Chapter Twenty-Eight - Ryurik
I scan the road, willing myself not to rush, an accident on the way to the hospital would only add to the stress. This is the time when I have to step back and let Emily tell me what she needs. I keep a hand on Emily’s knee as she rings through to the hospital letting them know we’re on the way. I think I’ve got everything packed, but if I don’t, I can come back to the estate and get it.
I study the traffic, willing it to move as it abruptly slows to a crawl in response.
“Fuck, come on!” I growl under my breath, hearing Emily breathing deeply next to me.
“It’s okay. We’ll get there when we get there. The baby’s not coming yet.”
“Sorry. I just want to get you there.”
“I know you do,” she says sweetly, calming me down when I should be doing that for her.
Chicago’s traffic can be a nightmare to navigate, but this late at night, maybe I thought it would be a quicker run to the hospital. Frowning, I crane my neck to see if there’s been an accident or a holdup somewhere.
At least it’s moving. That’s a good sign.
Gripping the steering wheel, I slide in and out of the traffic, getting Emily to the hospital in good time. Once we’re inside the hospital everything’s a whirlwind. Emily’s contractions are coming on strong, and I keep her company, holding her hand, and keeping a wet towel across her forehead when she asks for it.
I smirk because despite it all, Emily’s still got her blunt sense of humor intact.
“You’re in good spirits. I’ve called Laura to come to the hospital, and I’ve told your friends. Is there anyone else you want to be here?” I ask her.
She ignores my question, wincing in pain as the midwives come in ready to deliver. “No. I need spirits. How long before they come in here?” she requests as I wipe the sweat from her brow, chuckling.
“You’re funny, detective. Hang in there. I’m with you all the way,” I tell her, convinced I’m more nervous than her about our child.
“Numb from the waist down and sleepy. These are some good drugs; I can’t feel a thing. How about that shit?”
I grin, kissing Emily on the cheek. “There you are,” I whisper. “You look good in hospital-grade blue.”
Emily attempts to give me an eye roll, but it comes off as more of a sleepy smile. “I would look good in a brown paper bag.”
“I don’t know if they have one big enough,” I tell her playfully, my voice soft. “And, you and our little girl are going to be fine.”
When I look into the valley of her cinnamon eyes, I can’t wait to meet our daughter. We haven’t spoken about names that much, but when Emily and I see our little girl in person, I’ve got this feeling we’re going to know what to call her. I want to tell Emily now how I really feel inside, but it’s not the right time.
Emily’s become everything to me, wrapping her love around me like a creeper vine I don’t want to untangle from. I don’t understand the spell she’s woven on me, and how I’ve fallen so quickly for a detective who I deemed to be my enemy not that long ago? But I have, and I can’t go back.
“A little girl. Wow. We are going to have a girl. Happy with that?” Emily asks me as I kiss her forehead, and the midwife gets her ready to push.
“I’m happy with ten toes and fingers,” I tell her in a hoarse voice, so in love with the woman having my child. And that’s a word I’ve never taken lightly. Even with my own loved ones. But with Emily I want to sing the words from the rooftops.
“Me too, Ryurik, me too,” she replies with a light pant as a quiet pandemonium begins in the room.
Everything starts to become a blur, between the contractions, the midwives and the doctor’s coming in and out of the room. All sorts of irrational fears start to crop up in my mind, and this isn’t something I can do anything about or fix.
What if she doesn’t make it through the pregnancy? I keep thinking about Laura and how she almost didn’t pull through. And I didn’t help myself by feeding my worries with bleak stories on childbirths where the mother didn’t make it. Emily’s own mother didn’t survive, and here we are with the same possibility in front of us. Being a man of the Bratva world, I understand how things can go sideways quickly.
“I’m right here, Emily. You can do this,” I encourage as the midwife directs her and Emily squeezes my hand.
“Start pushing, I can see the crown wanting to come through.”
What am I going to do if she doesn’t make it? I can’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.
