She smiles and enters the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I press Grant’s contact information and halfway through the second ring, his voice fills the line.
“How’s our girl?” No pleasantries. We’re both in work mode, soldier mode. To others, it may sound clipped and even rude but for us it’s about the facts. There’s no time or room for emotion.
“She’s in the restroom. We’re going to take a walk to see about moving labor along. I only have a minute so tell me what you know.”
“From what I can gather from the sheriff, it was a crash and grab. The house was ransacked and shit everywhere. Nothing big was taken so we assume it was kids and they needed to get in and out quickly.”
“Damage?” I ask as I walk to the window and peer out the curtains. The sun is rising in the horizon. Colors of blue, pink, and purple paint the sky, promises of a new day. A day that will welcome a new life. Perfection.
“Nothing major. Broken glass from a picture frame looks to be the extent of it. Mostly just a huge mess that needs to be cleaned. Once the sheriff gives the go ahead, Connor and I will start cleaning but be ready to head to the hospital when it’s time.”
We talk for a few more minutes before the bathroom door opens and I turn to see Scarlett. With a clipped “Gotta go,” I end the call and slide my phone back in my pocket.
Looking at her standing before me, dressed in a plain hospital gown and fuzzy yellow socks on her feet, I’m not sure there has ever been a woman more beautiful. Exhaustion lays on her like a blanket, but beneath the fear and stress of the last twelve hours is a strong and determined woman. With a hand on her stomach, she pauses, holding my gaze. A slow smile spreads across her face and I know things are different. The way she left my house all those weeks ago changed something in me. In us.
She’s always been my best friend’s wife, my friend, but the moment we kissed everything changed. Being here with her, experiencing these moments as she prepares to welcome her son, means something to me. She means something to me. I know there is nothing I won’t do for her. I will care for her, protect her, and most of all promise her. Promise her safety and love, in whatever form she’ll take it.
We walk for what feels like hours but is only about thirty minutes. During our walk, or shuffle as Scarlett referred to it, we mostly make small talk, ignoring not only the reason for triggering her labor but also about how we left things when she was in Lexington. We laugh, and by the time I guide her back to her room and help her settle in the bed, she’s exhausted. Apparently, while I slept, she was awake and now that there’s “movement” in her labor she’s exhausted.
As she settles into the bed and the nurses scramble around her checking machines and the IV, I settle into the couch under the window. Flipping through my phone, I check emails and the local news. By the time the nurses filter out of the room, I’m yawning to the point my eyes are watering and know I need at least a few more hours of sleep. Turning to my side, I hear giggles from the bed just a few feet away.
“Something funny, sweetheart?”
“You didn’t hear a word they said, did you?”
“Enlighten me,” I retort while trying to figure out how I’m going to get comfortable when this couch is half my size.
“That turns into a makeshift bed. Just pull the cushions. I think—” She doesn’t finish her sentence before letting out a long drawn out yawn. “Going to try and sleep.”
Rising from my seat, I turn and look at the couch and see the small handle-looking strap for pulling the cushions into a bed. That’s going to be much more comfortable than that stupid chair I was in the last few hours. Spinning, I take a step to the bed and Scarlett, her eyes closed and a small pucker on her pink lips.
Slowly, I lift my hand and push the hair from her face before leaning down and placing a kiss on her forehead. As I pull back, a tiny hand grips my wrist and draws my attention. Looking down, I see a pair of beautiful brown eyes, clear and bright, staring back at me.
“Thank you for being here. It means the world to me. I’m sorry I left like I did.”
“I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”
Smiling, her eyes flutter closed, and I say, “Sleep well, beautiful. We have a baby coming.”
Chapter 21
Scarlett
Labor is not beautiful nor is it amazing. At least not for me. It’s painful, and I don’t want to do it anymore. I’ve screamed, cried, and begged for someone to make the agony stop. Not one person in this room has complied with my demands. The nurses are very sweet and gentle, and I want to punch them in the face. Turns out, birthing a small human makes me violent and very angry.
