“Oh God, the pressure,” I say, and Drew laughs.
“Focus on me, baby.” I open my eyes to find his expression has gone serious, my hand clutched tight in his as he brings it up to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “Listen to the doc. Only a couple more pushes and she’s here. You can do that, right?”
“I can,” I agree weakly with a nod.
“I know you can. So let’s do this.”
The contraction comes again, bigger this time, and the baby’s heart rate increases. I focus on the sound of my girl’s heart and push with all my might. The doctor says the head is out and Drew lets go of my hand to go look, his eyes wide and his face pale as he stares. I start to laugh because the entire moment is so freaking surreal, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to look at my lady parts in the same way again.
Well. That’s a sobering thought.
But yeah, I can’t focus on that now. I’m giving birth to a baby, for the love of the God.
“One more push and she’s here,” the doctor advises with a small smile. “Get ready, Fable.”
Drew is back at my side, gripping my hand, his sole focus on me. “Ready to meet her?”
I nod, so overcome with emotion I press my lips together to hold back the sob. I’m beyond ready to meet her. And she’s beyond ready to meet us if the next contraction is any indication, because it’s a doozy.
“Push!” the doctor yells, and I do. I push so hard I can feel the baby slithering out of me. “She’s here!”
Within seconds she starts to wail and so do I, relief and love and exhaustion flooding me all at once. Drew kisses me, tells me he loves me, and then the doctor is asking him to cut the umbilical cord and he does, looking nervous as he takes the surgical scissors and snips it. The nurse hands him the baby and he holds her like a football. She looks so tiny, his big hand sprawled around the back of her head, and he brings her to me, a dopey smile on his face as he presents our daughter to me for the first time.
“Want to hold her, Mama?” he asks.
I tug the hospital gown down so my chest is exposed and Drew settles her there, her little face smashed against me. Her hair is black, her body red, and she makes these weird snorting noises as she noses around my breast. “She’s perfect,” I whisper, touching her head, smoothing her downy soft hair with the tip of my index finger.
“Yeah, she is.” He stares down at the two of us in wonder. “I can’t believe she’s here.”
“I can’t believe you made it,” I say, grabbing my daughter’s hand and touching her fingers. They’re so tiny, so perfectly formed, and I glance up at Drew, tears shining in my eyes. I can barely see him but I notice tears are shining in his eyes, too. “I love you,” I whisper, my throat raw, my heart swelling.
“I love you, too. This is a miracle, Fable. We have a baby.” He shakes his head, settling his hand on our daughter’s back. “She’s beautiful.”
“She is,” I agree, gazing at her. I readjust her and try to bring her to my breast and she latches on just like she’s supposed to, her eager little mouth pursed around my nipple and tugging. My heart fills with love and joy and I trail my fingers across her soft cheek, feeling the tears fall.
“Are we still going to name her what we planned?” he asks.
I nod, staring at her. I’m fascinated with her sweet little wrinkled face, her wiggly little body. She feels good, nestled in my arms, snug against my bare skin. I don’t even know her, we only just met, but my love for her grows so big and bright it’s overwhelming. Powerful. I’d do anything to protect this little person. Anything. “Welcome to the world, Autumn,” I whisper. “Your daddy and I are so glad you’re here.”
She lets go of my nipple when I finish talking, her big blue eyes staring up at me. I see it all in her face at that exact moment. Autumn recognizes my voice; she knows I’m her mama and for whatever reason, I can tell she’s going to be wise beyond her years. She’ll probably give us endless grief. Stubborn like her mama and too quiet with her problems like her daddy. She’ll be smart and beautiful and strong and fearless. That’s what I want most for her. That she’ll be fearless and unafraid to face anything. Autumn will believe she can do anything she sets her mind to. Nothing will ever get in her way.
That’s what I wish for my daughter.
It’s the least that she deserves.
Chapter Eleven
Drew
I exit the bathroom wearing only a towel, the steam from my extra-hot shower billowing out of the open door, surrounding me like a thick fog. I head toward my dresser to grab something to wear when I stop short at the sight before me, my breath lodged in my throat, my heart stuttering in my chest.
Fable is on the bed, her shirt yanked above her full br**sts. She’s fast asleep, lying on her side, cuddling Autumn in the ring of her arm, who’s also asleep. Rosebud lips pursed, chubby cheeks pink, my girl must’ve been nursing on her mama and slipped into slumber.
Just like my poor, exhausted wife did.
I stare at them because I can, completely overwhelmed at the love I have for these two beautiful females in my life. Fable’s been going at it full force since we brought Autumn home over two months ago, taking care of our daughter’s every need while I’ve been a selfish jackass off playing football.
It’s your job, Fable tells me time and again. And Autumn’s my job. Don’t feel guilty.
But I do. I offered to hire a nanny but Fable refused. I offered to take them on the road with me because I miss them like f**king crazy, but she refused that, too.
Maybe next season, Fable told me. We’ll have more of a routine going by then.
I don’t know if I can wait that long. I miss them and the season has barely started. I want them to be a part of my routine. I feel like I’m losing out on all sorts of first times. How will I feel a year from now, when Autumn’s older and doing all of those momentous things no parent ever wants to miss? I don’t think I could stand it if I missed hearing her say her first word, seeing her take her first step.
Turning away from them, I go to my dresser and open a drawer, pulling out a pair of boxer briefs and putting them on. It’s my first day off in a while and I plan on spending every moment of it with Fable and Autumn.
“So. Not. Fair.”
Fable’s little groan makes me whirl around, concern racing through my veins. “What did you say?”