She didn’t need to be looked at as if she’d grown two heads when she had a fiancé giving her an ultimatum and she still needed to arrange everything for the book readings later, due to Rory’s bad back. At least Nate was coming in to help.
Lessons learned from being a nurse—her usual reaction to stress was to focus on one thing at a time, and right now it was the bookstore. Paul was left compartmentalized in the restaurant, with a shocked expression. Let him stew in his little ultimatum scheme. Now she was on the job and needed to focus. These book events drove more people to the store and kept them coming back, which meant more book sales. Bringing in the local students broke the pattern—instead of always making the university bookstore their go-to for reading material, they could come here. The key was to offer them something different, like author readings. Especially by authors of YA, Fantasy, and the occasional romance book. The effort would be worth it.
“Aren’t you in the bathroom?” Rory said with an incredulous tone, still looking as though Brynne had arrived from outer space instead of the front door.
“What?” Brynne knew Rory was still lost without Mom, but had she gone off her rocker?
“Except your hair was down,” Rory uttered, obviously confused and barely audible.
“Have you had a stroke?” Brynne had had it with the day. Things were simply too weird to deal with.
Rory came around the counter to look closer at Brynne just when they heard a loud moan in the bathroom that quickly escalated into a cry. “No!”
“What’s going on in there?” Concerned, Brynne hiked her thumb toward the bathroom.
“You came in asking for the bathroom,” Rory said, clearly not herself.
“I did not.”
“I must be seeing things,” Rory mumbled.
Brynne bolted toward the bathroom door and knocked hard, Rory right behind her. “Are you okay?”
“No,” the quivery voice said. “I think my water just broke.”
What else would happen today? Brynne forced herself into nurse mode, letting every other crazy little thing go. “I’m a labor and delivery nurse.” Or used to be. “Open the door so I can have a look, okay?”
A second or two of silence passed, then the lock clicked, the handle turned and the door slowly opened. Concerned about a pregnant woman just having her water break, Brynne’s first glance was to the floor and the pool of fluid for verification. It wasn’t bloody. Good.
“Holy doppelgänger,” Rory exclaimed from behind her.
