by Jane Anthony
Asher and I sit on either end, both pretending the other one doesn’t exist as Wren thrashes between us. Hours pass. Her whimpers grow both in strength and time, howls of agony I’ve never heard a woman make before.
The clock on the wall reads midnight when Dr. Sims returns for the fourth time.
“Please give us good news,” I beg as she slides up the stool again.
The doctor blows out hard. “Five centimeters,” she announces once more.
A shadow passes over Asher’s face. He jumps to his feet, staring the doctor down with a look of contempt that scares even me. “How can that be? You’ve been in and out of here all night, and you’re telling me nothing’s changed?”
But she brushes off Asher’s disdain like a piece of lint. Turning her attention back on Wren, she says, “I’m gonna hook you up with a Pitocin drip. That should help get things moving quicker, okay?”
Wren ekes out a tormented, “Uh-huh.”
I lean in, cupping her sodden face. “Do you want her to call the anesthesiologist, first?”
“No, I don’t want drugs. I just want to get it over with,” she stubbornly sobs.
“Okay,” Dr. Sims interjects. “I’ll have it sent up and see if that gets things going.”
“Thank you,” I say as she swiftly exits the room, then returns with a clear bag of liquid.
She makes quick work of hanging it on the IV rack and attaching it to the tube already embedded in the crook of Wren’s arm. “We’ll get that baby out of you yet,” she says with a wink and disappears again.
“I don’t understand why you’re refusing drugs,” Asher seethes as soon as she’s gone. “It’s nearly morning. Why would you put us through all of this when you don’t have to?”
The way he says us makes my skin crawl. As if he’s put out by the birth of his own kid. Wren’s the one doing the work. We’re just sitting here waiting at her beck and call.
“She doesn’t want them,” I shoot back.
He leans back in his chair, threading his hands behind his head. “Oh, I assume you enjoy seeing her roll around in misery?”
“No. I fucking hate it, but I support her decision, dick.”
A crimson flush spreads up his face. “Why are you even here?” He stands again, making a big show of looking at his Rolex. “Isn’t it about time for you to run back to whatever hole you crawled out of?”
I match his stance, hovering over Wren’s bedside.
“Not now, please.” Her plea whisks between us so pathetic and weak it dulls the storm blustering inside.
I return to my chair. “I’m sorry, Bird.”
“Yeah,” Asher agrees, crossing his arms over his pink polo shirt. Someone should tell him only assholes wear pink. I’d never be caught dead wearing that even though I’d make that look good.
Tense silence fills in the crevices between Wren’s keening wails. She lets out a drawn-out whine just before the monitor next to me goes berserk.
A warning whistle summons the troops. I leap from my seat as two nurses rush through the door. “Her blood pressure’s dropping!” The one in cartoon scrubs reacts. She rifles through her pocket and squirts medicine into an available valve on Wren’s IV.
My heart slams against my ribs. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”
But no one answers my question. Heels clack across the gleaming tiles. The doctor speeds into the room next. The nurse turns, her eyes manic as she yells out, “Baby’s heart rate is falling.”
Bells scream. The doctor shouts rushed directives. Nurses spring to action.
I stand there stupidly, unsure what to do, my bones quaking with panic. Asher hangs in a nearby corner, his face an impassive mask. How can he be so fucking calm? If something happens to her . . .
I don’t want to even want to think about it.
“What’s happening?” I shout a second time, but once again it falls on deaf ears.
The doctor reaches underneath Wren’s sheet. “Baby’s in distress. We have to operate. Now.”
CHAPTER 37
Jesse
DISTRESS?
My pulse ratchets up so fast I feel lightheaded. I scream her name, demanding to know what’s happening as a group nurses physically force me from the room. Asher goes willingly, following as I flail to get back in.
“Sir, you need to calm down. Your wife is being prepped for a cesarean, and we’ll be in to give you an update as soon as we can.”