And emotional.
The tears are uncontrollable, and if I’m not careful, I’ll drown my little boy with them as soon as he makes his presence known. Which, according to Dr. Green, will be in two more pushes. Two more pushes. I feel like I’ve been at this for an entire day, and I suppose in many ways I have. It’s hard to believe what a roller coaster the last twenty-four hours have been. And through most of it, Taylor has been with me.
I still can’t believe he dropped everything to be here. I never voiced it, but I had no plan for this moment. I knew Grant and Connor would be here in some form. Likely waiting in the hall because nobody wants to be around a wailing woman pushing a human from her body. It wasn’t until I woke from my nap and saw Taylor next to my bed that I realized how alone I’ve felt all these months.
Life is strange; sometimes, even surrounded by friends and those who care about you most, loneliness can consume you. I’ve experienced it firsthand and that loneliness is stifling. But actually being alone, with nobody in your daily life, in your corner supporting you, that’s something I’d never experienced.
About a month ago, I pulled up the medical center’s website to enroll in birthing classes. It was then that the realization I had nobody to list as my partner hit me like a lightning bolt. There is no baby’s father or significant other to wrap their arms around me and help me practice breathing exercises. No partner to rub my back when the worst of the contractions hit during labor.
But now, as I glare at the previously kind and supportive Dr. Green, a man who is now a smiling masochist, I feel Taylor’s large hand on my lower back. His touch is comforting and is helping keep me grounded so I don’t lose my shit completely. Leaning down, his breath is warm on my ear as he whispers, “You’ve got this, Red. Just a few more pushes and he’ll be here. You’ll hold your son.”
Bearing down, I say a prayer and a few curse words before the overwhelming pressure dissipates, and cries of a baby fill the room. Sobs rack my body, my chest heaving as I lay my head back on the pillow. Looking up, I catch Taylor looking at me, his hand pushing the stray hairs from my sweaty face and nothing short of adoration in his tear-filled eyes.
Quickly, he leans down and presses his lips to mine. It’s a short kiss, nothing passionate or romantic but in this moment, it is everything and more. It’s the promise of what’s to come and helps fill my heart to the brim. Hope overflowing along with the love I know dwells deep in my soul.
Before I can say anything about the kiss, a wailing naked baby is nestled on my chest. Love. Undeniable and all-encompassing love is on my skin, his pink face scrunched up in anger and, most likely, fear.
“Hi sweet boy, I’m your mama,” I whisper as I place a kiss to his head. I only have his body on mine for a few seconds before the nurse swoops him away with promises to return him soon.
Taylor clears his throat, pulling my attention back to him. “I’m going to go out and update everyone.”
Confused I ask, “Everyone?”
“Cap and Twig have been here since late afternoon. Mercy and Vera showed up a few hours ago with enough food to feed half the floor.” My eyes light up, and he chuckles. “Yes, they set aside food for you. Anyway, there are a few other folks out there I don’t know but you had quite the crowd last I saw.”
“If you’d
like to step out and update the family, Scarlett and . . . the littlest Gilbert, will be all ready for visitors in about thirty minutes,” Dr. Green tells Taylor. As he shuffles out of the room, Nellie, my new evening nurse taps me on the shoulder, drawing my attention from Taylor’s retreating back.
“That one’s a keeper. I’d kill for a man to look at me like he looks at you. But this guy here, I think his look is a little bit more special,” she says as she places a blanket-wrapped little man in my arms, a knitted cap on his head. He’s like a little chubby human burrito, and I know there will never be another love like I feel right now.
“Girl, that’s one fine male you have there.” Vera’s over-the-top statements shouldn’t surprise me. Yet, here I sit. Mercy smacks her in the arm, eyes wide as she hushes her. “What? He may only be a couple hours old, but he’s a handsome little devil.” Vera pops a french fry in her mouth and smiles while chewing.