As Emily cries out on the last push after twelve hours of labor, tears of joy are what I’m left with when the doctor hands us our baby wrapped up in a blanket.
“Congratulations, Emily, here’s your healthy baby girl,” the midwife announces as I pull down the edge of the tiny blanket, to touch our little girl’s tiny hand. I’m in awe of her already, and my body’s shaking. I just know that I’ll protect and guard her with my life until my last breath.
Tears stream down Emily’s face as she sobs, and we exchange heartfelt glances. “You did good, my love, so good,” I croak, the words I want to say choking up in my throat. I slick her hair back as she closes her eyes, holding our child.
“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her body against mine.
“I love you, Emily, and I think I have from the day I saw you in my club. I’m sorry for any pain I’ve put you through, but I’m not sorry about marrying you.” I lay the confession bare the words spilling out with no regret.
“I love you too. And I’m happy being married to you, even if we started out rocky. That’s not how it’s going to end for us. Look what we made,” she says proudly, kissing our baby as I hold out my shaky arms to hold my child.
“She’s too precious. What are we going to name her?”
“Arabelle. She’s got a playful, but gentle spirit, so I think her name should be Arabelle.”
I let the words linger in the air, nodding my head, holding this small being in my arms. “Arabelle. I love it, Mom. Arabelle it is.” I bend to kiss Emily softly, returning my gaze to our child. “Welcome to the world, Arabelle Utkin. You’re the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.”
I return Arabelle to Emily who holds her close to her chest, wanting to bond with her. “You’re finally here. I can’t believe it,” she whispers, kissing my baby’s head. The emotions flowing through me are indescribable, and all the angst about complications of Emily’s delivery have changed to euphoria.
Later on that night as Emily lays awake, I think about the nursery, and what life is going to be like once we arrive home. “I’m glad I had the chance to paint the nursery. I think the giraffe border makes it.” Winking at a very exhausted mom, I hold Emily’s hand as Arabelle curls up sleeping on her chest.
“I agree. I know we have the cot for her, but I don’t think I can be apart from her. I like her right here on my chest.”
“Hey, I’m going to need my turn holding her too,” I add indignantly, but with a smile.
“I’m going to want you with me every step of the way, hubby.”
“I like the way you say that. I love you.”
“And I love you. This is one of the happiest days of my life.”
After a long, tiresome, but rewarding day, we head home with our love bug and things change as we work into a routine together as a family, and months pass by, and our relationship is better than ever.
Once upon a time, the club and all my business ventures were solely what mattered to me, but Arabelle’s birth has changed me profoundly, but those changes were already occurring with Emily. My priorities have shifted and I’m only at the club if I need to be.
Emily’s breastfeeding, but every now and then when she’s tired or needs a rest, I convince her to bottle feed so I can contribute a little more. Today is one of those mornings. I’m due to work, but Laura’s coming over to visit.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say, kissing Emily hello as she pours herself a juice and I test the baby bottle, making sure the milk is the right temperature.
“Good morning,” Emily yawns, different these days, there’s a motherly glow to her that brings more radiance to her. Motherhood suits her. “You look good with a baby bottle.”
She squeezes my butt from behind as I grin, standing beside her as she shifts Arabelle into my arms. “My specialty,” I mumble as I slowly coax the bottle into her mouth and the doorbell rings.
Emily answers it to a woman I’ve never met before. After the liver transplant, Laura has completely transformed from the frail woman I met in the hospital long ago. Her hair is thick and healthy, filled with strands of salt and pepper. Her skin is a normal color and she’s smiling from ear to ear.
We take photos as a family and talk a little. Later on, there’s going to be more visitors with my side of the family coming over to meet Arabelle. I don’t think there’s going to be any dull moments in my house ever again.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. And as the night ends and Arabelle sleeps close by in her crib. I feel complete. Spooning Emily, I kiss her back. We’ve walked together hand in hand, bound by a child, but our love has blossomed into something I never thought I would experience.
True love. I would die for both if I had to; the Bratva is only part of my world, but Arabelle and Emily are the completion of it. Forever.