“What’s the matter? Is the baby okay?” The sound of my own voice is alien to my ears. Deep and brash and thick with worry. I need to know now. I can’t sit here and wait while they cut her open.
“She’s in good hands.” The nurse turns on her heel and runs back to the room.
A few short seconds later, they’re hauling Wren away on a gurney.
My life flashes before my eyes. If I lose her now, I lose everything I love in one fell swoop. My best friend, my soul mate, my laugh, my smile, my muse, my heart. Wren Irwin is everything tied up in a pretty red bow. Without her, I’ll cease to exist.
I stalk the waiting room like a caged tiger waiting for release. “How fucking long is this gonna take?” I ask aloud to no one in particular.
“It will take as long as it takes. Calm down,” Asher grunts.
The man’s gone mad.
“You know, you should be as nervous as I am. That’s your kid in there.”
“I have trust in the American medical system,” he calmly states, crossing his ankle over his knee. “The real question is, why are you this nervous over a child that’s not yours?”
His absurd inquiry stops my maniacal pacing. “Because I’m in love with its mother.”
Asher leans forward, his long fingers curling over the edge of his respectable shoe. “You were really planning on raising the baby as yours, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
A humorless laugh blows through his nose. “You are a better man than I.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”
“Crass,” he snaps with a haughty snicker.
I step to him lounging in his chair as if nothing’s wrong. He could be anywhere right now. A ball game, work . . . but I’m here, in a hospital waiting room with a headful of unanswered questions and my heart ramming against my ribs hard enough to break free.
How could I ever believe this man was better for Wren than I am?
How could I have been so stupid to think he could give her more than I could?
He can buy her anything in the world, but he can’t give her the only thing in life that’s free. Love.
Real, messy, manic, climbing-up-the-walls, can’t-live-without-her love. The kind that bends and sways but never breaks, always remains strong because it’s real.
The kind of love she always deserved. I can give her that in spades.
I’ll annoy her, piss her off, and say the wrong thing, but she’ll never find a man who cares about her as much as I do. He doesn’t exist.
“It’s no secret we don’t like each other,” I say, staring down from my stance above him.
His dark gaze rolls up my body and latches onto my face with a smug expression I want to smack. “That’s an understatement.”
“If this is gonna work, we’re going to have to learn how to tolerate each other.”
“Until you decide fatherhood’s too big a deal and split again, right?” he asks with a snooty smirk.
My fingers clench into fists at my side, but I hold them right against my hips, softening my tone so he understands I want no beef with him. There’s too much at stake now to let toxic masculinity get in the way. “I’m here to stay, Asher. If she’ll still have me.”
He cocks his head, eyeing me with a pointed look. “So, you think you can just walk in here after all these months and play daddy, huh?”
“No. As long as you’re in the picture, I’ll gladly take the role of stepdad. But this is my family, man.”
Asher’s gaze moves past me as footsteps approach fro
m behind. I turn as Dr. Sims swaggers through the waiting room door. Her facial expression offers no inkling as to Wren’s condition. Suddenly too weak to hold my weight, my knees give out from under me. I sink into the chair next to Asher and hold my breath as she begins to speak.
“The surgery went well. Wren is resting in recovery now.”
Relief lets the air trickle slowly from my lungs. “Can I see her?”
“You may go in one at a time, but she’s still very groggy.”
My head whips to my left to look at Asher.
“Go ahead.” He rolls his eyes, waving me on. I’m sure he has a million questions left for the doctor. A stern interrogation as if she’s on trial. I’ll leave that to him. All I want to do right now is be near Wren.
I scurry through the corridors until I find her room. Wren lies flat on her back, a dark blue blanket pulled up over her flattened stomach. I pull a chair close to her bedside, wrapping my fingers around her tiny hand.
Dense lashes cast heavy shadows under her closed eyes. I rub my thumbs over her skin, whispering her name as I lean closer.