We all break out in laughter, Mercy’s snort startling the baby a little as he sleeps in my arms. I’m grateful to have changed out of that dreadful hospital gown and into my own clothes. I’d kill for a shower but the little bird bath I gave myself at the sink will have to do for tonight. The adrenaline I had earlier is quickly fading, and it’s entirely possible I’d fall asleep standing beneath the hot stream of water. My nurse, Nellie, stood watch while I brushed my teeth three times and relented when I begged her to help me braid my hair before allowing anyone in to see me. One may call that a little high maintenance, but I call it being a good friend. Nobody needed to see the hot mess I was after labor. I saw it first-hand. Not pretty.
“Oh,” Vera says as she elbows Mercy in the side, “you thought I meant the hottie with the stormy eyes and lustful gazes at our Scarlett. He’s not hard on the eyes either. But this little man . . .” she continues as she stands and extends her hands, a silent request to hold the baby. “He’s the real deal. You’ve done good, honey. This guy is a handsome little fella.”
“I can’t argue with that. Thank you both for being here. I didn’t realize how difficult this would all be.” The tears start again and before I know it, Mercy is holding me tightly as I sob, and Vera is whispering to the baby. I wish I knew what she was saying, but knowing her, it could be anything from a promise to show him all the wonders of sparkly vampires or how she’s going to teach him how to bake the best pies in the state. The thought of both makes me laugh.
We sit and talk, cooing over the baby for another thirty minutes before the ladies excuse themselves to go home. Opening the only diner in town at dawn means they’re already looking at a long day tomorrow. Like the passing of the guard, Grant and Connor step into the room. Without trying to be obvious, I peer around them looking for Taylor. I haven’t seen him since he excused himself to tell the waiting room of the baby’s birth. Maybe I imagined the feelings I saw when he looked at me. Or, maybe I was projecting how I feel on him.
“Hey, mama bear. Let me see that little soldier.” Rolling my eyes, I place the baby in Grant’s arms. I need to decide on a name, calling my son “the baby” is already getting old.
Connor places a beautiful assortment of flowers on the counter and steps up to place a kiss on my cheek. “Congratulations, Red.”
“Those are beautiful, Con. Thank you both for coming.”
“You know there’s nowhere else we’d be today. Now, for the important question—does this guy have a name yet?”
Sighing, I rest my head back on the pillow and let out a long breath. “Nope. I’ve said them all over and over and nothing feels right. Oliver, Logan, and Matthew. Great names, but sadly, I don’t think any of them are his.”
Connor and Grant spend the next ten minutes throwing out every baby name under the sun, each getting more ridiculous as they go. I attempt to intervene when they move on from names to call signs. A quiet knock at the door stops us all.
“Hey, Sugar,” Grant says as he smiles, his eyes darting between the two of us.
“You okay for another visitor?” Taylor asks. I notice he’s changed clothes and his hair is a little damp on the ends. My heart flutters knowing he didn’t leave. He stayed. And apparently took a shower. Lucky bastard.
“I think we’re going to take off. Hey little man, you be kind to your mama.” Grant places a quick kiss to the top of the baby’s head and hands him back to me. I hate that Grant is alone in this world. He’s such a good man and would be an incredible father. I’ve always seen him as a later-in-life dad, stepping into a family that needs him and his big, kind heart.
“Then there were two,” Taylor says as he approaches the side of the bed.
The baby begins to stir, and I reply, “Technically, three. You showered.”
“I did. It had been a while, and I was starting to feel like the nurses could smell me coming down the hall.”
The silence between us is slightly awkward so I take a risk. Because if there’s a chance to lay it all out, it’s when I can blame my irrational decisions on hormones.
“Want to sit with us?”
His hesitation is only a few beats before he slowly scoots onto the bed next to me. It’s a tight fit but we make it work. Nestling into his side, my head resting in the crook of his arm, I feel every fiber of anxiety and stress leave my body. His beating heart a sweet lullaby. We lie like this, the baby nestled in my arms when he speaks.
“So, going with Logan?”
“Nope. It doesn’t seem right.”
