Blake
I move around Layla, stunned, wobbly, and—fuck, I’m dizzy. I blink and stand over the doctor’s shoulder while a masked nurse takes my old spot at Layla’s knee.
Blinking, I stare between Layla’s legs, and—oh wow—I suck in air through my mouth and lock my knees to keep them from shaking.
They weren’t kidding. Coming out of my woman’s body, which now looks very little like what I’m used to seeing, is the top of a head, blood-smeared and covered in some kind of guck with a mess of golden hair. Even though it looks like something out of a horror flick, warmth swells behind my ribs.
“Here comes another one, Layla.” Dr. Cole, who under the circumstances is as cool as a fucking cucumber, gently pulls at the skin around the baby’s head. “Get ready to push. Give me all you can, okay? We’re almost there.”
“Oh, God . . .” Layla’s whimpered words dissolve on a growl as she bears down. Axelle and the nurse bring her knees to her armpits.
My stomach tumbles, and I’m locked on the tiny head that slowly emerges from her body, inch by inch, until—my leg gives, but I lock it out and avoid bracing myself against the doc’s back.
Lord knows he’s got enough to deal with.
“Mom, breathe.” Axelle coaches her mom, who listens by blowing out a long breath before sucking it back in and grunting through a push.
The room fills with voices, but they all blend together in a symphony of chaos, encouraging and counting. And then the head is out. Oh my God!
Dr. Cole turns my baby’s head, and a fierce growl tries to push from my chest, but the noise never makes it to the surface. I’m stuck, locked on the first glimpse of that tiny face.
My breath catches in my throat. Beautiful . . . the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. A nurse hands the doc what looks like a tiny turkey baster, and I blink hard, trying to focus.
Blood, suction, and then the sound: a tiny whisper of a baby noise.
The room spins. Black darkens the edge of my vision. My head goes light and I lose my legs.
“Man down!” The voice sounds so far away. “We’ve got a fainter . . .”
Nineteen
Layla
A huge thud reverberates through the room.
“Man down!” A nurse rushes to where Blake used to be. “We’ve got a fainter.”
“Blake?” It’s all I get out before the contraction tightens again. I cry out, digging my nails into the bed.
“Here’s the big push, Layla!” The doctor’s busy; his shoulders move as he assists in getting the baby out of my body. Danita stands beside him with an open blanket.
Oh my God, this is it!
“Blake!” I call for him through a throaty snarl and try to push up to see him.
“He’s fine, Layla.” The doctor’s urgent voice calls me back. “You need to concentrate.”
I channel all my worry for Blake into my gut and give one final push—one final burn so deep and intense I cry out—and then the pressure is gone. I fall back onto the bed, panting, trying to keep my eyes open. The sweet sound of my baby’s cry fills the room and tears leak out to stream down my face.
Blake’s up, wobbling and holding back nurses. “I’m okay, dammit!” He sounds almost drunk as he staggers to occupy his spot behind the doctor.
Axelle rushes over to him, dipping under his armpit to hold him up. He takes her support, even though, because of his size, she couldn’t keep him standing if she had to.
Her eyes are red and tearing as she stares in wide-eyed wonder. “Mom . . .” Her hands cover her mouth and her shoulders shake in silent sobs.
“Congratulations.” Danita places the naked and goo-covered baby to my chest. “It’s a boy.”
Blake rushes to my side, Axelle in tow but now no longer holding him up. “A boy.” His whisper is reverent and filled with so much emotion that the power of it breaks through the pain and straight to my soul.
My gown hangs loose around my neck, and our newborn son nuzzles against my bare chest and falls asleep. His tiny warm body presses against my skin, and my heart explodes with love: love for my life and all the amazing things I’ve fought so hard to keep.
“Hey, little man.” Blake’s big hand covers our son. “God, Mouse . . .” His voice cracks, and I catch sight of a single tear as it falls down his cheek. He makes no attempt to wipe it away, wearing the love for his son like a badge of honor. “He’s perfect.” His eyes, so much greener now and filled with love, lock onto mine. He places a tender kiss on my lips, and I taste the saltiness of another tear gliding off his powerful jaw. “Thank you. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this gift.”