Chapter Forty-One
ADRIAN
Minneapolis
“It seems fitting that she tried to make her appearance on Valentine’s Day.” Technically, she’d been born on February 15 th , but she’d given us a hell of a Valentine’s Day.
“Why’s that?”
After a moment of silence, Isobel’s eyes rolled as she looked up toward me, likely recalling how we’d spent Valentine’s Day the year before. Back at that publishing conference and dancing around each other with a bucket full of unresolved sexual tension.
“Because it was the first time you—“
She cut me off with a quiet growl. “You better not say it was the first time I gave you a blowjob.”
“While that was quite memorable. It wasn’t what I was going to say.”
Her lips pursed, a look I was quite familiar with, but I continued anyway, reaching down with my fingertip to push a wayward lock of sweaty blonde hair from her forehead.
While she’d looked fucking radiant in her bridesmaid’s dress last night, I think I preferred her disheveled look after having spent the last few hours bringing our daughter into the world. I knew she was a badass, but watching her earlier, I was seeing how strong she was through fresh eyes.
Even though she’d been torn between all the new obligations at work and struggling with the guilt of knowing things would look different from what we’d planned, when she looked at our daughter for the first time it was like a piece of her that’d been missing settled into place. I just hoped that I was a part of their puzzle.
“It was the first time you gave me any sort of sign that my five-year long, one-sided crush on you might be reciprocated.”
Her gaze softened; the worry lines that’d been an almost constant presence for the last four months eased in a way that gave me hope we’d all get through this.
“Although if I’d known then that she was going to be the result, I’d have chased you down and knocked you up a long time ago. You were meant to be her mama, Is.”
What I left unsaid was I hope I’m meant to be yours too.
“Can we go see her?”
“They’ll make you go in the wheelchair. Please don’t argue with the nurses. You just gave birth, so I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
“I don’t care how they get me there. I just want to see her. Make sure she’s okay.” Her voice cracked and her chin quivered as she tried to hold back tears. “Make sure I didn’t fail her.”
“Is, no.” Sitting down beside her, I pulled her forward until her face was buried in my neck. “You have been amazing through this whole thing. You didn’t fail her. She’s strong and beautiful, just like you. And she’s a fighter, just like you. She’ll be alright. We’ll make sure she’s alright.”
Isobel was quiet as I called for the nurse and helped her get settled into the wheelchair. She didn’t talk the entire trip to the NICU, picking at the blanket in her lap. Her silence ate at me. I knew she was beating herself up the baby had arrived earlier than planned. But there wasn’t anything we could change, so we just had to roll with it.
“What did you tell them her name was?”
“I was waiting for you,” I confessed, and she finally looked up at me, a faint smile pulling at her lips. We hadn’t been 100 percent sure what her name was going to be, and I didn’t want to take that away from her.
“Is mom ready to hold baby Blom?”
“Baby O’Neill,” she whispered, reaching for my hand and squeezing tightly as the nurse picked our daughter up from the bassinet.
“She’s gorgeous.” Isobel’s voice was reverent as the nurse placed the baby into her arms.
“She’s a pretty one,” the nurse agreed. “You can have Dad help get you settled with skin-to-skin if you’d like. He’s an old pro.”
I’d spent a half hour with her when I was here earlier until they’d needed to feed her.
“Did she eat?”
“She tried. Isn’t sure how to roll her tongue yet, but she’ll figure it out. If you want to nurse, you can offer the nipple to her, but don’t be discouraged if she doesn’t quite get a good latch. Once she’s a little older, we can have the lactation consultant work with you.”
The nurse quietly let herself out, and I watched Isobel take her daughter in for the second time. The first had been brief and chaotic, but this time seemed peaceful despite her melancholic mood.
“What are we going to call her?” she whispered, staring down at the sleeping bundle, a tear slowly tracking down her cheek. Her fingers trailed over her downy, white-blonde hair before she spoke.
We were waiting until she was born to see what felt like it fit. “Which one do you think fits her?” I asked, tracing a finger along the baby’s hairline.
“Finley. She looks like Finley. And I know you were trying not to sway my decision, but I know Fin reminds you of your dad.”
It meant fair haired warrior. Isobel had marked it as one of her favorites and a nod to my family’s Irish roots—more specifically, my dad. My father’s middle name had been Finn, and he’d been a fighter all his life until it was cut tragically short when I was a boy.
“He’d be proud of you,” she whispered, her voice emotional. I hoped she was right. His presence in my life had been cut short, but I wanted to be the father he had never had the chance to be.
“I hope so.” My voice was rough, unshed tears clogging my throat, but naming her Finley felt right. “Finley is perfect.”
Reaching forward, I ran my thumb along the edge of the baby’s jaw, smiling as her little lips puckered like she was sucking on something in her dreams. “She’s definitely our little warrior.”