Shifting, I move the baby so he’s in front of me, his little bundled feet resting on my abdomen. With his head in my hands, I look down at him and ask, “What is your name, sweet boy?”
“Honey, you don’t have to decide tonight.”
“Nicholas Henry Gilbert.”
“Nicholas?”
“It just popped in my head,” I say, looking at Taylor, his brow quirked and a smirk on his face.
Humming, Taylor rubs his hand across his smooth chin, my eyes tracing each move. “I like it.”
“Yeah? I’m trying to do right by him. Unlike my parents. They weren’t very original with my name, now were they? Can’t do that to my son.”
“I always assumed you were named after a certain fictional character. A smart mouthed independent lady with a southern drawl.” I scoff at his description of my actual birth namesake. My parents had no way of knowing the teasing I would endure when they named me Scarlett along with my fiery red hair. “It’s a strong name and if this grip is any indication, he’s a strong boy. Like his mama.”
Leaning my head back onto his shoulder, I look at my son. There are so many possibilities for him. His life is only beginning, yet I think of all things I want to teach him, the lessons he’ll learn.
“You did great today. I was so in awe of it all. Thank you for letting me share it with you.”
Lulling my head to the side, I look up at Taylor, his face only inches from own. Slowly, he leans down, and my heart skips a beat. His breath is minty, and I suck in the coolness of it, preparing for his lips. I feel the thump of his heartbeat as my eyes slowly close. But a certain little person will have none of that and begins to stir in my hands, a whimper and a slow cry replaces the buzzing of sexual tension in the room. Laughing, I pull away and open my mouth to speak.
“Nuh uh. Take care of him, we have plenty of time to talk. I’ll clean up these bags of food and give you some privacy.”
Gently, he rises from the bed and begins gathering the trash. When he’s gone, I adjust the baby to the crook of my arm and open my nursing pajamas. With a hope and a prayer, I guide Nicholas’s mouth to my breast, hoping this latching will take the first time. I’m not that lucky and it takes a few tries but eventually he’s suckling, and I relax.
“I’m sorry your daddy wasn’t here for this day, baby boy. I have so much to tell you about him. He’d be so excited to hold you and love on you. Never doubt that. Never doubt how much you are loved by all of us.”
Chapter 22
Taylor
Zipping the small suitca
se, I look to where Scarlett is humming a song to Nicholas as she snaps his little pajamas. His little body wiggles, and I pause to watch them. Being here these past few days has been amazing. I almost blew it by kissing her just hours after she gave birth. What kind of asshole kisses a woman in a very important moment of her new parenthood? Apparently, me.
I avoided snuggling up to her in her bed and kept a safe distance by sitting on the couch, changing the baby’s diaper while she was showering, and absolutely not imagining her naked while she was doing so. Of course, I did tell Nicholas how amazing and strong his mother is, and I made sure to tell him about his father. Gripping my finger, he was the perfect audience as I told him story after story of Henry’s and my childhood shenanigans. Stories flowed from me, some I’d forgotten, with ease and it felt like, in those moments, Henry was here with us.
Scarlett gently settles Nicholas into his little carrier and clips the buckles as I approach the bed. Smiling up at me she says, “I think we’re all set. Tay, do you think he forgives me for the . . .” She holds her hand up, making a scissors motion with her fingers.
I grip her fingers in my hand and shake my head. “Do not make that gesture when referencing a man’s genitals, even if said man is only two days old. But yes, honey, I think he forgives you.”
Sighing, her shoulders relax, and I laugh at her reaction to which she responds to with a smack across the chest. “Do not make fun of me, Taylor. That was traumatic.”
“You think that was traumatic? Maybe we should ask Nick what he thinks. What do you say buddy? Going to have nightmares?”
“Don’t listen to Uncle Taylor. He’s not a nice guy.”
I gasp in mock horror at her statement, and she relents and says, “Fine. He’s actually a very nice guy. And handsome.” The last part is a mumble, not meant for my ears but I hear it nonetheless.
Promise Her Page 13
