Page 23

Tears blur my vision as I walk around the corner of my midwife’s office building. It’s a plain, brown brick building with peeling and chipped bricks on the corners, completely nondescript and unimpressive. Other than the sign stuck to the entry glass doors, I never would have known this was a medical office. The first time I came here, I almost turned around and left, not from nerves, but from terror that the inside would be just as unimpressive.

Instead, the office is small, but bright and warm, and even though it’s only my third appointment, it already feels like home with the comforting brown microfiber couches and potted plants. There’s a warmth in the air mingled with a gentle scent of lavender.

As I pull open the door, expecting to inhale the same calm aroma, I pull to an immediate stop when Braxton’s head lifts and our gazes meet. His expression gives me nothing. I don’t know whether to sigh in relief that he’s here, or arm myself for a battle.

He’s sitting on one of the few couches, a gray knitted hat in his large, inked hands, knees spread, worn jeans fitting him perfectly down to his scuffed brown boots. I take him in all in a matter of seconds, startling when I hear my name called.

“Good morning, Cara.”

I turn abruptly from Braxton and face the receptionist.

“Hey, Katie, how are you?”

Her shoulder-length light brown hair swishes as she tilts her head to the side. “I think that’s what I’m supposed to be asking you.”

“I’m good. Better in the last few days.”

“That’s good. Pam told me you had quite the weekend.”

I fight against the urge to look at Braxton. “It wasn’t my best yet.”

It was one of my worst and not just because of the excessive puking.

Katie’s fingers clickety-clack on the keyboard and she grins at me when she’s done. Her smile might be what sealed the deal for me in keeping this small midwife practice instead of switching to a larger OB office with more than ten doctors. They’re not just personal here, they truly care, and I really, really need to feel that right now.

“I’ll let Pam know you’re here. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. I turn and even though I’d like to hide, to take another seat in the small office, as far away from Braxton as I can get, I slide onto the same couch as him, sitting close to the middle. I’m close enough to get a whiff of his cologne, not close enough to have him feel like I’m invading his personal space.

“Hey,” I say lamely, sitting down and wrapping my wool coat tighter around my waist. The weather is gloomy and brutal and they’ve been forecasting days of rain. The skies have been cloudy and it’s been so completely depressing every time I glance outside my window, I haven’t been able to paint for a week. Although some of that might be my attitude as well.

“You’re feeling better?” Braxton asks. His grip tightens around his hat like he’s strangling it, but it’s his eyes that snag my attention. The dark, rich color in them, the thick black lashes rimming his eyes, curling up. He has eyes that women spend thousands of dollars a year on products for to make them lookalmostas good his natural ones.

“I am. Thanks for asking.”

“I got your text.”

My lips press together, holding back a snippy comment, and I turn away. “I see.”

“I think after this, we should talk.”

Talk. Of course. If we were dating, I’d know a breakup was coming by the defeat in his voice. “Sure,” I finally say. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good.”

Goodness, it’s not possible for us to be any more awkward and I peer at the door, willing Pam’s assistant, Kim, to walk through and call my name.

When it doesn’t happen, I watch the second hand of the clock above the door rotate in a full circle, the minute feeling like an hour. I turn to Braxton and smile hesitantly. “I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah?” His head is cocked to the side, eyes on me, and at the edges they crinkle as his lips lift into a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” I reply.

“Good.”

His smile widens. My cheeks flush at the sight of its beauty, and I turn my head away, shaking it and laughing nervously. “This is strange.”

“We’ll get through it.”