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I shake my head. “No.”
“Too late for that.” He chuckles. “The car is here.”
I press my face into his chest and sob. It’s not pretty.
He carries me outside. The driver gets the door, and then we’re in the limo.
The drive is a painful blur.
But the bright lights and quiet hum of the hospital bring everything into shocking clarity.
I’m having this baby tonight. Before the sun rises, my midwife promises. As Mack keeps rubbing my back, she works on my breathing, getting it slower and more deliberate.
And then every contraction becomes a group project. We work together, Mack praising me every step of the way.
“You can do it.”
“That’s it, that’s the way. You’re such a good girl.”
“Look at you, being so strong. So brave.”
“You’re incredible, little one.”
When it comes time to push, I’m exhausted. Mack insists on holding me, my back to his chest, cradling me as the midwife guides our baby into the world. When his little wriggly body is placed on my chest, it’s Mack who holds him there, his huge hand covering our son’s whole back.
"He's amazing,” my husband whispers. “I'm so proud of you.”
I get choked up. I couldn’t have done it without him.
My eyes flutter shut as Mack sings a low lullaby to our baby. It’s not really a nap, exactly, but I drift in and out, still in shocked disbelief. The rest feels so good after hours of labor.
Once I’m given the all clear, Mack eases out from behind me and they help me sit up properly in bed so I can nurse my baby for the first time.
He’s a hungry little pink-faced monster who latches on right away, startling the nurse, who was prepared to help us get the hang of it.
“Isabelle’s a natural,” Mack tells her.
“It’s not me,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the sensation of feeling my son suckle well. I glance up and Mack is just staring at me with a look of utter wonder.
He leans in and kisses the top of my head. “You’re so beautiful.”
It can’t possibly be true. I’m soaked in sweat and disheveled in the worst ways. The last time I brushed my hair must have been eighteen hours ago. Not to mention my body has been through a shocking change. My belly is still swollen, my tits are literally leaking, and I don’t want to think about the rest of it.
But he doesn’t look away.
And in his gaze, I see that he means it.
I feel so utterly loved in this moment that I’ve already forgotten how hard labor was. I would give this man all the babies in the world.
Chapter 22
Mack
“We need to name him.”Isabelle traces her fingertip along our sleeping baby’s soft, round cheek, and my heart threatens to tear itself out of my chest and wrap around the two of them.
“Whatever you want,” I manage to say gruffly.
She looks up in surprise. While she was pregnant, I’d wanted to be an active part of every decision, and had built a database of names to consider.
