A Crazy Kind of Love (30 page)

“Now?”

“Now, turns out
death
is way harsher.” Justin laughed and the soft chuckle became a cough that wracked his too thin body like a spoiled kid shaking a toy.

When the coughing jag eased, he winced and gasped as pain rushed through him, stealing his breath, stabbing at him, slicing deep. Every day, the pain got a little worse. A little sharper, a little stronger.

The pills weren’t doing the trick anymore. Like putting a Band-Aid on a gaping chest wound. He knew he could change things. Go to a hospital. Get morphine in a drip. Get hooked up to machines that would allow him
to control his own medication. Keep himself doped so thoroughly that the pain wouldn’t be able to reach him anymore.

Nothing would reach him.

But he didn’t want that.

He wanted to be alive while he was alive.

Focusing his will inward, Justin battled the pain, pushing it down, down, until it became an almost livable presence.

Across from him, Lucas fisted his hands and gritted his teeth. But he stayed where he was and Justin was grateful. He didn’t want to be hovered over. Didn’t want the people he loved torturing themselves by not being able to help. All he wanted to do was
be here
. For as long as he could.

He wanted to love Bree. He wanted to touch and be touched. He wanted to be a part of the world he was leaving—so that when he was gone, at least his memories would be clear.

And please, God, he’d keep those memories with him wherever he ended up.

Summoning a halfhearted smile, he looked at his brother and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Don’t look so panicked,” he whispered. “I’m not dying right
now
.”

“Thanks for that,” Lucas said softly, his fists relaxing. “Wouldn’t want to face Bree and tell her the wedding was canceled.”

“I’ll make it.” The words came firmly and Justin repeated them to himself like a mantra, willing his body to hold on. He couldn’t die.

Not until he’d done this one last thing for Bree.

• • •

An hour later, Mike walked into the Leaf and Bean and nodded at a few of the familiar faces. Funny, none of them had ever looked so . . . comforting before today.

But then maybe it was just
her
. Maybe she was looking at the world around her and feeling just a little bit more . . . sappy about everything.

And who could blame her?

“Mike?” Stevie slapped one hand on the glass countertop and the sharp sound jolted Mike out of her thoughts and back to reality.

“Geez . . . take it easy, will ya?” Mike wondered if adrenaline surges were good for the baby—then figured it was half Italian, so adrenaline was probably a good thing.

Stevie grinned. “You were zoned out. Welcome back to earth. Where were you? Was it nice?”

“You know,” Mike said smiling, “it really
is
.”

“Okay, now you’re being weird. Something up?”

“Something’s always up in Chandler,” Mike said, covering neatly. No way could she let her little secret slip onto the gossip train before she’d had a chance to tell Lucas.

Oh God.

Telling Lucas.

“Okay . . .” Stevie shook her head and said, “Glad you showed up. Your sisters wanted coffee and I wasn’t looking forward to climbing that ladder to take it to ’em. And when I saw you coming, I poured a latte for
you, too. On the house,” she added, “since you guys are making my ceiling safe from rain.”

“Right. The job.”

Her sisters were up on Stevie’s roof right now, trying to get it ready for reshingling. And they weren’t real patient when waiting for their coffee.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Mike snapped to attention. “Yeah. Fine.”

She took the tray Stevie handed her. Lattes for her and her sisters. Good. She could talk to them. Marconi solidarity. That’s what she needed right now.

She wasn’t ready to face Lucas yet.

Oh God.

Lucas.

Mike’s brain took off like the space shuttle. How could she tell him this? She’d sworn to him that she couldn’t have children. Oh, he was never going to believe her. She could feel those dark, scientific eyes pinning her right now. He’d probably think this was a big setup. Like she was trying to trap his rich, cute self into marriage.

She gripped the tray a little tighter as she headed for the back door and the alley beyond. Her mind raced with thoughts of Lucas and how he was going to take all of this and she could feel her blood pressure spiking.

Joe Franklin was coming out of the restroom as she stomped by and he did a quick back step—probably reacting to the fury she knew was stamped across her features.

Trap him?