Almost two weeks later, when I reentered the hospital room in the NICU, my hands full of coffee and snacks from the hospital cafeteria, Hutch was seated in the armchair in the corner. While I knew we were the same build, seeing my tiny daughter cradled in his large arms was surprising. The time we’d spent here had been filled with difficulties, but she was gradually making progress.
He traced the side of her face gently with his fingertip, likely thinking about all the moments like this he’d missed when he was overseas.
“Thank you for flying out here. I know how you feel about flying, but…” I trailed off, the exhaustion of the last few weeks settling in. We’d expected just to come here for the weekend to be in the wedding, and now we’d be here for at least another few weeks while we waited for Finley to be old enough to fly.
She’d been breathing fine on her own and working on bottle feeding, but she was still small and hadn’t passed the two-hour car seat test yet .
We’d weighed our options and while it wasn’t ideal, neither was a twenty-hour road trip with a newborn to get back to Boston. That’d likely turn into over thirty with how often she was feeding and the plethora of dirty diapers she seemed to go through in a day. And Isobel had been trying to pump as much as she could produce to supplement the preemie formula.
“Of course, man.” He leaned down to place a kiss on the middle of Finley’s forehead. She was so tiny, and she already had all the adults in her life wrapped around her little fingers. “You know Ma would be here if she could be, but with her hours at the hospital and Pops…”
“I get it. But I think it’ll be good to have another adult around, at least for a few days.”
“You know I’m stayin’ to help you guys get back home, right?” He straightened up in the chair, hugging Fin to his chest before he offered the little bundle to me.
“You don’t have to, but I think we may need help. She’s calm now, but this kid has some lungs.”
“Imagine that,” Hutch teased as I sat back in the chair next to his and carefully cradled the baby to my shoulder. “Your kid being a grouchy loudmouth.”
Isobel shifted, a small moan escaping her lips in her sleep. I felt terrible that we seemed to be trapped here, but neither of us had expected the baby to come nearly a month early.
“How’s Is doing with all this?”
Closing my eyes, I sighed. I knew she was having a hard time, but I wasn’t sure how to help her.
“She’s trying to be strong, but this has been hard on her. She already had a lot going on at work, and now…”
“I get it, kids don’t always do what you want ’em to.”
I wasn’t sure how much to divulge to him. The guilt she seemed to carry around with her about taking the promotion and trying to balance motherhood had weighed heavily on her. I wasn’t sure there was room for me in the equation sometimes, but I loved both these women, and I wasn’t ever going to willingly walk away from them.
Our dad and Hutch were stronger men than I was with how they left the country to go serve overseas and miss time with their children. They’d both made sacrifices for their families that I couldn’t even imagine.
“Yah know if you guys need help during the day, I can handle it. I know everyone thinks I’m an invalid, but I can take care of a kid. With Penny in school now, my days are wide open.”
“It’s not that. We’ve got daycare in the building. Neither of us is worried about someone watching her. I think Is is more worried about the work trips she needs to take and the long hours she’s used to pulling.”
“Gotcha.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankle over his knee. The metal of his prosthetic glinted in the overhead light, and I was still shocked he flew all the way here without his cane. “Just know the offer is there if you need it.”
“I appreciate it.”
And I did. Having two parents who worked full-time would be a challenge, but I’d never ask Isobel to compromise her career to change that. It was a relief we’d have family close by if we needed it. Isobel’s support system—even if her parents hadn’t been giant assholes about the unexpected pregnancy—was halfway across the country.
“How much longer do you think she’ll need to be here?”
That was the question we didn’t have an answer to. Finley had been fine for the first twenty-four hours during her observational period, and we’d thought maybe we’d be able to take her home after the first week, but then she’d started refusing to eat.
When she started losing more weight than they were comfortable with, they admitted her to the NICU and started using a GI tube to feed her. Isobel had cried all night when she’d been discharged from the hospital, and we had to leave Finley behind .
She’d woken up the next morning bleary-eyed and exhausted, demanding we go back to the hospital, but I’d made her take a shower and eat breakfast before we headed back.
The nurses had warned us that NICU burnout was a possibility, but as the days wore on, Isobel had withdrawn further and further into herself. And while I tried to be strong and supportive, she almost seemed like she didn’t want me here half the time.
“I think having you here will be a good distraction. She hasn’t wanted to leave most nights, and she only sleeps when she gets to the point of total exhaustion.”
Hutch looked over at her hunched form and shook his head. “Has she talked to anyone about it?”
“The nurses gave me the name of some counselors available in the hospital, but Isobel totally shut down when they mentioned it.”
“Lena struggled with some postpartum issues when I got deployed. It’s hard, man. Absolutely tears you up to see them struggling, but just keep sticking with it. She may not admit that she needs your support, but don’t let her push you out. It may have taken a decade for Lena to cheat on me and end our marriage, but it was never the same after Pen was born.”
I wasn’t convinced it’d taken Lena a decade to cheat, but he was right. The only thing I could do at this point was support Isobel. Because I wouldn’t give up on her, and I couldn’t see my future without her. I didn’t want to imagine my future without her.