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He tells me what happened from the moment I started convulsing in his arms to the moment I just woke up. I feel tears running down my face as the shock and fear of it all slam into me. Knowing how close we came to dying is both terrifying and, in an odd way…confirming? I’m not sure that’s the right word. Whatever drugs they have me on are messing with my head. I just know, I felt like people—though kind—were acting like I was overreacting about fearing the worst. That my fear of what could happen was silly and almost irrelevant. Something like this proves that it doesn’t matter how routine a surgery is. Things can and still will go wrong, and everyone’s fears are valid.

“I want to see him. I want to meet our boy.”

“Let me get the nurses in here to check you over and see what they say first. He can’t leave the NICU, and you lost a lot of blood, so you have to take it easy.”

“I don’t want him to be alone, Lick.”

“He’s not alone. Look.” He pulls out his phone and shows me dozens of photos of our son being held by Danny and Sophie, but also Knuckles, Dot, and Henny.

“He’s not been alone, Em. He has the Royal Bastards guarding him. He’s the safest baby in the city right now.”

I can’t help it. That sets me off again. My hormones must be all over the place, but I really wanted to be stronger than this.

“I’ll get the nurse, and then we can see what she says. I can’t wait to meet our son with you.”

“You haven’t met him yet?”

“Not without you. We do this together, or not at all.”

It’s three days before I get the all-clear. It’s also the day they say I can go home, which sucks. I don’t want to go home. That means leaving the hospital without my son. How am I supposed to do that?

Lick wheels me to the NICU as my nerves build. I’m excited, but God, I feel like I’m going to throw up too.

“You ready?” he asks as the nurse beside us smiles and scans her ID card so we can enter the restricted area.

“More than ready.”

My hospital bracelet is scanned along with the one they put on Lick, identifying us as Baby Richard’s parents. A second set of doors opens. When we enter, I see Knuckles on the far side of the room, looking down into an incubator with a smile.

He looks up when he senses our approach. “There she is. There’s your mama,” he says, making me cry again. Dear god, these tears are going to kill me.

Knuckles walks over and bends down, gently easing me to my feet so he can wrap his arms gently around me. “Missed the fuck out of you, girl.”

“I missed you too,” I admit, holding him tighter, wishing I had parents who loved me enough to be here and support me. I didn’t even get a phone call to congratulate me. Not that I thought I would. I might not have reached out to tell them I was pregnant, but Dan would have called them to let them know, just because he likes to stir the pot. For some reason, their slut-shaming only ever applied to me. They were happy to retain a basic relationship with him. He’s the only reason they’ve ever spent time with Danny and Sophie over the years, but that was nipped in the bud when the kids got older and could see for themselves what judgemental assholes they are.

Knuckles pulls back and kisses my forehead. “Go meet your son. We’ll catch up afterward.”

I offer him a watery smile and gingerly step closer to the incubator where the most beautiful little boy is looking up at me. “Hey, little man.”

I look up at Lick, who moves to stand beside me, his hand reaching over to grip mine tightly. “Fuck, he’s so small.”

“He’s perfect.”

“Hello, mum and dad, I presume?” The nurse approaches with a smile.

I nod, unwilling to tear my eyes away from him.

“My name is Tammy, and I’m the one watching this little guy today. He’s doing amazing. He’s mostly breathing on his own, and his heart rate is strong and steady. He’s a little jaundiced. After he’s had a cuddle, we’ll pop him back in here and turn these special lights on that will help break down the buildup of bilirubin.”

“But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“We have lots of very sick babies in here, Miss Richards. But I’m confident your son won’t be with us long. I wasn’t sure what to expect when he arrived, but he’s a little miracle.”

“He really is.”

“He still needs a name. Do you have any you like?” Lick asks me, as he strokes a finger across his son’s cheek.

“Kendrick. In Old English, it means royal power, a little nod to who his dad, grandfather, and uncles are.”