The more she thought, the madder she got. Why
would she trap Lucas into marriage? How could he possibly think she’d be desperate enough to sink so low as to trick him into making a baby? Did he really think he was
that
hot and tasty?

“Who does he think he is, anyway?” The nerd prince should have been grateful she’d gone out with him at all. Thinks he’s such hot shit just because he knows what the hell Pleiades is.

Pleiades.

Just like that, fury drained away and warmth reached up and curled around the base of her throat. She swallowed a hot flood of tears along with another wave of nausea.

That was so sweet of him, to think her belly looked like stars. Weird. But very sweet. Who would have guessed when she’d stumbled across him almost three months ago that she’d love him? That she’d have his baby inside her?

Who would have guessed that things could get so weird so fast?

Shaking her head, she stepped into the alley, saw Jo’s truck and the ladder propped along the back wall of the shop.

Something gross was in the nearby trash bin and Mike’s stomach did a quick flip and wild slide. Oh, this was gonna be a thrill ride. Nine months of this and she’d be insane or something.

Nine months.

Ohmigod.

Pregnant.

Cradling the coffee tray in one hand, she used the other to grab hold of the ladder as she started to climb.

Jo’s and Sam’s voices, arguing, naturally, drifted down to greet her and Mike smiled.

The lattes smelled great and the higher she climbed away from that trash bin, the better she felt.

Hmm. Latte. Should she drink it? Was it okay for a baby?

“Hey, it’s
my
baby, right?” she muttered. “And it’s probably expecting its usual jolt of caffeine.”

Her
baby
.

Oh God.

She poked her head over the edge of the roof and the first sister she spotted was Jo. “Hey, give me a hand, here,” Mike called.

Jo whipped her head around, narrowed her eyes and snapped, “Where the hell have you been?”

“For God’s sake, Jo,” Sam yelled from higher up on the roof, “I told you like twelve times Mike went to the doctor. She’s been sick.”

“Still am,” Mike said as she handed off the tray to Jo and climbed the rest of the way onto the roof.

From the peak of the building, you could see up and down Main Street. Cars clogged the narrow road, and the sidewalks were thick with tourists. The Autumn Festival was in full gear and the town’s cash registers were ringing like an orchestra.

Out on the meadow at the edge of town, local craftsmen and artisans set up booths to showcase the jewelry, paintings, and carvings they’d made during the rest of the year. Tour buses filled with people looking for autumn beauty ended up going home with gift bags piled high with earrings, birdhouses, handblown glass vases, and God knew what else.

It was a yearly tradition around here, and Mike smiled at the thought of teaching her own kid about Chandler. Taking her—okay, or
him
—to the summer carnival, watching the street carolers during Christmas week, and oh God.

There were so many things she wanted to teach her. Him.

Whoever.

“You don’t look sick,” Jo said flatly as she gave her a quick once-over. “You look . . . spooky.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks for the coffee.” Sam inched along the shingled roof on her butt and got close enough to snatch one of the lattes out of the tray. “What’d the doctor say?”

“Yeah, Shelley said you’re okay to work, right?” Jo asked, waving one hand at the only partially finished roof. “Because they say there’s another storm due in day after tomorrow and I want to get as much of this done as we can before then—”

Mike took a breath and blurted, “I’m pregnant.”

Stunned silence
pretty much described the situation.

Mike’s nervous gaze snapped from Sam to Jo and back again. She gulped at her latte and winced as the hot liquid singed her throat.

“You’re—” Sam started.

“Pregnant.” Jo finished.

“Yep.”

“You’re sure?”

She looked at Jo. “
Way
sure.”

“How?”

She looked at Sam and lifted an eyebrow. “Did you
see
a star over the house?”

“Right.”

“Lucas?” Jo asked.

“Of
course
Lucas,” Mike said. “What am I, the Happy Ho?”

“How do you feel?” Sam stared at her.

“Amazing.” She shrugged. “Scared. Happy. A little pukey.”

Jo gaped at her, amazement clear on her face. “I thought they said you couldn’t—”

“Shelley said that it
was
possible. It was just a four percent chance of happening—”

“Man, you beat some serious odds.”

“Yeah.” Mike took another drink. “I can’t believe this.”

