Page 95 of Bound Hearts

Sutton is strong, but it doesn’t mean she should have to handle everything that has been thrown at her the last few weeks. One thing after the other. But this moment? I can’t assert any influence, I’m hopeless.

I need to keep it together right now. This is about her, and all of the good between us fills my lungs. There is also a simple fact. “Nothing goes to plan when it involves us, and he’s keeping that tradition alive,” I retort, trying to make her smile.

She bubbles a laugh, and I seem to have succeeded. “Very true.”

“You heard the doctor. Our baby wants to come early.”

“Thank fuck I got waxed this week,” she jokes drowsily. But then her lip begins to tremble. “Listen to me.” Her voice is resolute. “If something happens. You’ll choose h⁠—"

“Don’t say it. Nothing will happen.”

The fact she is even thinking these things has me spinning in worry. There are choices in life we don’t want to make, and that is one of them.

“We don’t even have a name,” she points out.

My thumb rubs her arm resting on the bed. “You choose.”

“No, you.”

“I’m positive this is the part where the one doing all of the work gets to choose.”

She snarls a sound. “Don’t make us go in a circle. You’ll choose.”

The thought is lost as another contraction rips through her. More intense than the last. Sutton hums through her pain, and she claws my arms for stability.

“This one really hurts,” she grinds out as she works through it.

“But you keep going,” I praise her.

And she does, for another round and another. The nurse continuously takes her blood pressure and checks the baby’s heart rate. Everything becomes a haze for us.

“Foster.” Sutton clings to me as I sit half on the bed next to her. “If he’s this stubborn now, then imagine what the hell is in store for us.”

“Levi. He’ll make our days interesting.”

She sighs, resting her head against me while she recovers from her last contraction. “That’s his name, Levi?”

“Yeah. It means bound together… it suits us.”

“Then Levi is a perfect name.”

Her next contraction arrives and breaks our discussion; the doctor returns, and now it seems he won’t be leaving.

“Okay, I think you’re almost there, but I’m going to do a quick check.” Dr. Wolf is back on his stool as Sutton adjusts her knees. Nothing about this vision is enjoyable. “Yep, you are ready to welcome him into the world.”

“For fuck’s sakes, finally.” Sutton releases her relief. Her moment of calm is disrupted by a different type of pain and grunt. “Ow.”

“It’s okay, you can push. I’m not going to count, it’s in your own time,” he encourages.

I won’t urge Sutton to breathe because she is in her own world of focus, and it will only piss her off if I’m completely honest. But she takes a moment when she stops pushing.

“Sweetie, do you want to stay in this position? Or try leaning over the bed or on all fours?” a nurse asks.

“No, I don’t want to stay in this position! Who the hell does?” Sutton snaps and begins to scoot off the bed. Adrenaline is clearly taking over. “I feel so uncomfortable.” She’s understandably frustrated.

We both help her adjust, and I’m massaging her back when another push comes. Then I’m kissing her wet hair from sweat, and on another, whispering to her as the doctor’s voice is only background noise. It’s the fifth push when Sutton grunts while gripping with strength I’ve never seen, and in one moment, everything changes as the sound of a baby’s cry fills the room.

She smiles groggily that it’s over. “You did it.” I kiss her cheek with a euphoria of emotions taking over. A type of cry inside me is building, unknown to me; it isn’t sad. It’s short-lived, though, as our smiles wilt away. They cut the cord before they scoop our son away to the side table, and the rest of the staff are huddled around him.