“Don’t pout, Princess. I’m just worried about you and our boy.”
“I know,” she agrees quietly, rubbing her belly, my son no doubt kicking up a storm.
Placing another soft kiss on her lips, we turn our attention to our daughter. We watch her toss her pizza dough into the air and spin it around before she puts her toppings on it and I place it in the oven.
“Oh god!” Libby cries, tucking her face against my chest.
I pull my eyes from the TV and frown. She’s never scared when we’re watching scary movies.
“It’s happening.”
“What?” I pull her face away from my chest and look into her wide eyes.
“I . . .” She stops and clutches her hands to her stomach.
I feel my eyes widen. “Shit.” I get off the couch and lean down over her. “Breathe, baby.”
“I’m breathing.” Her mouth pinches, and her eyes fill with worry. “I feel . . . he’s coming.”
“I’m going to get Esmeralda up and grab the bag. Just stay here and breathe,” I order.
She nods.
“Be right back.” I place a quick kiss on the top of her head, then run for Esmeralda’s room. I turn on the light so I don’t kill myself by tripping over one of the toys scattered across her bedroom floor.
“Daddy . . .”
“You need to get up and get dressed, baby. Mommy’s going to be having your brother soon,” I tell her.
A beautiful smile lights up her face before she bounds from her bed and starts to rush around her room.
Knowing she’s getting ready, I head for the master suite and grab Libby’s hospital bag from the closet. I toss it on the bed before I grab a pair of jeans and put them on, then grab a shirt and put that on, too. Dressed, I grab some clothes for Libby and head back out to the living room.
She’s now kneeling on the couch, with her face tucked into a pillow.
“Something’s wrong,” she whimpers, lifting her head. “You should call an ambulance.”
“We’ll make it to the hospital faster than an ambulance can get here, Princess,” I tell her, smoothing her hair away from her damp forehead.
She shakes her head.
“No, he’s coming. I can feel him.”
“You can feel him . . . ,” I repeat as my stomach sinks.
“Yes!” she cries as she tucks her face back into the couch, her body arching awkwardly.
Seeing the amount of pain she’s in, I quickly call 911. I hang up when they tell me they are on the way.
“Antonio, he’s coming!”
“It’s going to be okay, Princess.” I pull her pants down over her hips and almost pass out when I see the crown of my son’s head. “Fuck.” I rush to the bathroom and grab some towels, then go back to her and help her move to her back.
“Daddy . . . ?” Esmeralda’s worry-filled voice fills the otherwise-silent room.
I look at our girl, who’s standing in the hall.
“It’s okay, baby. I need you to get me a bowl of warm water,” I tell her.
She runs to the kitchen.
“I’m so scared, Antonio,” Libby whispers.
My eyes lock with hers.
“It’s going to be okay,” I assure her, tucking some towels under her bottom. “An ambulance is on the way.”
I know they won’t make it in time—our boy is almost here. “Push if you feel like you need to push,” I encourage as she pants.
Seeing her nod, I pray that I can remember everything I learned in training.
“Oh god.” She curls around her stomach.
I hold her legs open and feel my heart thunder against my rib cage as our son’s head appears.
“The baby is crowning,” I say to her.
When Esmeralda comes back with a bowl of water, I take it. “Go wait by the door, baby. An ambulance will be here soon. When they get here, just let them in.”
“Is Mommy okay?” she asks.
“I’m okay, honey.” Libby gives her a tight smile, then closes her eyes as another contraction rips through her. A long groan comes out of her.
“Go, baby.”
“Okay,” Esmeralda whispers before running off to the front door.
“I need to push again,” Libby whimpers in pain. “It’s coming, Antonio,” she says to me, fear filling her eyes.
“It’s okay, Princess. Push. You’re doing so good.” I rub her thigh. Looking down between her legs, I see our son’s head coming out a bit more.
“I’m so scared,” she says, panting.
“I know, baby. But I promise it’s going to be okay.” I try to keep my voice calm, but my body is almost shaking in fear. “I need you to bear down. You can do it.”
