Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(22)

“Nah.” Davy’s voice was hollow. “I’ll just, uh, crash here tonight.”

Sean froze, playing and replaying his brother’s comment in his head. “You mean you’re voluntarily sleeping more than a millimeter away from Margot’s voluptuous body? What is up with that?”

Davy’s shoulders lifted, and dropped.

“What’s going on?” Sean demanded. “You *. She’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Don’t tell me you’re f*cking this up. Did you fight? Did she throw you out? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Davy said testily. “And no, she didn’t. And it’s none of your business. We both just need some, ah, breathing room.”

Now he was alarmed. Davy usually had to be pried away from his bride Margot’s side with the use of a crowbar and a pair of oversized bolt cutters. When the McClouds fell in love, they fell hard.

“Breathing room is a piss-poor idea,” Sean said. “Awful things happen when women have too much breathing room.”

“What the hell do you know about it?” Davy demanded. “You’ve never been married, you snot-nosed punk.”

Sean didn’t bother responding to that. “So is she pissed at you?”

Davy threw up his hands. “Sure, she’s pissed at me.”

“Why? If you don’t tell me, I’ll just call Margot and ask her.”

“Oh, Jesus. No. Please don’t do that,” Davy said fervently.

“So out with it. Go on. Spit it out.”

Davy struggled, helplessly. “I just…well, we’re not…she’s just angry at me because I can’t, um…” His voice trailed off, miserably.

Sean squinted at his brother, perplexed. “Can’t what?”

Davy dropped into the chair again, evidently unable to speak.

Sean gazed at him with dawning horror. “Holy shit. Are you talking about sex? You can’t have sex? With Margot the walking wet dream? What the f*ck is wrong with you? Are you seriously ill?”

“No,” Davy spat out the word. “It’s just that…she’s, ah, late.”

Sean gazed at his older brother’s slumped form, unable to make out his expression in the dimness. “Late?” he echoed. “Late for what?”

“Use the tiny brain God gave you and figure it out,” Davy snarled.

Sean cogitated for a second, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh! Oh, shit! You mean, like, that kind of late?”

Davy’s sigh was jerky and labored. “Yeah. She can’t be sure yet. Her cycle isn’t regular. But she’s never been this late before.”

“Oh, man, that’s too much information for me. I’m not sure I can handle the intimate details of my sister-in-law’s reproductive cycle—”

“Grow up and deal with it, jerk-off,” Davy snarled. “You asked.”

“True, true,” Sean soothed. “Sorry. So can’t she just, you know, do a test, or something? Put you out of your misery?”

“Not yet.” Davy’s voice was clipped. “There’s some complicated reason why you have to wait a certain number of days before a test is valid. She explained it to me. I don’t remember the details.”

“Oh.” Sean pondered this news. “Uh, well? So? Shouldn’t I be crossing my fingers? Isn’t this a good thing? A cousin for Kevvie. Cool. They can tumble around on the rug like a couple of puppies.”

Davy shook his head. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Sure, it’s a good thing. It’s a great thing. Fantastic. Yeah. But I can’t—I can’t—”

“You can’t have sex with your wife because you think she may or may not be pregnant? That’s pretty medieval.”

“Yeah, that’s what Margot thinks.” Davy stared down at his fists, clenched before him on the table as if he were trying to hang onto something invisible.

“It’s not going to be like it was with Mom,” Sean said cautiously. “Living out here with Dad was like living in another century. Margot’ll have third millennium medical care, from a major medical center—”

“I know that.” Davy’s voice was taut. “I f*cking know that.”

Davy’s eyes were shut, but Sean knew what his brother saw. Their mother, bleeding to death from an ectopic pregnancy, while the truck tires spun out in three feet of snow. His father, trying to stanch the blood. Ten-year-old Davy had been driving, or trying to.

Sean, Kev, and Connor had stayed behind in the snow shrouded house. He’d been four. Old enough to know that something terrible was happening. It was one of his earliest memories. Maybe not the earliest, because he remembered Mom, like a glow in the back of his mind. Or rather, he remembered remembering her. He shook the poignant feeling away. “Statistics are on your side. Women these days—”

“I know the statistics,” Davy said. “I’ve informed myself, Margot’s informed me. I’ve been lectured, scolded, screamed at.”

“Ah. I see,” Sean murmured.

“When she told me…Christ.” He rubbed his eyes. “She thought I’d be happy. Hell, I thought I’d be happy. But I almost lost my lunch.”

“Whoa,” Sean murmured. “Drag.”