The Royals of Monterra: Royal Delivery (Kindle Worlds)

by Rebecca Connolly

  I nodded once.

  Then I threw my head back and screamed.

  “I can’t do it. I can’t, I’m done. No more.”

  “You can do it, bella. You’re almost there.”

  “You don’t know that, you aren’t down there measuring!”

  Nico sighed and pushed back the hair that was sticking to my damp forehead, murmuring in Italian so I couldn’t argue back. The sound of his voice was somehow soothing and grating at the same time, but it calmed me, and I wanted to crawl inside of it and never leave.

  My head started spinning with the pain and I thought it would explode through sudden gaping holes in my temples. I was exhausted, I was in agony, and I would rather go under the knife at this point than push anything anywhere.

  I felt panic welling up in my chest and I leaned my head back against the pillow as tears practically fled from my eyes. I flailed my hand, seeking Nico, and he held it tightly.

  “I’m sorry I’m not the wife you deserve,” I said, my voice a mix of a whimper and a pant with a hint of childish petulance. “I’m sorry I’m not as poised and perfect as I am supposed to be, I’m sorry I can’t navigate your world as well as I should.” I hiccupped and a sob escaped. “I’m sorry I’m not Caitlin. I know she is better for this sort of thing, and you should have married her, and she probably gives birth like freaking Snow White with animals, and I’m just so sorry, Nico, I’m so sorry.”

  He leaned down and took my face in his hands and kissed me hard. “Basta, Katerina. I don’t want to be married to Caitlin. I never have. I only want you. I love you and I married you and I have absolutely no regrets about any of it. You are perfect to me. Stop.”

  I cried pitifully and moaned as I fisted my hands in his shirt and made him kiss me again gently, then rested his forehead against mine.

  I shook my head against him. “I can’t do this,” I whispered.

  He pressed his hands against me a little firmer. “You can. You are. We’re almost there.”

  His steadiness, his calm assurance and sudden no-nonsense air settled me and gave me focus. I still hurt, I was still exhausted, and I still didn’t know how this kid was going to get out of me, but Nico was here, and I wasn’t alone.

  I’d be the only one pushing, but there wasn’t really anything I could do about that now.

  I looked up at Nico’s gorgeousness, felt the faint flutter of my heart, and the soft brush of his thumbs against my cheeks, smoothing my tears away. “Okay,” I managed to squeak out. “Okay.”

  “Your Majesty,” the doctor broke in from his catcher’s position down under, “you can start to push whenever you are ready. You are fully dilated.”

  “What?” I barked at the same time Nico let loose with a bleated “Ma che?”

  The doctor grinned, his glasses glinting and his stupid comb over hidden by his hat. “You can push. Go right ahead.”

  I tossed a grin of relief and anticipation at Nico, and he returned it, then I turned my attention to the doctor again. “Great. How?”

  He threw his head back in a laugh and briefly explained how, saying my body would do so naturally, while avoiding tossing a very large “well, duh” in my face. So I pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

  Nothing.

  Apparently, I was having a very big-headed monstrosity.

  I was getting tired and irritated and frustrated, but the doctor couldn’t do anything except praise me. I was doing everything right, but forty-five minutes of pushing and I couldn’t feel any difference at all.

  My complaining hadn’t gotten me anywhere, so I was focused on my sort of aimless pushing, repeating the process over and over in my head. Deep breath, hold it for ten, and push, breathe, quick exhale, inhale, go again, repeat. Then I got a break, before it started all over again.

  Nico held my hand the entire time, praising me gently and helping me keep my knees up, practically camped out by my ears. I was getting more and more tired, and the idea of pushing more was just so wrong.

  “Whoa, that’s enough,” the doctor suddenly said, looking up at me. “Can you hold on for a second?”

  I gritted my teeth and told myself to nod, but my head refused to cooperate. I was straining here and my legs were quivering with the desire to press together. “No,” I gasped. “No, I can’t.”

  He smiled a little. “The head is right there, so little soft pushes.”

