“Speaking of today, why were you guys together?”
I press the SEND button and hold the phone to my ear. “He was helping me get the baby’s room ready. Speaking of, we didn’t finish. Would you guys mind going over to my place and putting the mattress in the crib and the bedding?”
“Yeah, of course, whatever you need,” Hannah assures me.
My mom picks up. “Hello?”
“Hey,” I greet her, and, of course, a contraction chooses now to show up. I hiss between my teeth and ride it out.
“Blaire?” she says. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I’m.” Breath. “In.” Breath. “Labor.”
“Oh my God,” she says. “We’ll get on a plane as soon as we can. Dan, pack your bags,” she yells.
“Mom, I’m still on the phone.” I wince from the shrillness of her voice.
“Oh, sorry. Just hang in there, B, we’ll be there soon. Flights are only about three hours and there’s probably one soon.”
“Mom,” I cut her off. “Just get here.”
“Right. I love you. See you soon.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
I drop the phone down on the scratchy sheet that covers me and I look at Casey pleadingly. “Get the nurse. I’m ready for that epidural.”
She’s up and out of her seat before I can blink. Ryder returns almost seconds after she leaves and hands me the water. I gulp it down and then reach for the ice, crunching down on a piece.
“I take it the contractions are worse?” He sits back down and I reach for his hand, squeezing it.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, pressing my head back against the pillow with my eyes squished closed. The pain of the contraction fades and I open my eyes. “Thank you for being here.” I smile at Ryder.
“What am I?” Hannah laughs. “Chopped liver?”
I laugh too. “Thank you for being here too.”
“That’s more like it.”
Casey breezes back into the room. “The nurse said she’d let the anesthesiologist know that you’re ready.”
“Oh, thank God.” Sweat dampens my forehead. “They’re getting so much worse.”
What feels like forever later, but is probably only minutes, the anesthesiologist comes into the room to give the epidural. The drug hits my system and all the pain goes away.
“Feeling better?” Ryder asks, rubbing my shoulder.
“Much,” I say, looking at him gratefully.
Casey fake gags. “Oh my God, you guys are so disgustingly in love.”
I laugh. “You will be one day too, just you wait.”
She makes a face. “Never.”
After a little while, she and Hannah head to the food court to get something to eat for dinner.
“You can go too,” I tell Ryder. “You must be hungry.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You know,” I begin, rubbing my thumb against his fingers where our hands are twined together, “it should probably be weird having you here, but I honestly don’t feel that way. And I’m so sick of worrying about the way I should think or feel instead of owning the way I do feel.”
“And how do you feel?” he asks.
I laugh. “Like I’m hopelessly in love with you.”
His lips quirk into a smile. “Back at ya.” He rises up and kisses my forehead.
I’ve worried for months that I was trying to replace Ben with Ryder, but that was never the case. I didn’t fall in love with what I wanted him to be, I fell in love with who he is. I love him for him. He’s not a replacement. He’s just the man I love.
I once believed you only had one special love in life—one chance to get it right.
I was wrong.
There are infinite chances. Infinite people to complete you.
I will always love Ben, that hasn’t changed, but I’ve found someone else I can love just as much.
Hours later they check me and it’s time to push.
“Do you want me to leave?” Ryder asks again.
I tighten my hold on his hand and he stands up beside me. “Never,” I say.
Everything happens in a rush after that, or so it feels like.
I push and I push while Ryder whispers words of encouragement in my ear.
“You’re doing great. Keep pushing. A little more. You’re so strong, Blaire. You’ve got this.”
And then, I hear it.
My baby’s cry.
I collapse against the pillows sobbing.
My baby. My miracle. My daughter.
“Do you want to cut the umbilical cord?” the doctor asks Ryder.
He looks to me. I’m sweaty, crying mess, but I manage to nod. “Only if you want to.”
He takes the scissors from the doctor and cuts. They then lay my daughter on my chest. I’m still crying, shaking with the sobs, and I press my hand to her warm, sticky body. She cries, her lower lip trembling. There’s a tuft of hair on her head, but it’s so covered in goo I can’t tell what color it is. It doesn’t matter. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“Hi, Ava,” I say touching her tiny hand. “I’m your mommy.” She wraps her fingers around mine and holds on.
I look up at Ryder. “She’s amazing.”