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“You have to apologize to him, Cara. I hate to say it, but I’m totally on Braxton’s side on this one.”

I eye my best friend, chilling with a glass of Prosecco on my recently cleaned-up couch. I know without a doubt she’s absolutely right. Whatever came over me left me as soon as I cleaned up my most recent round of morning sickness.

My shoulders heave with a knowing sigh. “I know. He was just so bossy, I don’t even know what came over me. And it isn’t like the entire weekend has been normal.”

And I feel even more crappy considering thirty minutes after Braxton left, Jenna showed. She’s spent the entire day helping me clean—doing most of it while demanding I rest—and taking care of me.

And why?

Because Braxton the Saint called her. I’m not sure it’s possible for the guy to get any nicer when I’ve been nothing but a raving lunatic.

My hand settles on my surprisingly settled stomach, and my gaze drifts lustfully back to Jenna’s Prosecco. Drinking alcohol in front of your pregnant best friend should be grounds for dismissal.

“It’s also not Braxton’s fault you’re on a nine-month trip to Hormonal Crazy Town. Cut the guy some slack.”

“A nine-month what?” I glare at her, already hating that so much of my life is uncontrollable.

Jenna laughs off my warning glare.

“Come on, I’ve readWhat to Expect When You’re Expecting.”

“You’ve read—”

“Well, yeah, haven’t you? I mean, my best friend’s pregnant. I figured I need to know what’s going on.”

I toss my head back into the couch and press the heel of my palms into my eyes. I’ve managed to pull up a due date calculator and call my midwife, but that’s about all I’ve done. “Gosh, no. I haven’t read a thing. I’m totally failing at this mom thing!” A pillow smacks my hands and I throw it into my lap, glaring at Jenna. “What?”

“Stop all the negative talk. You’re going to be an amazing mom. And you’re an incredible woman. You have to stop listening to all the self-doubt your parents spoon-fed you. I wouldn’t be friends with a loser, Cara.” She sips her Prosecco and wiggles the flute in the air. “I’m too cool for that.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Well, learn to stop, and get the books or get online. And when you’re ready, apologize to Braxton.”

I throw the pillow back at her, almost smiling when it hits the glass in her hand. “When did you get so wise?”

“When I became an old married woman.”

She waves her blindingly sparkling rock in the air and I laugh.

We change the topic from my pregnancy to her work as an interior decorator and hours later, when she leaves after one hundred assurances I’ll be fine, I send a text to Braxton, apologizing for losing my mind on him.

But it doesn’t matter, because he never replies.

Chapter 8

Cara

I’ve been on pins and needles the last few days, checking my phone an exceedingly huge number of times, and every time I see Braxton hasn’t sent a text, a small lump has formed in the pit of my stomach. I can’t even describe how horrible I feel for the rotten things I’ve done and said to him, and the fact he hasn’t accepted my latest apology has worry niggling in my mind at all hours of the day and night.

Gone are my erotic memories of the way he touched me. They’ve now been replaced with fear he won’t be here, that he won’t come and he’ll walk away, not only from me, but our child. And through all of it, I’ve done a lot of thinking, trying to determine the answer to the question he asked me multiple times.

What do you want from me? Why are you telling me?

It’s not because I wanted him to know he was going to be a dad. It’s not because I want him to be a part of his baby’s life.

It’s because I want him to be a part ofmine.Which is the most terrifying thought I’ve had yet. It puts my heart on the line, it makes me risk my own safety…it’s forcing me to follow what Jimmy’s dying dream for me was…Live, Cara. Live for both of us. Be true to you.