Epilogue
EPILOGUE
M y water broke while I was waddling up the townhouse stairs with a basket of washed baby clothes. I slipped and landed hard on my butt, having managed to catch the handrail.
“Ahh.” Everything in the region of my belly twisted and cramped. My vision fuzzed out to black.
I resurfaced, lying on my side, one hand still clutching the handrail. “Call Dominic,” I croaked at the fancy watch he insisted I wear. He’d run out to look at a house that had just gone up for sale.
“Your heart rate spiked,” he barked tensely, a car door slamming. He monitored my vitals through the phone watch. “I’m coming. Do you need an ambulance?”
I blinked, trying to think it through. “No.”
“Hang on.”
We kept the phone line open while he raced through traffic, horns honking, and I had another contraction. Then he was there, kissing my forehead and helping me off the stairs.
“Dry clothes,” I wheezed. “Leggings are wet.”
“Kelsey—”
“Now.” I hunched over, gasping—the contractions were getting closer. “Hurry.”
Cursing, Dominic ran up the stairs and came back with pajama shorts and the hospital bag I’d had packed since July. He yanked my leggings off and helped me step into the shorts and flip-flops.
A wave of heat crashed into me when he opened the car door. Dominic slipped an arm around my back and got me into his car. I was moaning and crying by the time he backed out of the driveway.
“It’s happening fast,” he muttered.
My labor lasted about five hours. Dominic held my hand and talked me through it the entire time. As long as I could see his face, I was tethered, able to get through one minute at a time.
He cried when our baby girl was born, kissing my hand. “You did it. Well done, love.”
They placed her in my arms, seven and a half pounds of wonder, a cap of dark hair on her head. “Oh.” I sniffed, my throat tight. “Hello, baby girl. We’re so happy you’re here.”
“Have you picked out a name?” asked my nurse.
Dominic and I glanced at each other. One side of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin while he wiped his face with a tissue.
After the last eight months of living together, I couldn’t imagine life without him. He sat beside me on the bed and put an arm around my shoulders.
“Robin,” I said, smiling down at my girl. “Robin Ophelia Lockwood.”
There was an impatient rat tat tat on the door. “Dominic,” Ophelia shouted. “I’m waiting.”
“Ma’am,” the nurse called. “Please wait in the reception room.”
“It’s alright,” I called feebly. “Come in, Auntie.”
Ophelia’s mobility scooter revved softly as she drove inside. “Healthy?”
Carefully, I passed Robin, blinking sleepily, into Dominic’s arms. “Yes,” he said.
“Bring her here.” Ophelia took out her phone and snapped pictures. “Finally. Yes—she looks like a Lockwood. See that hair? You did well, Kelsey. Don’t wait too long to have another.”
I huffed, closing my eyes. “We’ll see.”
“What about the house, Dominic? We can’t wait forever.”
“This morning I toured the best thing I’ve seen so far.”
I opened my eyes. “Really?”
He smiled at me. “It’s close to Maria’s.”
My eyes burned, we’d been watching that neighborhood closely. “I love that.”
“Well,” said Ophelia. “Thank God I’m around to keep you two on track.”
The End