  “Why not just one great big push and get it over with?” I asked with a grin.

  The scolding look was enough. “No.” He turned to the nurse and slid his arms into his gown and gloves. “You’re too good at pushing, ma’am. Little pushes will do for the moment.”

  I exhaled slowly, finally able to nod.

  Little pushes suck when all you want to do is bear down and get it out, but I obeyed.

  The doctor got back in his position and the world shrank to Nico by my side, the doctor between my legs, and the baby on its way out of me. The sounds of my room faded and dimmed and all I heard were the doctor’s words echoing in my ears.

  “PUSH, Your Majesty. Push harder, harder. Not like that, back off a little… There! That’s it! Keep going!”

  Amazingly, my body was reacting to his words perfectly, once I learned the way of it. I gasped and groaned between gritted teeth, feeling like my body was being ripped apart.

  But I was also feeling something moving, progress happening, and I focused on that.

  “Bella,” Nico breathed, his voice breaking through my haze. “I can see the head.”

  “Push,” the doctor ordered. “Slowly. Hard. Just like that! Just like that! Go!”

  I cried out with the pain, focusing all of my effort and energy on pushing, on doing just what my body wanted to do.

  More… More…

  “The head is out!” the doctor cried. “Steady push to get the shoulders out.”

  “O dio Mio.” Nico was staring down with wonder and awe, already emotional.

  “Little push, Your Majesty.”

  Little push. I’d give him a little push.

  And then… just like that…

  “And it’s done!” the doctor proclaimed.

  I felt the relief, physically, and then it washed over me emotionally and mentally as well. It was over. It was all over.

  Air left my lungs and reentered with a vengeance, over and over and over, drowning out talking and beeping and my own thoughts.

  An ear splitting wail shredded all of that and my life changed.

  “It’s a boy, Your Majesties!” the doctor announced as the baby was cleaned off.

  Nico was laughing, I was suddenly crying, and when my son was placed on my body, my heart grew twenty-seven sizes and I cried harder.

  “Hi, baby,” I heard myself croak, stroking his skin and touching his thick, dark hair. “Hello, sweetie, I’m your mommy.”

  That did little to calm his squealing cries, but he curled against me all the same. The nurses put a little hat on his head, then had Nico cut the cord with his slightly shaking hands.

  This squirmy, screaming thing on my skin was my baby. My son. One moment in, the next minute out. This was the thing that had been pummeling my ribs and my hips and shaking my entire body with his hiccups. This little miracle was my son.

  I was a mother.

  “Oh, Kat,” Nico managed, his voice rough. “He’s perfect.”

  I felt his lips pressing against my hair as he reached out to touch our son’s hand, which curved around his finger. Nico was absolutely right, he was perfect. I stroked his cheek and sniffled loudly. “What time was he born?” I asked aloud.

  The doctor chuckled. “Eleven seventeen, Your Majesty.”

  I grinned through my tears and looked up at Nico triumphantly. “I told you I wouldn’t have a Christmas baby.”

  He shook his head on an exasperated laugh. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”

  I gave him a wink. “But you love me anyway.”

  He faintly smoldered and kissed me in my very favorite way. “I d
o,” he whispered. “I very, very much do.” He touched his forehead to mine, then turned his attention back to the baby, now quieter and sucking on fingers. “What shall we name him, cuore mio?”

  I’d been thinking about names for months, and we’d discussed a few, but nothing had stuck. I had an idea of one, but had never told Nico about it. Now I was certain of it.

  “Luca,” I said softly, my heart clenching at the thought of the young Fiorelli brother who had died before I could meet him. “I want to name him Luca.”

  Nico looked at me in surprise, then looked away, his throat working. Tears welled up in my eyes and I reached up to stroke his cheek, letting my fingers wander into his hair as well, waiting for him to find composure. He finally looked back at me, his eyes wet. “Luca it is,” he choked, kissing my hand. “Ti amo, Katerina.”

