She would rather be on her own than with someone who didn’t want the same things she wanted. And she would be just fine on her own, as she’d always been.
The baby wriggled and squirmed, and she touched a hand to her belly and whispered a silent apology to her unborn child.
She would be fine, but she wouldn’t be on her own. She and her baby would have each other, and that was all they needed.
* * *
Clay was relieved to see Antonia looking as bright and cheerful as usual at breakfast the next morning.
When she hadn’t shown up at the stables the night before, he’d worried that something was wrong. And when she finally did reply to the text he sent to her, the response was brief. Something came up, c u 2morrow.
The vagueness of the message was his first warning that something was wrong; the fact that she didn’t hover around the table, even to fuss over Bennett, was his second. But he could hardly question her in the middle of a dining room full of other people. So he lingered until those other people were gone, and then he said, “I missed you last night.”
It wasn’t what he’d planned to say, but it was the truth. He had missed her. Not just making love with Antonia, but just being with her.
“I had some errands to run in town yesterday, and by the time I got back, I was exhausted.”
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but the fact that she didn’t look at him when she spoke made him think that while it might be true, it wasn’t the whole truth.
“Will you be there tonight?” he asked her.
She kept her gaze focused on the plates that she was stacking. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because I never expected that this...” She paused, as if uncertain how to describe their relationship and, in the end, only gestured between the two of them “...would go on as long as it has already.”
He frowned. “Are you suggesting that you’re usually more of a one-night stand kind of girl?”
She flushed. “Of course not. But neither one of us is in a position to want a relationship right now.”
“And yet, we’ve got one anyway.”
“No.” She shook her head. “We don’t.”
“You’re dumping me?”
She drew in a deep breath and, finally, looked at him. “I’m ending our relationship before I get in too deep.”
He frowned. She really was dumping him. Whatever answer he’d expected when he asked the question, it was not confirmation that she was ending things.
“What about me?” he demanded. “How do you know I’m not in deep?”
“You don’t do deep,” she reminded him. “You made that point very clear from the beginning, and I appreciate that you were honest with me. And the only reason I got involved with you was because I thought I could do casual.
“It turns out, I was wrong. And the more time I spend with you and Bennett, the more I want to be with you and Bennett.”
His brows lifted. “You’re dumping me because you want to be with me?”
“If you could overlook your wounded pride for a minute, you’d realize that this is the best thing for both of us, to end things before I start having expectations or making demands.”
“What if I don’t agree?”
She wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Don’t you remember telling me how much you hated those first weeks when Bennett was a baby? How he cried all the time until you were ready to pull your hair out?”
Even now, he couldn’t help but cringe at the memory—and his reaction did not go unnoticed.
“In about a month, I’m going to have one of those screaming babies,” she reminded him gently.
“You don’t think I could handle it?” he challenged.
“I don’t think you want to handle it.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said.
Her eyes filled with tears. “Neither one of us ever intended for this to be anything more than a temporary fling.”
He wanted to deny her claim, but he couldn’t. She was right. In the beginning, he hadn’t been thinking beyond the short-term. Somewhere along the line, though, their relationship had become something more. But maybe only to him.
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Did you?” she challenged. “Do you want to get married and have a family?”
It was instinct, pure and simple, that had him taking a step back.
Antonia’s smile was wry. “Don’t worry—that wasn’t a proposal, just a hypothetical.”
“Just because I haven’t thought in those terms doesn’t mean I couldn’t get to the point where I want the same things.”
“But you’re not at that point, and I am. I want a husband and a father for my baby, someone who will love both of us and who wants to be with us forever.”
“You’re not even giving me a chance,” he protested.
Her smile was sad. “I just did.”
When she carried the dishes into the kitchen, he didn’t follow. He didn’t know what to say to her right now—or even if there was anything he could say to change her mind.
And maybe she was right. They were at different stages in their lives; they wanted different things. He certainly hadn’t been looking for a relationship when he came to Thunder Canyon, and even when he’d decided to take Antonia to his bed, he’d never expected that he would grow to care so much for her in such a short period of time.
Even if his feelings were deeper than he’d anticipated, he still wasn’t looking to fall in love. So maybe ending their relationship now really was the best thing.
But if this was the best thing, why did he feel so completely miserable?
Chapter Thirteen
Clay had learned a long time ago not to ignore his instincts. So when Antonia didn’t answer her cell and his gut warned him that there was something wrong, his concern immediately kicked into high gear.
It was possible that she was just screening her calls and didn’t want to talk to him, but he didn’t think it was likely. Antonia had never played those kinds of games. Even in the four days that had passed since she’d given him the brush-off in her dining room, she’d continued to be pleasant and polite, albeit a little distant. But she hadn’t ignored him. If something was on her mind, she said it, and if she didn’t want to talk to him, she would have answered her phone to tell him that, too.