Her head rolls toward me, her lids parting in small vacant slits before her pupils fully dilate. “Jess,” she mutters, the corners of her lips pulling in a sleepy grin.
“Hey, baby Bird.”
For a second, she just lies there blinking slowly. I lift her hand to my face, sweeping my lips against her knuckles. “It’s over,” she ekes out in a lethargic whisper.
Over. The single word turns my blood to slush. I swallow hard, licking my dry lips. Far too much meaning dwells inside those four little letters. “What’s over?”
“The baby.”
Emotion rolls up my face. It ignites my cheeks and settle in my eyes, constricting my chest until it hurts to breathe. I have no words, only a useless head bob as I try to pull it together and be strong for her.
But a weak grin curls her mouth. “We had a boy.”
A confused gasp rattles my throat. “He’s okay?”
“He’s perfect.”
The tears I’d been holding back spill over my lower lashes. I bury my face in my hands as joyful sobs rack my body.
“Do you want to see him?”
Sniveling, I wipe my face on the sleeve of my fancy tuxedo shirt. “Yeah.”
“They’ll bring him. Soon. Will you stay?”
“Of course, baby.” Her pulse beats against my lips when I press them against it. “I’m not leaving without you,” I mutter against her skin.
“Okay. I’m gonna take a nap.” Slowly, she rolls her head to the opposite side as her lids flutter closed.
Quietly I sit, watching the relaxed rise and fall of her chest. Hope fills my heart. It’s full and heavy. I press my palm against it for support, afraid that at any moment it could pop like a balloon and this feeling will end.
The adrenaline coursing through my veins dissipates like smoke. My lids soon feel too heavy to lift. I rest my head on the edge of the mattress and close my eyes. With the soft lull of her breathing and the quiet hum of machines around us, I drift off to the first deep sleep I’ve had in months.
“JESSE.”
Startling awake, I snap straight up, my eyes still too blurry to see. My gaze darts around in a confused stupor. It’s seconds before I realize where I am.
Asher’s face comes into view. I rub my eyes, sitting back in my chair with a painful wince. Fire licks up my spine. I arch and stretch, twisting my neck from side to side. “I guess I passed out,” I admit, the timbre of my voice still thick with sleep.
“Here,” he grunts, shoving a Dunkin’ Donuts cup under my nose.
I take it from his hand and peel off the lid. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”
“Yeah well, I thought about what you said. About us getting along. Consider it a peace offering.”
The deep fragrance of coffee competes with the sterile scent of Clorox burning my nostrils. Steam rises from the cup. I bring it to my lips and take a small sip, letting it linger on my tongue before swallowing it down.
“If only your peace offering included cream and sugar,” I grumble, but I take another tiny taste, thankful regardless. “Did you see him?” I keep my voice low, holding the cup between my hands, its warmth radiating through the Styrofoam.
Asher nods. “Yeah. I went to the nursery last night. I also stopped at her house and got a pre-packed bag of stuff for her.”
Jealousy cuts through my heart in a single stab, but I ignore it. Learning to share won’t be easy. Being tethered to Asher for the rest of our lives wasn’t a part of my future blueprint, but that’s the thing about life. What you expect is never what happens. God laughs at your plans and keeps throwing wrenches in them. All you can do is duck and move and hope you don’t get hit.
A moan mumbles from Wren’s closed lips. Her brows clipped, her mouth twisting in a sour pucker as her lashes flutter.
I quickly set my coffee on the floor and take her hand. “You wanna get the nurse, Ash?”
He rises from his chair and walks off, but the stern tone of his voice booms through the hall. “She’s waking up in there. Be prepared with pain meds.”
A wry grin lifts the corner of my lips. He’s an asshole right down to his core, but something tells me Asher and I are going to rock this co-parenting thing. The firm, take-no-shit dad and the loveable underdog. The calm and the crazy.
This kid had it all before he was even born.