  “I love you, too,” I whispered, smiling. The nurse took Luca away for a moment and I turned to kiss Nico properly, too exhilarated to feel anything else for the moment, though I knew it would all come crashing down on me soon.

  “Go get pictures,” I told Nico, who obeyed with a spring in his step. The doctor and nurses took care of me, made me hurt just as badly as birth with that whole placenta thing, and then I was good to go, apparently as healthy as my baby was.

  But way more tired, I was positive.

  Then my baby was cleaned and bundled up and placed back in my arms where he belonged, and Nico pulled up a chair to sit beside us, leaning his head against me.

  I looked down at our son, my little Luca, and kissed his perfectly round cheeks. “Ti amo, Luca. Welcome to our family.”

  The doctor came over and shook Nico’s hand, smiling at me. “Congratulations, Your Majesties. Buon Natale.”

  “Grazie,” Nico told him.

  The doctor left the room and I looked at Nico. “Is it really Christmas now?”

  Nico kissed my cheek. “Close enough. Buon Natale, amore.” He then reached out to touch our son’s hand again. “Buon Natale, Luca.”

  And you know what? It really was.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Christmas morning in Monterra was pretty cool, even when you were post baby delivery.

  The hospital staff came in with cheery smiles and little presents for the hospital patients, and when Luca was brought in, he was wrapped up and placed in a stocking with a little Santa hat on.

  It was the most adorable thing ever and I made Nico take about twelve pictures.

  Lemon and some of my staff had come over early to get me ready for my appearance for the public. People and the press were milling about the streets, since word had gotten out at Christmas Mass that Nico and I had had the baby, though none of the details had been released. The same people who had lit candles to walk to the church had done so again to walk to the hospital and stand outside of it to sing Christmas carols for us.

  Exhausted as I was, the sight and the sound had me bawling.

  Now some of them had come back out to see us, and for Nico to make the final announcement about the new prince.

  We weren’t sharing his name yet, but they wanted to see him.

  Assuming his aunt ever gave him up.

  Lemon was cooing over my son in the corner, not even paying attention to me, as my stylist put me together.

  I was stiff and sore and was going to have to really focus to not actually waddle my way out to the public. But I would be going home later, so I just kept reminding myself of that. I had somehow managed only to have a minor tear and my recovery was going so well, and Luca was, you know, perfect, so the doctor was going to discharge us when we were done. Dominic had his medical staff on hand at the palace, so they could check on the baby and me, if we needed anything. I was ordered to take it easy at home, and Nico looked like he was going to be a very strict enforcer on that one.

  Fine by me.

  I got out of bed and stretched a little, which did not feel as good as it used to. My stomach felt so weird, empty but not empty, and my skin was just gross and flabby. I was already smaller than I’d been yesterday, but it was not a flattering sort of look.

  “Don’t do it,” Lemon said absently, still talking in her cooing voice.

  I sniffed a little. “Don’t do what?”

  She rolled her head to look at me very seriously. “Don’t judge your body right now. You just had a baby less than twelve hours ago. Don’t.”

  Nico snapped his head up where he had been sitting, waiting for me, looking exhausted and gorgeous. “What?” He looked between Lemon and me in confusion. “You are upset with your body?”

  I sighed and stripped off the hospital gown. “Yes, but I’ll get over it. Don’t look, this is gross.”

  Wrong thing to say.

  Nico got up and came over to me, standing directly in front of me so he could see it all. “You are perfect. You had our baby last night, and today is Christmas, and guess what?”

  I tried not to smile, I really did, but he was Nico, and I was me. “What?”

  He smiled and kissed me quickly. “I love you. So listen to Lemon and stop.”

  “Ha!” Lemon crowed loudly, making the baby cry a little. “Oh snap,” she said quickly, snuggling him close. “Sorry, little man, shh, shh… Auntie Lemon won’t let Mommy be mean to herself, no she won’t.”

  I rolled my eyes and let Nico help me into the dress that Lemon had brought over. The one I’d packed in my bag didn’t feel festive enough, and I might look like a deflated balloon, but it was Christmas, so I could play that up.