So why wasn’t she answering her phone? And where was she? He didn’t think she would have ventured too far. Then again, what did he know about the workings of a woman’s mind? If there was an issue on the far side of the ranch that needed her attention, she wouldn’t have hesitated to head out in that direction. Because Little Miss Independent—as he’d heard each one of her brothers refer to her on occasion—never asked for help from anyone. She never asked for anything.
He pushed open the door of the stable and immediately sensed the unrest of the few horses in their stalls. He heard a nervous whinny coming from the far end and hurried in that direction, panic clawing at his belly and his heart in his throat.
“Antonia?”
“I’m...here.”
He raced toward the sound of her voice, but the relief he wanted to feel didn’t come because when he reached her, she was collapsed against the door of Daisy Mae’s stall.
He dropped to his knees beside her. Her breath was coming in fast and shallow pants, her eyes were glassy with pain.
“What happened? Where are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I think...I’m in...labor.”
He laid his hand on her belly, found it taut as a drum. And while he’d never been around a woman in labor, he had enough experience delivering calves and foals to recognize the basic signs of impending birth, and Antonia was definitely having
a contraction.
“When did the contractions start?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I came to check on...Maisy Rae...after lunch.”
“Why didn’t you call someone?” he asked, already dialing 9-1-1 on his cell.
“I didn’t have my cell.” She gestured to the far end of the barn. “I was trying to get to the phone in the office.” She looked at him, her beautiful green eyes filled with more fear than pain now. “It’s too soon.”
“My mother had six children,” he reminded her. “And she was always fond of saying that babies come when they’re ready, and apparently Antonia Junior is ready.”
She managed to smile at that. “I am not naming my daughter Antonia.”
“Why not? It’s a beautiful name.”
“If it’s a girl, she’ll be Lucinda,” she said decisively. “For my mom.”
“Lucinda’s a beautiful name, too.” He imagined it was common for a woman about to give birth for the first time to think about her own mother. And because he knew that Antonia had to be missing the parent she’d lost two years earlier, there was no way he was going to let her lose her baby, too.
“I’m scared.”
“You’re going to be okay,” he promised her again. “Just try to relax.”
“Relax?” She stared at him incredulously.
“Sorry. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say or do. Breathe?”
She managed another smile. “I can try to do that.”
He took her hand in his, and she gripped his fingers so tightly he could barely speak when his call connected.
“9-1-1. What is the nature of your emergency?”
He focused on speaking clearly and calmly, because he knew that giving in to his own rising panic wouldn’t help Antonia at all. “I’m with an expectant mother in premature labor.”
“Is this her first pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
“How far along is she?”
He repeated the question to Antonia, then relayed her answer. “Thirty-six and a half weeks.”
“Is she having contractions?”
He didn’t need to consult with the expectant mother to answer that one. “Yes.”
“When did the contractions start?”
“Less than an hour ago.”
“How far apart are they?”
He glanced at his watch as Antonia’s grip tightened on his hand again. “About three minutes.”
“Has her water broke?”
Antonia started to shake her head in response to the question, but before he could convey her response, she let out a soft cry—and a gush of fluid.
“Just now,” he said instead.
“An ambulance has been dispatched,” the operator assured him. “The EMTs should be there in less than ten minutes.”
He repeated the timeline to Antonia; she nodded.
“It doesn’t seem as if birth is imminent,” the operator said, and Clay exhaled a shaky sigh of relief, “but I’ll stay on the line until the EMTs arrive and you can let me know if the situation changes.”
“Okay,” he said gratefully. And then, to Antonia, “You’re going to be okay.”
She nodded, and though he knew she was desperate to believe his reassurance, he could see the fear in her eyes.
* * *
The ambulance arrived right on schedule, and the EMTs quickly and efficiently strapped Antonia to the gurney and settled her in the back of the vehicle.
Clay realized that the paramedics probably assumed he was the baby’s father, and he had no intention of informing them otherwise and risk being banished from their ride. No way was he going to leave Antonia’s side. Not that she was likely to let him, if the grip she maintained on his hand was any indication.
He thanked the emergency operator for her assistance and, after he disconnected that call, placed another to his brother. When Forrest answered, Clay quickly explained the situation. After a minor bit of griping and grumbling to ensure that Clay truly understood the magnitude of the favor he was asking, Forrest assured his brother that he would take good care of Bennett while Clay was at the hospital.
And then, just as Clay was about to disconnect the call, Forrest said, “You take good care of her, too.”
