And as envious as I am that he gets to see our miracle first, I also know I’ll never forget his expression. The pride and astonishment etched in the lines of his face have forever imprinted in the space of my heart.
MY HAND IS SQUEEZED IN a goddamn vise-like grip.
My heart is too but for a completely different reason.
The sight in front of me. Incredible. Indescribable. Grounding in a way I never thought possible.
“This is the hard one, Ry. Last push and you’re done,” Dr. Steele says, as she looks up at her and then back down to where my eyes are glued. “And go.”
My hand is squeezed. Rylee’s moan fills the room. Her body tenses. “Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.” The words come from out of nowhere. I’m not even sure if I whisper them aloud or just in my head. But the only other thought that flickers is that they belong here.
Full circles.
And then all thoughts are lost. Emotion rules. Pride swells. A tiny pair of shoulders emerge followed quickly by a little body.
Snapshots of time pass. Seconds that feel like hours.
My breath is stolen. Hijacked. Robbed. And so is my goddamn heart because there’s no other way to describe what I feel as Dr. Steele says, “Congratulations, it’s a boy!”
“Oh shit.” My whole world picks up, moves, flips upside down, and reverses on its axis. And I couldn’t be happier about it.
Soft cries. Dark hair. Cutting the cord. A blur of disbelief as my eyes lock on the baby. My son.
Holy motherfucking shit.
My son.
I’m a dad.
The moment hits me like a goddamn sucker punch—every part of me reacting to the impact—as Dr. Steele places him on Rylee’s belly. Nurses wipe him off as Ry’s sobs fill the room when she gets to see him for the first time.
I’m looking at fingers and toes and ears and eyes and trying to figure out how this completely perfect little person is a part of me.
How is it even possible?
Swimming in emotion, I lean down and press a kiss to Rylee’s forehead. Her eyes are as focused as mine on our son. “I love you,” I murmur with my lips still pressed against her skin.
His crying stops instantly the minute Ry cradles him in her arms. He knows. How simple is that? And if I thought I was sucker-punched before, the sight of her holding our son is the knockout punch. I’m looking down at his little face and hers next to each other, and shit I never expected to feel in my life surges through me, wraps around my heart, and fills it in a way I never thought was possible.
My whole fucking world.
My Rylee. My son. My everything.
“He’s beautiful,” she says, awe in her voice and tears sliding down her cheeks. She presses a kiss to the top of his head, and for some reason the visual hits me hard.
The future flashes: first steps, skinned knees, first homerun, first kiss, first love.
Tears sting. My chest constricts. All I can think is that this little boy may get kissed by a lot of women during his lifetime but this first kiss is the most important.
He’s taken from her. Cries fill the room. He’s measured and weighed. Tested and looked over. I can’t take my eyes off him for a single second.
I glance back and find Ry. Her eyes match mine—both so overwhelmed with everything that we don’t have words. I feel like such a sap—the tears in my eyes, the inability to speak—like I should be the arrogant bastard I normally am. It seems even assholes like me have a soft spot. Yeah. Ry’s always been that to me, but I have a feeling I just found another that aces all the rest.
If it’s in the cards.
My heart stumbles in my chest. The memory flickers and dies in seconds. One I can’t place, can’t remember, and yet somehow know it means something. And I don’t give it a second thought when the nurse holds him out to me, wrapped tightly in a blanket.
I freeze. Like arctic-chill freeze because all of the sudden I’m afraid I’m going to hurt him. Thank fuck the nurse sees my reaction because she shows me how to hold him and then places him in my arms.
And then he looks up. And this time I freeze for a completely different reason.
I’m mesmerized, lost, and found again. By bright blue eyes, little lips, and a soft cry. By dark hair and perfect ears. By his untouched innocence, unconditional trust, and love: all three given without asking the first time I look into his eyes.
I go to speak. To reassure my son I won’t let him down. I open my mouth. I close it. I can’t lie to him right off the bat. Can’t tell him that when I know I’m going to screw up sometimes.
But I sure as fuck am going to do everything in my power to be what he needs.
PINCH ME.
This can’t be real. This beautiful baby boy in my arms can’t possibly be mine.
But if this is a dream it’s so incredibly real I never want to wake from it. Sure my body is exhausted, and despite my legs still being slightly numb, I ache all over the place. But the one ache I don’t think will ever go away is the one in my chest from my heart overflowing with love.
I can’t stop looking at him as he sleeps soundly against my chest. The nurses suggested putting him in his bassinet but I can’t bear to part with him just yet. I’ve waited way too long for this moment. I’m fixated on every single thing about him and can’t get over how much he looks like what I think Colton would have looked like as a baby.
When I look across the dimly lit room toward Colton, his phone is up and he is taking another picture in an endless line of photos of us. It’s adorable how he wants to document every moment. His need for his son to have tangible memories of being a baby since he has absolutely none is both moving and bittersweet.
I smile softly as the flash goes off and then raise my eyebrows and wait for him to lower the phone. When he does, our gazes meet, and there’s the slightest flicker of something I can’t quite read. He blinks it away as quickly as it comes and grants me an exhausted smile in exchange.
“Is he sleeping?” he asks, leaning forward so he can see for himself.
“No. Do you want to hold him?” I ask, knowing damn well I don’t want to give him up, and yet also feel I’ve been hogging him. It’s only been two hours since we moved into the maternity suite and between trying to get the baby to latch on and the nurses coming in and out constantly, Colton hasn’t had another chance to hold him.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Leave him be.” He stands and comes to sit on the edge of my bed and leans forward to press a gentle kiss to our son’s head before granting me one as well. Our lips linger momentarily before he leans back, a large sigh falling as he shakes his head again. I get it though, because I keep shaking mine too, trying to wrap my head around the fact the one thing I never thought I’d ever get to experience has just happened.
And I was able to share it with him.
“Well, I guess I can’t stall any longer on the name thing unless we want to make BIRT the official one on the birth certificate.”
“No,” I whisper, harshly contradicting the smile on my lips. “So we’re really going to say our first choice at the same time and go that route?” The whole idea makes me nervous. And I hate that such a lasting, important decision is going to be made on the fly.
“Yep. Perfect plan.”
“No.” He’s going to give me hives if he keeps this up. And he knows it. I can see it in the little smirk on his face and gleam in his eyes. Damn, Donavan.