  Besides, I’d just had a baby. Nobody should look good after that.

  Except Caitlin.

  Kind of hated her.

  Then came the gorgeous winter coat Nico had given me early, and a very fashionable scarf from a local shop. I was the picture of winter fashion for maternity wear, except the coat wasn’t technically maternity. It might never fit me again, but it was warm and pretty, so I loved it.

  I looked at myself in the mirror, and was a bit floored. Crap, I looked good. Not Caitlin good, but certainly good for me.

  “Battle of the Babies, Postpartum Edition?” Lemon teased, coming over to check me out, fixing a few stray bits of hair.

  “Giving women unrealistic expectations of delivery, one stylist at a time,” I added, smiling. Then I yawned and gave her a look. “When is nap time?”

  She chucked and handed Luca to me. “After you greet your adoring fans and get cleared to go home. Smile on?”

  I forced a perfectly cheesy grin on my face.

  “Great,” Lemon said with a nod. “We’ll tell them you got the good drugs if you look like that.”

  Nico laughed and led Luca and I out of the room and down to the front of the hospital.

  The whole thing lasted maybe ten minutes as camera after camera flashed in our faces, and reporters tried in vain to get us to answer all sorts of questions. Nico made his official proclamation of having a royal prince, born just after eleven the night before, and that I and the prince were doing well, as they could all see. Cheers rang out from the entire street, and Luca slept through the whole thing.

  This might work out really well after all.

  We had a few teasing questions about what the baby was like, and at one point I smiled and said, “Loud. Just like his father.”

  Nico gave me a scolding look that everybody loved, and he said, “And he loves his sleep, just like his mother.”

  That earned him a wink.

  “How big is he?”

  “What color is his hair?”

  “How is he eating?”

  I looked at Nico as the questions got more and more ridiculous, and we almost laughed. He leaned closer and whispered, “We’ll say you need your rest and go in now, all right?”

  I nodded, leaning into him a little for effect.

  He told the crowd that we needed to go back in, but wished them all a merry Christmas. They all called back the same, and we turned to go back in.

  A small, waving girl caught my eye and I turned, her fa
ce familiar.

  Then it came to me.

  “Stella?”

  She nodded, still waving.

  I swallowed hard, taking in the change in her. She looked so healthy, so sweet and smiling. She stood with a woman who was obviously her mother, and both were bundled up and waving. We hadn’t been able to coordinate a lunch with her since her discharge, but it was on my calendar for early next year, and I had thought about her often.

  Now here she was.

  I tugged on Nico’s arm and we went over to her, both smiling broadly.

  Our security team kept the press at a distance so we could converse privately, which I appreciated.

  “Hello,” I said as I handed Luca to Nico.

  “Hello,” she replied, smiling her same toothy grin.

  I opened my arms and hugged her around the barrier, which sent several cameras clicking. “I am so happy to see you,” I managed to say.

  Stella rambled quickly that she was happy to see me as well, was back in school, and never fell behind.

  I laughed and took her hands. “That is so good,” I told her. “I knew you would.”

  She looked at the baby, then at me. “You had a prince.”

  I nodded and gestured for Nico to show her Luca. “I did. Sorry about Elsa.”

  Stella oohed over Luca and smiled at me. “Elsa can wait for a princess. I like the prince.”

  “I do too,” I whispered.

  Nico laid a hand on my back. “Bella, you need to come inside.”

  I sighed, and kissed Stella on both cheeks. “Buon Natale, Stella. Thank you for coming.”

  She beamed up at me. “Buon Natale.”

  I nodded and thanked her mother as well, and then Nico and I went back inside, Luca still sleeping, and feeling a bit more Christmasy.

  Going back to the palace was such a relief, and our arrival was been perfect, right in the middle of the family gathering and the meal for the servants and families, so everybody was there and they swarmed us.

  Aria claimed first rights to holding Luca and nobody was going to argue with her. She pulled his little cap back to look at his hair and smiled back at me. “Very dark, and lots of it. Definitely a Fiorelli.”