“Mornin’, Bird,” I coo, pushing a swath of red off her forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” she mutters, her eyes focusing as they roll down my tuxedo-clad torso. “Have you been here all night?”
“I wanted to be here when you woke up.”
Her elbows sink into the mattress on either side of her body as she tries to push herself up, but she grimaces and falls back down. “And Asher?”
“He ran out and got your stuff.” I gesture to the bag in the corner with my chin.
She follows my stare, lifting a brow at the canvas bag sitting on the floor as Asher returns.
“Look who’s finally up.” He smiles, dropping a chaste kiss on her hairline.
“Thank you for getting my things. That was so nice of you.”
“Thanks for having my baby.” He shrugs and drops in the chair next to me.
Her wary gaze flits between us. “Am I in the Twilight Zone, or what? I feel like Rod Serling’s gonna walk in here at any moment and play that creepy-ass music.”
Leaning back, I huddle close to Asher. “What do you mean?” I joke, resting my hand on his knee.
Without so much as a crack in his stony façade, Asher lifts my hand by the fingers and drops it back in my own lap immediately. “We worked out our issues. Mostly.”
A gray-haired nurse pokes her head in, the swish of her scrubs following as she rounds Wren’s bed. “Good morning,” she singsongs. Lifting her glasses from the golden chain hanging around her neck, she sets them on the tip of her nose, then looks at the monitors before checking the empty bags of fluid hanging from the metal IV pole. “We can probably take this out.” She gently takes Wren by the elbow and pulls out the IV with one simple movement then covers it with a cotton ball.
Wren breathes a sigh of relief.
The nurse whisks around the room with purpose, issuing medicine and helping Wren to the bathroom before settling her back in her bed, this time in a slightly raised sitting position. “If you need anything else, just hit the buzzer to call the station,” she advises, staring down at Wren over the tops of her wire-framed specs.
“Can I see my son?” Wren responds.
“Yep. I’ll wheel him in now, and you can try to feed him.”
Wren smiles, shifting her gaze to Asher. “Would you mind calling the diner and letting them know I had the baby?” Her words are light, the question as seemingly innocent as it sounds, but her eyes twist and gleam with deeper purpose.
Lines form on Asher’s forehead. I don’t know if he hears the hidden meaning in her vo
ice, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be right back.”
Once alone, her sights turn to me. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know if I could’ve done it without you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You supported me. You’ve always supported me every step of the way.” But despite her kind words, her lips fall to a frown, her gaze soft and sad. “My life is different now, Jess. I can’t have you running in and out of it. I need stability.” She raises her gaze and looks ino my eyes as if seeing my soul. “Spiritual, physical. I need a partner. Not a head case.”
Her words pierce the bubble on my hopeful heart, but it doesn’t deflate the way I thought it would. Instead, it remains full and steadfast. “I’m never walking away from you again. I’m all in, Wren. All yours.” I lean in, feathering my lips across hers, sealing the promise she made to me all those months ago. A whisper of a kiss, soft as silk and sweet as honey. Our last first kiss.
The quiet rumble of wheels breaks our union. I pull back, waiting with anticipation as the nurse returns with a small plastic bassinet atop a rolling cart. Taped to the back, a cardboard cutout with two tiny black footprints makes my heart leap into my throat. They’re as small as my palms, ten teensy little dots above two perfect little beans.
The nurse reaches in and cradles the blanket-wrapped bundle before passing him carefully to Wren. Her instant smile lights up the room. The pride gleams in her gaze as she looks down at the flawless face of the baby in her arms.
“I’ll let you all get acquainted,” the nurse says, excusing herself from the room, but neither of us bothers to look. My gaze couldn’t leave his sweet face if I tried.
A small tuft of red hair sweeps across his head, his skin pure and pink. I knew I’d love him the second he was born, but I didn’t expect this fierce protectiveness to hit like a sledgehammer. Looking down at his innocent face, I make a promise to do everything I can to defend him and his mom. I’d kill for them both without a second thought.
