I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to focus on the part of my wife that I love the most, the part that looks nothing like I remember. ‘Right,’ I breathe, reaching forward. ‘How hard?’
‘Firmly, Mr Ward.’
‘It’s coming!’ Ava starts panting, her cheeks inflating. ‘Now!’
‘Okay, push, baby!’ I do as instructed, applying as much pressure as I’m comfortable with.
‘Go on, Mum!’ the twins chant together. ‘You can do it!’
She grunts, she wails, she cries. It’s all so familiar, but no less easy to hear. ‘Jesse!’ My name is a drawn-out, high-pitched howl, her head tossed back, her back arched. ‘Oh my God, it hurts!’
I wince, keeping my eyes rooted between her legs. A head, smeared with blood and goo, emerges slowly but surely, my spare hand resting on the underside. ‘Come on, Ava,’ I yell, cheering her on. ‘He’s coming.’
She slumps, exhaling raggedly, and the baby’s head slowly retreats. I reach to my brow and wipe away the sheen of sweat. ‘The head came out a bit, but it’s gone back in again,’ I tell the operative.
‘Perfectly normal, Mr Ward. We’ll wait for the next contraction and encourage a big push.’
‘A big push, Ava. Did you hear that?’
‘I’m not fucking deaf!’ she snaps between quick, sharp inhales and exhales, throwing me daggers. I shrink, but the kids chuckle, Jacob having a quick shake out of his poor hand. ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ Ava says, clumsily reaching for his head and patting around in his hair. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘Not at all.’ He raises his arms and flexes his non-existent biceps. ‘I’m built of steel.’
Maddie cackles. ‘In whose world?’
‘Concentrate,’ Jacob orders, giving Ava back his hand.
‘Oh, no.’ Ava’s panicked eyes land on me with a bang. ‘Here’s another one.’
I pull myself together and move in closer. ‘This time a big push, okay? The biggest you can manage.’
‘I’m trying.’ She’s getting tearful, her eyes welling.
‘Come on,’ I coo, placing my hand back where it should be. ‘You pushed two babies out one after the other. This is a walk in the park.’
‘Screw you, Ward. This one must be as big as Jacob and Maddie put together. I’m going to be ripped in two. Oh, oh, oh!’ Her teeth grit, her fists ball, her head shoots forward. ‘Arghhhhhhhh!’
‘That’s it!’ I encourage her, watching as the head crowns and gradually stretches her opening. ‘Come on, baby! He’s nearly here.’ The agonising sound of her screams goes straight through me. ‘A bit more! Yes, yes! That’s it, Ava!’
The head passes the widest point and slips free of her walls, a perfect little profile on perfect display. My voice catches in my throat, my hand stroking over the top of his wet head. Fuck, even covered in slime he’s gorgeous.
‘The head’s out,’ I say to the operative, grabbing another towel.
‘That’s great.’ She’s so calm. ‘One more push on the next contraction, Mr Ward. When the baby is out, lay it straight on Ava’s chest and wrap it in a towel. Make sure the cord isn’t caught up.’
‘Okay.’ I prepare myself, glancing up at Ava. She’s crying now, feeling Maddie’s hair as she dabs the flannel across her forehead. ‘Ava,’ I call, making her head drop limply. ‘One more push, baby.’
She nods on a big swallow, closing her eyes.
‘Just one more, Mum.’ Maddie pushes some loose strands of hair off Ava’s face as Jacob has another shake of his hand in preparation, throwing me a Jesus! look as he does. When Ava starts with the semi-controlled breaths again, I know the final push is coming. Levelling her eyes on me, she grits her teeth and nods, her face starting to go beet red. There’s no sound from her this time. Just round eyes glued to me as she goes into the final stretch.
He comes out so fast, I nearly miss it, my gaze set on my beautiful wife being helped by my beautiful children. ‘Oh, fuck.’ His wet, slippery body falls into my big hands, and his screams start immediately after that. The sound is fucking golden. He’s fucking perfect. I’m a fucking wreck, my eyes full of tears. I carefully shift him into one hand, being careful of the cord, and push Ava’s T-shirt up, laying him on her chest and covering them with a towel.
I expect the twins to grimace and look away, but they are utterly mesmerised by the sight, their little jaws hanging open. ‘He’s here,’ I croak, mindful that the operative is waiting for an update. ‘He’s here and he’s perfect.’
