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A critical part of her life was ending. She’d never be in love again—not like she was with Braden—but neither could she be part of a mentally and emotionally unhealthy relationship.
He wouldn’t be able to stand it, either. Not in the long run.
Just as he hadn’t before.
She might have told Braden to get out when their marriage ended on their last bad fight. But he’d been the one to do it. He’d packed his bag, left and never spent another night under the roof they’d shared.
He’d come back to help her get the place ready to sell. To pack up his things. To take down the nursery and donate everything in it except the few things she’d already packed away, mementos of the son they’d lost.
But he’d never come home again.
* * *
She didn’t bother changing out of her work clothes—maternity jeans and an oversize T-shirt—or dressing up, either, for her lunch with Braden. At twelve exactly, the time they’d agreed upon, she smiled at William and headed down the hall to knock on Braden’s door.
She’d barely made a sound before the door swung inward.
Two Styrofoam containers sat on the table by the window, along with two glasses of tea. He motioned to one seat for her and took the other.
“You look great,” he told her, glancing up and down her body as she approached. “I can’t believe how big you are already.”
She might have taken offense if she didn’t know what he was talking about. “I know,” she said, grinning. She hadn’t gained anyplace but her breasts and belly, but she felt huge.
And she was loving it. Pregnancy, for all its physical downsides, really agreed with her.
He’d ordered her a grilled chicken salad with French bread on the side. She ate before she lost her appetite.
“So, have you thought of names yet?” he asked, digging into his container of spaghetti.
“Of course,” she told him, glad that he was letting them start out nice and easy. Like old times. He was setting a tone that would, hopefully, get them through what was to come. “I was doing that before I knew what I was having.”
She’d done the same with Tucker. Had chosen half a dozen names and narrowed those down to two before she’d thought to ask Braden’s opinion.
He’d liked both of her choices and had left the final say up to her.
“Try them on me,” he said.
She glanced up at him. He looked well. Fit. Too hot for her own good. She averted her eyes to her chicken salad.
“I went through the standards, Kaylee and Kylie, that kind of thing. But I really like Eva and Mari.” She pronounced the latter with an “aw” sound.
He nodded as he chewed.
“Or there’s Kelly and Cassandra.”
He met her gaze and nodded again.
She went through a few more choices, adding middle names, as they ate. It was all very civil and kind.
“What do you think?” she finally asked when she was out of names.
“I like Madison and Morgan.”
They hadn’t been among her choices. She just plain hadn’t thought of them.
“Madison and Morgan. Yeah. Madison and Morgan. I like them, too,” she said, and they both smiled.
* * *