“Okay.” Her eyes close tight as she curls herself around her stomach once more. I wrap my hands around our son’s head and let out a sigh of relief when his shoulders slide out, then the rest of his body. I quickly wrap him in a clean dry towel and settle him against her chest. The sound of his wails now fills the room as my wife holds him.
“He’s so beautiful.” She looks at me, quietly sobbing.
“They’re here!” Esmeralda yells from the front door.
I look at my wife and see her eyes on our son.
“They’re here!” Esmeralda runs into the room, followed by two paramedics.
“Good job, baby,” I tell her.
She smiles at me before going to her mom and resting her head next to her brother’s on Libby’s chest. Libby opens up her arms so she can hold our children together.
Seeing my family all together—healthy, alive, and breathing—I know that everything will be okay.
Years later
MISS INA
“Grandma Ina, can you tell me a story?” Olivia, Fawn and Levi’s daughter, asks as she comes over to sit next to me on the couch.
I smile down at the sweet girl. I tried to tell all the children’s mothers that I didn’t want to be called Grandma Ina, but like always, they ignored me. I will never admit it to anyone, but I do love it. Especially since I don’t have grandchildren of my own to spoil.
“What story would you like me to tell you, dear?”
“The one about Mommy and Daddy.”
“Oh, I want to hear the story of my mommy and daddy,” Esmeralda says excitedly, coming over to take a seat next to her cousin.
“I don’t want to hear about my mom and dad. I already have to see them kissing and stuff. It’s so gross,” Dustin, Mackenzie and Wesley’s son, says, making a face that has my lips twitching.
Still, he doesn’t leave—he even gets a little closer when I start.
Quietly, I tell them the stories of how each of their parents found love, then end softly with what I say every time they ask to hear the story: “Whether you run into it, stumble into it, or get tossed into it, love has a way of finding you.”
“I hope love finds me one day. I want to marry a prince,” Olivia says with a dreamy sigh.
“I want to marry a policeman,” Esmeralda says with a grin. “That way I can shoot his gun.”
Oh dear.
“I never want to get married. Girls are gross,” Dustin complains.
Both his cousins look at him with narrowed eyes.
“Girls are not gross. Boys are gross. They stink,” Olivia says, getting off the couch.
“Yeah, and they do weird stuff like eat glue,” Esmeralda adds.
“I don’t smell or eat glue,” Dustin says, defending his gender.
I start to laugh. Yes, I do love this. I’m lucky to have had a chance to experience the beauty of love and family even after thinking I never would again . . .
But, like I said, love happens when you least expect it. Even to old women.
Acknowledgments
First, I have to give thanks to God, because without Him, none of this would be possible. Second, I want to thank my husband. I love you now and always—thank you for believing in me even when I don’t believe in myself. To my beautiful son, you bring such joy
into my life. I’m so honored to be your mom.
To every blogger and reader, thank you for taking the time to read and share my books. There would never be enough ink in the world to acknowledge you all, but I will forever be grateful to each and every one of you.
I started this writing journey after I fell in love with reading, like thousands of authors before me. I wanted to give people a place to escape, where the stories were funny, sweet, hot, and left you feeling good. I have loved sharing my stories with you all, loved that I have helped people escape the real world, even for a moment.
I started writing for me, but I will continue writing for you.
XOXO Aurora
About the Author
Aurora Rose Reynolds is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author whose wildly popular series include Until, Until Him, Until Her, and Underground Kings.
Her writing career started in an attempt to get the outrageously alpha men who resided in her head to leave her alone, and it has blossomed into an opportunity to share her stories with readers all over the world.
For more information on Reynolds’s latest books or to connect with her, contact her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorAuroraRoseReynolds, on Twitter @Auroraroser, or via email at [email protected]. To order signed books and find out the latest news, visit her at www.AuroraRoseReynolds.com or https://www.goodreads.com/Auroraroser.
Tossed Into Love (Fluke My Life Book 3) Page 19
