by Linda Kage
Jesus, he’d had to watch her grit her teeth and cry out as the pain had split her apart. And, yes, his hands were at it again, shaking like they might rattle off his wrists. He glared down at them, wondering why they wouldn’t settle down. The worry was over. Everything was going to be fine. B.J. had made it through.
“Okay then, Slim,” she said on a yawn. “Next time I swear we can switch places. You give birth, I’ll stand there and watch. How ’bout that?”
When he lifted his face to scowl at her, his expression froze at the sight of her tired eyes twinkling with love as she beamed at him. She reached out her hand, and he took her fingers immediately, though he had to grind his teeth when he saw the IV and hospital band.
Rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, he said, “No next time. This is it. I mean it, B.J.”
Her grin turned ornery. “Yeah, yeah. You said that last time.”
“Well, two’s enough,” he stated adamantly.
She rolled her eyes. “Having the second was your idea, if I remember correctly.”
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered, paling to almost as white as she was. “If you’d had this hard a labor on the first, there’s no way I would’ve suggested a second.”
“Speaking of which,” she said. “Where is Jace?”
“I think Jo Ellen still has him. Mom and Dad were going to pick him up this evening, and then I’ll get him from them when I go home.”
“I’m sure Tanner will appreciate that.” B.J. chuckled. “It can’t be cool for a four-year-old guy to have a twenty-two-month-old shadowing his every move.”
“When I talked to Jo Ellen, she said they’ve both been having a blast,” Grady answered, grinning. His son and nephew had been more than excited to stay the night together.
“And what about. . .about. . .” B.J. yawned again.
Grady couldn’t blame her. She’d had a long, rough night, morning, and afternoon, delivering the most perfect baby girl he’d ever seen.
“She’s being weighed and measured,” he answered, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear for her. “The nurse said she’d bring her back when she was done.”
“Good,” B.J. murmured even as her eyelids drooped. “I can’t wait to hold her again.”
Grady understood the sentiment. He’d been amazed when a red, squawking Jace had been thrust into his arms only seconds after breathing his first. But the boy had been his mirror image. His daughter, however, looked too much like B.J. for him not to feel a different kind of adoration.
As if sensing their restless anxiety, the door opened and a grinning nurse pushed her way inside, toting a baby bassinet.
“Someone’s getting hungry,” she called.
As B.J. struggled to sit up, Grady popped to his feet. “I’ll get her for you.”
The nurse wheeled his child closer, and he reached for the swaddled form inside the cradle. But as he did so, his wife gasped.
“Grady!”
He straightened anxiously, his vision going spotty for a second because he swung toward her so fast. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Oh, God. Was she hemorrhaging? Cramping?
She pointed at the baby’s cart. “You misspelled her name.”
He paused.
What?
Turning, he squinted at the nametag on the end of the baby tub. “I did?”
B.J. made a sound of impatience. “Yes, you did. It’s Dellie, not Della.”
Grady turned back to blink at her. “Dellie?” he repeated slowly and sent her a strange look. “Your mother’s name was Dellie. . .as in a meat deli?”
B.J.’s lips parted. “You’re right,” she finally murmured. “She’d kill us if we named her after a sandwich shop.”
“We haven’t filled out the records for the birth certificate yet,” the nurse spoke up, “in case you need to change something.”
But B.J. was already shaking her head and lifting her hand. “No. No, I like Della. Della Rose Rawlings. It gives her her own name.” She grinned at Grady. “Besides, it’s tradition in our family to misspell the girl’s name.”
“You sure?” he asked as he lifted the yet-to-be-named infant and then gently placed her in her mother’s waiting arms. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m positive,” she answered as she looked down at her daughter’s small, heart-shaped face. “I love it. I love the name Della.”
As she opened her blouse and guided Della’s mouth to her breast, the nurse faded out of the room, and Grady settled himself back into his chair to watch. Something inside him eased, and he realized his hands were calm and steady.
When B.J. noticed the direction of his attention, she snorted and rolled her eyes. But then she softened and lovingly murmured, “Pervert. I can’t believe you get off so much on watching this.”
“It’s special,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her softly. “Just like you. I love you, Banner Jewell. Thank you so much for our children.”
She grinned against his mouth. “I love you too. But I gotta say, I didn’t make ’em by myself. I did have a little help.”
Grady winked. “As long as it wasn’t Junkyard Smardo helping.”
B.J. gasped and punched his arm. “Jerk.”
He laughed and kissed her again, “Seriously, I thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for my life. I thank you for. . .everything. In the past three years, you’ve made me the happiest man, B.J. You’ve made me something better than I ever was.”
She gave a rather feminine, rather dreamy sounding sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. “Well, a girl never gets tired of hearing that,” she admitted. “Even a tomboy.”
Dropping his eyes to Della Rose, Grady reached out and touched her thick head of super-fine baby hair. “I hope she turns out to be a tomboy too. Just like her mother.”
B.J. pulled back to give him an are-you-insane look. “God, let’s hope not.”
“I’m serious. I hope she grows up tough and strong, and wraps some poor, hopeless guy around her little finger, so I can kick his butt for looking at her.”
B.J. laughed. “You’re so diabolical,” she answered with a twinkle in her eyes. “Must be why I love you.”
As they grinned at other and shared the next chuckle, Grady realized this was definitely the best moment of his life, though strangely enough, every new experience with B.J.—starting a family and building their life together—was fast proving to be the best he’d ever had.
A word about the author. . .
Linda is a contemporary romance writer from the Midwestern USA, where she lives with her wonderful husband and nine cuckoo clocks. The eighth and final child of dairy farmers, she was forced into having a vivid imagination if she ever wanted to do something one of her siblings hadn’t already tried. She expects her first book and first baby both to be released to the world in 2010.