‘Congratulations, Mr Ward.’
‘Thank you.’ Emotion ambushes me as I watch Ava hold our baby to her chest, her lips resting on his head, her eyes closed.
‘I hardly did a thing.’ The operative chuckles. ‘You were a perfect student. I’ve had confirmation that the paramedics and midwife are just a few minutes away. I’m going to stay on the line until they arrive.’
I nod, sniffle, and wipe my nose with the back of my hand as I crawl up the side of Ava to join them. Her face is red and blotchy, her hair a wet mess. But she’s stunning. I smile and reach for my baby’s little hand, amazed by his tiny fingers. ‘He’s perfect,’ I whisper, instant love booming within me.
‘You keep saying he.’ Ava looks down at the back of his head. ‘Is it confirmed?’
I frown. No, it’s not. I was so enthralled, I didn’t look for his bits, or lack thereof. ‘Wait.’ I reach for the towel covering them, pulling it up before lifting a little leg a tad so I can see.
‘What is it, Dad?’ Jacob hurries around to my side, as well as Maddie. ‘A boy or a girl?’
I smile, looking at each of their impatient faces before cocking my head for them to look themselves. Both their heads dive down to inspect the area.
‘Well?’ Ava asks, impatient. ‘Tell me.’
Maddie coughs. ‘It’s definitely a he.’ Looking up to Ava, she smirks. ‘And he’s got a bigger penis than Jacob has now!’
I let out a bark of laughter, roughing my boy’s hair when he throws an indignant look Maddie’s way. ‘Get lost, Maddie.’
I crawl up and lie down beside Ava, my body stretched the length of hers and then some. I kiss my baby boy’s sweet little head, inhaling as I do. Lord, I’ve missed that smell so much. ‘You did so well.’ I turn my lips to my wife and kiss her sweaty forehead, taking the opportunity to breathe her in, too. ‘So, so well.’
Sighing deeply, she closes her eyes and nuzzles into me. ‘You’re my superstar.’
‘That’s one I’ve never been called before,’ I quip lightly. ‘What happened to god?’
A tired chuckle melts into my ears as I snuggle in close, the side of one finger stroking down his little cheek. ‘He’s a good-looking little fucker,’ I whisper. ‘Clearly he takes after his dad.’
‘Your ego knows no bounds.’
‘Hey, what are we calling him?’ Maddie is already besotted, her attention on the baby and the baby alone.
I stall voicing my preference, like I have for some time. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, or what Ava would think. ‘I don’t know.’ I shrug mildly. ‘What do you guys think? What does he look like?’
Both of them crowd him, their heads cocked in contemplation. ‘He doesn’t look like anything.’ Jacob reaches forward and touches the end of his nose. ‘He’s so tiny.’
‘I think he looks like a Joseph,’ Maddie declares. ‘He’s got the same amount of hair as Pap.’
I grin when Ava snorts. ‘What do you think, Mummy?’
Ava breathes in, her chin lowering to her chest to look at his peaceful form. She thinks for a while, and then she looks to the twins. ‘Maddie, Jacob, meet your new brother.’ Glancing back at me, my wife smiles faintly. ‘Baby John-Boy.’
Oh, fucking hell. My heart bursts. ‘Really?’ I ask, pushing down the lump working its way into my throat.
She shrugs, as if it’s no
thing, when it is absolutely everything. ‘He looks like a John to me.’ Peeking back down at him, she nods to herself decisively. ‘Yes, he’s definitely a John. And if we’re lucky, he’ll be as loyal, brave and loving as the original.’
Fuck, I’m a goner. I bury my face into her neck and let my stinging eyes release the tears. My emotions are shot, a huge concoction of overwhelming happiness and unrelenting sadness.
I’ll make sure baby John-Boy is all of those things. If it’s the last thing I do, he’ll be everything his uncle John was. I feel Ava’s hand in my hair, comforting me. I’ve held it together for long enough. It’s all coming out now.
But then baby John-Boy decides it’s his turn to have a wail, putting the stoppers on my intended release time. I peek up, my face wet, and find his fist rammed in his mouth. ‘Someone’s hungry.’ I look across to the kids and cock my head. ‘Mum’s about to get her boobs out.’
