Kelley Armstrong - Broken

“That was you? The jab?”

“Yeah.” Nick blinked and rubbed his hand over his face. “Stray elbow. Next time, tell Jeremy you need a king-size bed-” He stopped. “Oh, you thought it was the baby kicking. Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, turning before he saw my expression. “It’s this guy’s fault.” I prodded Clay, who was sprawled over two-thirds of the mattress. “Bed hog.”

“It still could’ve been the baby. He could be practicing his rat-punting in there, and you’re just passing it off as indigestion.”

I leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks.”

I looked back at Clay, whose face was buried in the pillow. I laid my hand between his shoulder blades, and felt his back rising and falling in soft, steady snores.

“He’s wiped,” I whispered. “Too many nights worrying about me. We should let him sleep.”

Nick nodded and we grabbed our clothes, then slipped into Nick’s room to shower and dress.

We were checking out the room service menu when the door swung open and Clay wheeled in, wearing only his jeans, his curls mussed, eyes bleary but dark with worry that vanished as soon as he saw me.

“Whoops,” Nick said, snaking a hand around my waist. “He caught us. We were about to get food without him.”

I forced a smile. I knew why Clay had come bursting in. For ten years, anytime he’d gone to bed with me and woken up alone, there’d been a good chance that I wasn’t just in the next room.

It had always happened like that. We’d get back together for a while-days, maybe weeks-then one morning, I’d wake and see him beside me, and my brain would scream, “What the hell are you doing? Have you forgotten what he did to you?” and I’d run.

Since I’d accepted that I wanted to stay, we’d had our spats, but I never took off. Yet sometimes, if I wasn’t beside him in the morning, he wouldn’t so much as use the bathroom until he knew where I was.

“You sleep okay?” he asked, still standing in the doorway.

I nodded. He nodded. Silence thudded down.

After a moment, he waved to the room service menu. “Go ahead and order.”

“Glad we have your permission,” Nick said.

Clay made a face and started to retreat.

“Hold on,” Nick said. “Since you’re up, we might as well eat someplace with tables. There’s a restaurant across the road. Elena and I’ll head over. You can catch up.”

Clay hesitated, but he couldn’t very well refuse, not without implying that Nick couldn’t protect me.

“I’ll shower and be right there.”

We loaded up plates, then headed to the sidewalk patio to eat. Although it was lunchtime, the only other patrons were one couple who’d stayed inside, out of the late morning heat, so we had the patio to ourselves.

I ripped the top off my orange juice. “So you’re going to be an uncle. Think you’re up for it?”

When Nick murmured something and picked up his bagel, I laughed. “Oh, I’m kidding. We don’t expect you to-”

He shook his head. “I want to be an uncle, Elena. A ‘drop the kid off and I’ll spoil him rotten’ kind. I’ll have fun teaching the little guy everything that’ll drive his dad crazy. Payback time.”

“Good. I just thought…well, you haven’t seemed very happy about it. I understand that. Your friends are going to be parents. Things will change-”

“Sure, but it wasn’t like you guys were out partying with me in the first place. Hell, I had to twist Clay’s arm to get him out to a club even when he was single, and then it was a couple of drinks, no girls and home by midnight for a run or a hunt, because that was his idea of boys’ night out. You coming along was a godsend, because at least he’ll socialize a bit for your sake. But fears that our wild partying days will be curbed by a new baby?” He snorted a laugh. “If anything, a baby might drive you guys out of the house more often, and I’m not complaining about that.”

“True. But a baby will mean Clay and I will have to be more careful, take things easier.”

Nick lifted his brows.

“A bit easier.”

“I’m not worried. I’m thrilled for you guys. And I’ll love being an uncle. That’s the role I’m cut out for. Uncle-hood.”

A shadow crossed his face, but he hid it behind a quick swig of coffee.

“That’s it,” I said softly. “You’re thinking about yourself. Fatherhood.”

“Can you see me being a father?”

“Do you want to be?”

A sharp shake of his head. “Never really thought about it before.”

“Before Clay and I started talking about it…and talking about it, and talking about it.” I shook my head. “Three years of ‘should we or shouldn’t we.’ Must have driven everyone crazy.”

“You had a lot of stuff to consider. But now that the baby’s coming…My father…He’s even more excited about it than I am.”

“He loves kids.”

A nod as Nick dropped his gaze to his coffee cup.

“Is that it? You feel like you should give him one? A grandson?”

“Shouldn’t I? Hell, what else do I give him? I’m forty-three, never left home, piss around his company pretending I’m working…” He cut himself off with a snarl of disgust. “And I can’t even bother bringing him home a grandson?”

“Do you think he cares? My God, Nick, if you think your father expects you to have a son for him…Antonio would never -”

“Of course, he wouldn’t. He doesn’t expect anything of me. And he’s never disappointed.”

I leaned forward and moved my leg against his. As I opened my mouth, he moved back fast, gaze flying over my shoulder.

“Clayton’s coming,” he said. “Don’t-”

“I wouldn’t.”

“And…forget I said a thing, okay?” He leaned back and made a face. “I’m just…in a mood these days. You’ve got enough to worry about-”

“I can always use a distraction. I won’t forget it, whether you want me to or not.”

I looked over my shoulder and called to Clay, “Better hurry. I’ve been eyeing your bagel.”

Clay walked up to the table and put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s yours, darling. You two divvy up my plate. I’ll get more.”

I smiled up at him. “Thanks. Oh, and if you could-”

“Yeah, I’ll top up your coffee.” He took my half-full mug, but waved off Nick’s. “You’re not pregnant. Get your own. You can move that table over here too. Jeremy and Antonio are on their way.”

“Are they bringing Jaime?” I asked.

Clay shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. That was no bad reflection on Jaime. Clay might not have been particularly interested in Jaime as a person, but he didn’t dislike her either, which was, with Clay, about as much as an outsider could hope for.

Jeremy did arrive with Jaime…and with news. Cholera cases were still trickling in-either unreported incidences from the original outbreak or secondary contamination.

“The hospitals are scrambling,” Antonio said, “but it’s under control. The problem now is convincing people of that.”

“Like SARS,” I said. Just a year ago, the WHO had issued an advisory against traveling to Toronto after the outbreak had been contained, and the city was still reeling from the effects.

“The memory of SARS only serves to magnify the panic,” Jeremy said. “As with that Walkerton water contamination case. People are understandably nervous and, apparently, many have decided to squeeze in an unplanned week at the cottage.”

“Traffic jams on the 400 northbound instead of south this morning, I’ll bet. I’m afraid to ask: anything…new?”