Beneath the gruff tone were hints of genuine affection and concern, confirming that—in the time they’d been at Wright’s Way—Forrest had grown to care for Antonia, too.
“I will,” Clay promised his brother.
Then he tucked his phone away and turned his full attention back to the laboring mother.
“Did you have a birthing coach?” he asked her now. “Anyone I should call to meet us at the hospital?”
She shook her head. “I took the classes online. By myself.”
He almost smiled at that. Of course she did, because there wasn’t anything Little Miss Independent didn’t think she could do on her own.
The EMT, whose badge identified him as Wayne, set aside the stethoscope. “Your baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady,” he told Antonia. “And your contractions are coming hard and fast.”
She just nodded.
“The dispatcher said this is your first pregnancy?”
She nodded again.
“When was your last check-up?”
“Four—” she sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut as another contraction hit “—days ago.”
“And your doctor didn’t give any indication that you might go into labor early?”
She opened her eyes again, and Clay saw that they were filled with tears. “Is my baby...going to be...okay?”
“There’s absolutely no reason to think otherwise,” Wayne assured her. “I’ve just never known a first baby to be in such a hurry.”
“Gotta be a girl,” Clay teased Antonia. “Women never have any patience.”
“I’d say it’s gotta be a boy,” the EMT countered. “Because I’ve never known a woman to be on time for anything, never mind early.”
“How far are we...from the hospital?” Antonia interrupted their argument to ask.
“We’re about four minutes out now.”
“Just hold on for a little bit longer,” Clay pleaded.
“I don’t think I can,” she admitted.
“You’re doing great,” Wayne assured her.
“I really want to push.”
“Let me take another peek.” He moved down to the end of the gurney, lifted the sheet. “Looks like you’re fully dilated.”
“Does that mean I can push?”
No. Please no, he thought.
“On your next contraction,” the EMT agreed.
“But we’re not at the hospital yet,” Clay protested.
“We’ll be there soon.” And then, when Antonia started pushing, the EMT said, “You’re doing great, Mom. Push with the contraction and pant when the pressure eases.”
She drew a deep breath. “The pressure’s going to ease?”
Wayne grinned. “Hard to believe right now, I know,” he acknowledged. “Oh, there you go—he’s crowning.”
“He?”
“Or she,” the paramedic amended. “I can’t actually tell from the top of the head. Or even the whole head,” he amended, when she’d successfully delivered that part.
“Okay, pant now for a minute—” he said, and demonstrated the correct technique for Antonia to copy.
“And push,” he said again.
He repeated the push and pant routine a few more times until the driver pulled into the ambulance bay just as Antonia gave a final push and brought her baby girl into the world.
“I’ll be damned,” Wayne said, and chuckled. “She is a girl.”
Antonia let out a shaky breath, tears on her cheek
s. “Is she okay?”
As if in response, the newborn let out an indignant cry.
“She’s okay,” Wayne confirmed.
“Ten fingers and ten toes and absolutely beautiful,” Clay said.
A neonatal team was waiting for the new mother and her baby as soon as they were wheeled into the hospital. Although Clay was still reluctant to leave Antonia’s side, he couldn’t help but feel that he was in the way in the midst of all the chaos and activity so he stepped outside to call his brother again.
After recounting the details of the baby’s birth and confirming that Forrest wasn’t having any trouble with Bennett, he saw Antonia’s father step off the elevator.
John Wright looked as if he’d literally run to the hospital. His hair was disheveled, his face was red and—as his gaze swung from side to side—Clay saw that there was more than a hint of panic in his eyes.
But he finally spotted Clay, and he hurried down the corridor towards him. “I saw the ambulance at the barn,” he said by way of explanation. “Antonia?”
In that moment, Clay remembered Antonia telling him about her mother’s stroke, about her father calling the ambulance and the paramedics desperate—and unsuccessful—attempts to revive the patient. About how the sirens weren’t blaring when the ambulance pulled away, because there was no reason to hurry, and he thought he understood the origin of some of the older man’s panic.
“Antonia is fine,” Clay assured him.
The older man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “She’s...okay?”
“She’s better than okay. In fact, she’s right across the hall—” he gestured to the doorway “—with your granddaughter.”
“A granddaughter.” John’s lips curved, just a little. “Can I go in?”
“I’m sure they’d love to see you.”
“Thank you.” He offered his hand, and Clay shook it. “Thank you for being there—for both of them.”
And Clay knew now that there wasn’t anywhere else in the world he wanted to be but with Antonia and her baby.
So the only question left is, are you ready to admit that you want her, not just for a few nights but forever?
The Maverick's Ready-Made Family Page 17