‘I’ll go see if the ambulance is here!’ Jacob bombs from the lounge like a spitfire, leaving smoke in his wake. I laugh. He’s just witnessed his mum giving birth, not that he saw the graphic stuff, but still. It was an experience. And he’s scared of a bit of boob?
‘Can I stay?’ Maddie asks, a little tentatively. She’s so curious, completely bewitched by her new brother.
‘Sure you can, darling.’ Ava reaches for her hand. ‘But first would you mind getting me some water?’
‘Ice?’
‘Lovely.’
Maddie shoots off, eager to help. It’s a great start to the new dynamics of our family. ‘Shall we?’ I ask, helping her lift him to her breast. He latches onto Ava’s nipple like a suction pad, his cheeks hollowing and pulling long sucks. ‘Fuck me, he’s definitely a breast man.’
‘Stop.’ Ava laughs, smacking my hand playfully before settling her head back down. If there is a more beautiful sight than this, then I’m yet to see it.
‘You’re a lucky man, John-Boy,’ I whisper, taking my face down close to his. His eyes are open just a fraction, but they’re on me. ‘I’m willing to share for now,’ I tell him, dropping a kiss on his forehead as Ava giggles softly. ‘But be warned, I’m only loaning them to you. I want them back. Understand?’ I stroke over his smooth head, smiling down at my new baby boy.
I swallow down the lump closing my throat and look up to the eyes that keep me alive. And looking back at me, her gaze soft and teary, is the beauty that is my life.
Epilogue
Eighteen months later
Ava
The sun is warm, the sky clear. Our house smells like cakes baking and potatoes roasting. It’s all mixing up with the drifting scent of charcoal from the barbecue floating in from the garden. It smells like home, our home, and the sounds are perfectly our home, too. Maddie’s music blaring down the stairs, Jacob smacking a tennis ball across the net. John-Boy squealing in the garden. I smile and peek out the kitchen window as I rub cream into my hands, seeing Jesse on all fours chasing him. I say chase. He’s making all the threatening sounds as he crawls after our lumbering toddler on the lawn. He’s just walking. Literally just. I was beginning to worry; the twins were both on their feet at twelve months, but John-Boy . . . oh, no. But then when he’s got four people to carry him around wherever he pleases, why the hell would he bother using his own two feet?
Taking my apron off and letting my hair out of its ponytail, I head for the garden to join in the fun now all the food is prepped.
As I make it to the back door, finding them rolling around on the grass, I can’t bring myself to interrupt their roughty-toughty fun. Besides, I’m hardly dressed for wrestling. So I stand at the door, my shoulder resting on the frame, and I do something I’ll never tire of. I watch them. Jesse and John-Boy. I watch them laugh, roll, squeal. My husband is on his back and currently has our toddler held in the air above him, swishing him from side to side like a diving fighter plane. He’s making the noises to match. John-Boy thinks it’s hilarious. I do, too. All that fear Jesse tried to hide in the early stages of my pregnancy was wasted effort. I understood his panic. Fifty is quite mature to be fathering a child. But, truth is, it’s given him a new lease of life. After everything that happened, John’s death, Lauren and my accident, John-Boy was a pure blessing in disguise.
I breathe in and take a seat on the steps quietly so they don’t notice they have a spectator. Jesse rolls over and places John-Boy on his unsteady feet, quickly moving back. ‘Can you catch Daddy?’ he asks, ruffling up John-Boy’s blond hair. It’s thick and gorgeous, just like his brother’s and just like his daddy’s.
‘Dada, noooooo!’ John-Boy bends at the waist and places his little palms on his knees, like he could be telling Jesse off. I stifle a laugh, grinning like an idiot as John-Boy stomps forward with outstretched arms and Jesse walks back on his knees, keeping the distance. ‘Dada, bad!’ He’s getting stroppy, his gorgeous little face twisting with displeasure. ‘Back, back, back!’ he shouts. ‘Back, Dada!’
‘You can go faster,’ Jesse tells him, getting to his feet. ‘Run for Daddy.’
‘John-Boy run!’ He waddles on, his pace picking up. ‘John-Boy, run, run, run!’
‘That’s it.’ Jesse walks backwards, his pace slow, even though John-Boy’s little chubby legs are now virtually sprinting. My breath catches when I see him stumble, his hands coming up in an instinctual move to save him before he hits the deck. He doesn’t need those hands.
