Lacey smiled at him, confirming her first opinion of the cadet. “The mission, huh?” She turned to Bess, “Translated from military-speak, I think that means he’s not going anywhere.”
“But your girlfriend—”
“—is touring the Museum for Women in the Arts with four of her sorority sisters right now,” he said glancing at his watch. “You aren’t really going to make me join them, are you?”
“No—ooooooh!” Bess completed her sentence with a low-pitched moan, her eyes rolling upward and her grip on Tyler intensifying.
Maeve and Lacey looked at him in alarm.
“Contraction,” he explained, timing it with his watch. “Gone yet?”
There was a long pause before Bess slowly resumed walking. “Mmhm. That was a rough one. I think I want to lie down in my room now.”
“How about I head to the nurse’s station to get you some more ice chips? And you can catch up with your friends.” Tyler’s gaze fell on Lacey and Maeve. “Can I get you two something from the cafeteria? Maybe some coffee?”
“God, yes.” Still bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, Lacey could have kissed him for offering. She reached for her purse.
“No, my treat,” Tyler said, and strode down the hallway before Lacey could argue.
Maeve’s mouth was practically watering. “Can we clone him?”
Bess started shuffling toward her room. “I’m in pain and you’re planning a seduction.”
Maeve laughed, opening the door for Bess. “We called Jack and he’s catching an early flight back, but won’t make it here till tomorrow. He really wanted to be here.” She glanced hesitantly in Lacey’s direction. “Do you think one of us should call Mick?”
“No,” Bess spat out. “I need to talk to you first—oooouuuch—” Gasping from another contraction, she gripped Lacey’s hand. “—some other time.” Releasing her grip, she saw dents from her fingernails embedded in Lacey’s hand. “Oh, God. Sorry, Lacey.”
“No problem.” Lacey hadn’t missed Bess’s reaction to the mention of Mick’s name. Curiosity gnawed at her, but she forced herself to not pry. Bess was in no shape to do much talking.
Maeve perched herself in front of an uninspiring view of the hospital parking lot. “I don’t know why you’re not getting an epidural. You don’t have anything to prove. This isn’t some sort of test you have to pass, you know.”
“I know. I just don’t want one. Maybe it is a test, for me, anyway. Maybe I want to prove something to myself.” Bess let out a pain-mitigating breath. “I’ve been a doormat most my life, you guys. I’ve never been tough.”
“Don’t say that.”
Bess shifted in the stiff hospital bed. “But it’s true. I want to be tough now. I need to be. For her.” She rubbed her belly. “I want to be strong. I want to be able to climb mountains for her if I need to.”
Maeve’s expression was grave. “You hear this, sister,” she started, pointing her finger. “You don’t have to be tough. You have us. You be whatever you want to be, and we’ll stand by you. Both of you.” She smiled, leaning over to talk to Bess’s tummy. “You hear that, kiddo?”
Lacey’s smile diminished and tears started pouring down her cheeks.
Maeve immediately rolled her eyes. “God, Lacey, you get so emotional when you don’t get enough sleep.”
Bess was more sympathetic. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking this is the last time it will be just the three of us. It’ll be four now.”
Maeve’s abrasive shell visibly cracked, and her expression warmed. “Well, thank God. The two of you were getting so boring.”
Bess winced at another contraction, and fought to get her words out. “You guys are the best friends I ever had.”
It was Maeve’s turn to let a tear fall. “Gram always told me that friends are the family you choose.”
Lacey joined hands with Maeve and Bess, and they rested their hands on Bess’s belly. Her voice was soft. “Then I choose you.”
PART THREE
Seventeen years ago
Lacey sat at the dining room table, which often doubled for a desk in the Owens household. Gripping her pencil tightly, she added another name to her list.
Nine, Lacey thought, tapping the pencil against her chin, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anyone. A light going off in her head, she jotted down another name.
Vi snuck up behind her, peering over her shoulder to see the names on the list. “Kristen Jenkins? You’re inviting her? I don’t like her. She always smells like cat litter.”