“What’d Lucas say?” Sam asked.

“Haven’t told him yet,” Mike admitted and looked down at the white plastic lid of her latte.

“Why the hell not?” Jo took a gulp herself. “You’re going to, right?”

“Yeah. I am. I’m just . . .”

“Nervous?”

“Good word. Another word is—Never mind. ‘Nervous’ works.”

“What’re you waiting for?”

She looked at Jo. “He’s not gonna believe me. I told him I
couldn’t
get pregnant.”

“Why wouldn’t he believe you?” Sam demanded.

Mike blinked at her. “Hello? Paying attention?
Pregnant
here.”

“Yeah, but you don’t lie.”

Mike smiled at Jo. “Thanks. I know that. You know that. But how does
he
know that?”

“We can go with you. Like character witnesses,” Sam offered.

Mike laughed shortly. “Thanks, but I don’t really want my sisters there while I break it to Lucas that he’s about to enter the Daddy Zone.”

A wind straight off the ocean blew at the three of them, lifting their hair, twining around them, as if trying to bind them even closer together.

“Whoa, what’s Papa gonna say?” Sam wondered suddenly.

“Oh man . . .” Mike hadn’t even thought about breaking this to her father. Unmarried and pregnant is not most fathers’ dream for their little girls. Although, she might have timing on her side. How much could he say when they’d all just discovered the existence of Jack?

“Don’t worry about Papa,” Jo said, not surprisingly, “what do
you
want to do?”

Mike held her latte in one hand and braced her other, palm flat, against her belly. “I want to have a baby. You guys,” she said on a soft breath of wonder, “I never thought this would happen to me. I mean, I was okay with being the really cool aunt, but deep down, it hurt. Knowing I could never have what most women take for granted.”

“Oh, Mike . . .”

“Don’t cry,” Jo told Sam gruffly, “your vision’ll blur and you’ll fall off the roof and then what’ll I do for help?”

“You’re so sentimental,” Mike said wryly.

“I’m plenty sentimental.” Jo smiled and held out her right hand. “I’m Italian. We’re all about sentimental. And the shouting.”

“Goes without saying,” Sam said with a sniff and a smile as she laid her right hand on top of Jo’s.

“I’m gonna be a mom,” Mike said and dropped her own right hand on top of her sisters’.

Jo grinned. “God help us all.”

Lucas felt like he’d been dragged behind a Porsche for a couple of miles, then run over just for fun.

He was tired, pissed off, and on edge. Watching his brother die was eating away at him and he couldn’t find a cure. He should have told Justin about the baby. Should have given the man at least
that
. But since he’d promised Bree, he couldn’t.

Damn it, Justin deserved to know.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed for his office. With Bree and Justin sitting out on the back deck, Lucas figured he could take an hour or two. Lose himself in some dry clinical research. Research on nanotechnology. The thing he
knew
would one day save patients just like Justin.

Only it wouldn’t be in time to save his brother.

Watery winter sunlight slid through the tall, narrow window at the end of the hall, lying across the dark red tiles, making them shine. Lucas hardly noticed. As he stalked along the hallway, frustration kept pace with him.

It chewed on him, reminding him that he hadn’t been smart enough, or fast enough, to make the technology of the future available
today
. If he was so damn
smart, why hadn’t he worked harder? Faster? Why couldn’t he
do
something? Why did he feel so damn helpless?

“Lucas?”

He stopped fast, his running shoes squeaking on the tiles. Looking through the open door to his bedroom, he spotted Mike, watching him. God. Everything in him relaxed. When had she become the barometer of his emotions? How had she gotten so completely under his skin that one look into her pale blue eyes could ease tension or fire desire?

Office forgotten, he stepped into the room and frowned as she backed up a step. Although she was silhouetted by the afternoon sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window—she’d been right about that “solar flare” thing, too—he could still see that her features were taut, her eyes wary.

Instantly, he went on alert. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, and her tone convinced him she was lying.

“When did you get home?”
Home
. Jesus. When had he started thinking that his house was home to Mike? About the time the rest of his world fell apart?

“Just got here a few minutes ago,” she said and took another step back, around the end of the bed.