‘Oops, there he goes.’ Jesse laughs, swiping John-Boy from his feet in one swift move. And then he is sailing through the air like a jet plane once again. Jesse’s always there for him. Always there for all of us.
I clap, laughing, winning both of their attention. I’m not sure whose green eyes sparkle more. ‘Good running, John-Boy!’ I call, holding out my hands for him to come.
‘Mama!’ He struggles free from Jesse’s hold and gets set on his feet. God, his little grinning face is just edible. Clomping on his way, he holds his arms out while Jesse keeps close company behind to catch him when he falls. Because he will.
About two of Jesse’s strides away, the inevitable trip happens. And once again he’s saved by Daddy, who swings him into my arms. ‘There he is!’ I sing, catching him from Jesse’s hands and putting my lips straight on his cheek, making him giggle, the sound so sweet.
Jesse lowers to the step beside me, his attention now on me. When his gaze meets mine, he smiles that roguish smile. ‘I like your dress.’
‘Of course you do. You chose it.’ I roll my eyes as I reach over to offer my lips. I don’t get a chance to poise them ready for his attack. He’s on me fast, delivering a smacker of a kiss. ‘Hmmm, you smell divine.’ I hum, feeling John-Boy pulling at the top of my black wraparound dress. That fresh water scent on my husband is still the best tranquilliser, my body folding under the smell, his breath always so minty fresh.
Pulling back a fraction, Jesse circles my nose with his. ‘Someone wants access,’ he quips, nodding to John-Boy wrestling with the black material of my dress. ‘Greedy little sod.’
‘Someone needs to get used to the fact that Mummy’s boobs aren’t at his disposal.’ I take John-Boy’s hands and push them away, making him whine and start slapping my chest in protest.
‘I know, mate,’ Jesse sighs, reaching for his chubby cheek and pinching lightly. ‘She’s a tease, right?’
I laugh, repositioning John-Boy on my lap, away from me. He’s having none of it, fighting to turn. I moan. This weaning business is exhausting, but with me now setting up my own interior design firm, it’s essential. Plus, he’s way too big now to be hanging off my boob. ‘Mummy will get you a bottle.’
‘Booby, booby, booby!’
Jesse falls apart, chuckling uncontrollably next to me while I fight off our relentless toddler. ‘Just let him have what he wants.’ Jesse places his hand on John-Boy’s head, rubbing lovingly.
I refuse to give in, and part of me
is wondering if my conniving husband has a method to his madness, because he usually does. And this time, I suspect he’s cottoned onto the fact that with his son stuck to my breast, there’s no way I can go back to work full-time. Well, he can think again. He sulked for weeks when I told him my plan for my new business. Even laid a few of his fucks on me. They didn’t make a difference. I held my own, and he finally relented. He’s learning. ‘Jesse,’ I moan, looking for the back-up I need. Jesus, he’ll still be attached to my breast when I’m fifty, and I plan on having surgery way before then. Like as soon as these balloons shrink back down to their usual form, which basically means they’ll be spaniel’s ears again.
‘I’m sorry.’ My wayward husband snorts and gathers himself.
‘Why are you finding this so funny, anyway?’ I grumble, handing John-Boy over to Jesse. ‘I thought you wanted them back for yourself?’
He stands John-Boy on his knees and smiles fondly at the little bugger. ‘But his needs are greater than mine, aren’t they, buddy?’
I’m stunned. Never in a million years did I ever expect those words to fall from my husband’s mouth. ‘You’ve changed,’ I mutter, feeling absolutely slighted as he distracts John-Boy by blowing raspberries on his belly. The shriek of laughter is ear-piercing and heart-swelling all at once, John-Boy’s hands yanking at Jesse’s dirty blond waves. ‘If you’re feeling that blasé about my boobs, you won’t mind if I get them inflated to their former glory.’ I realise I’ve just poked the bear with a huge fucking stick. But still . . . what the hell, with all this casual approach to my assets? Or his assets, more to the point.
Jesse’s playful motions still, his face smothered by John-Boy’s round tummy. I smile to myself, waiting for the thorough dressing-down I’m about to get. Slowly, his face turns towards mine, his green eyes narrow, the cogs of his mind smoking they’re spinning so fast. ‘Take that back right now.’
With This Man Page 42
