28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
chapter twenty-eight
. . .
Carter
I surveyed the nursery with a mix of pride and apprehension. The once stark white walls now glowed a soft sage green, creating a soothing atmosphere. I'd spent weeks agonizing over the perfect shade.
My eyes landed on the crib, its dark wood gleaming in the afternoon light. I ran my hand along the smooth railing, remembering the hours I'd spent assembling it. Olivia had offered to help, but I'd insisted on doing it myself. It was my first real act as a father, and I wanted to get it right.
The mobile above the crib spun lazily in the breeze from the open window. Foxes, rabbits, and owls danced in a never-ending circle.
The changing table was already stocked with diapers, wipes, and tiny outfits. The sight of those miniature clothes still amazed me. How could someone so small need so many things?
The rocking chair called to me, and I sank into it. This is where Olivia would sit to feed our baby, where I'd rock him to sleep on long nights. The same chair in which my mother had nursed and rocked me. It was strange to think about, yet oddly comforting.
As I sat there, my mind wandered to the journey that had brought me here. A year ago, I’d never have imagined myself doing any of this—building a nursery, preparing to become a father. The idea of letting anyone get close enough to start a family had been unthinkable.
But Olivia had changed everything. She'd waltzed into my life with her sunny smile and unwavering optimism. Now I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of our son.
The fears still lurked beneath the surface. What if I wasn't cut out for this? What if I made the same mistakes my father had? But alongside that fear was a fierce commitment to do right by my child, to give him the love and support I'd missed out on from my own father.
I stood up, moving to the bookshelf. My fingers traced the spines of books I remembered from my own childhood, along with new ones Olivia had insisted we needed. The thought of reading these to our son, of watching his face light up with wonder at the stories, filled me with indescribable warmth.
The quiet shuffle of feet pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Olivia standing in the doorway, her hand resting on her swollen belly.
“How's it coming along?”
I gestured around the room. “See for yourself. What do you think?”
She waddled into the nursery, taking in every detail. She paused at the crib, running her hand over the bedding I'd meticulously chosen to match the walls .
“It's perfect. You've done an amazing job.”
I stepped up behind her, wrapping my arms around her and resting my hands on her bump. Our son kicked against my palm, as if agreeing with his mother's assessment.
“I hope he likes it,” I said, suddenly uncertain.
Olivia turned and looped her arms around my neck. “He's going to love it because his daddy put so much love into creating it for him.”
The knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach eased. This was real. In a matter of weeks, our son would be here, filling this room with his coos and cries.
As I held Olivia in the nursery we'd created together, I knew I was more than ready for this next chapter of our lives.
“Oof.” Olivia clutched her stomach, and a warm wetness seeped into my socks. “I… I think my water just broke.”
We both froze. This was it. The moment we'd been planning for, dreaming about for months. And yet, now that it was here, I was utterly unprepared.
Get it together, asshole . Olivia needs you.
“Okay,” I said, sounding steadier than I felt. “Let's get you changed into some clean clothes and to the hospital.”
She nodded rapidly, and I guided her out of the nursery, one arm wrapped securely around her waist. I forced my racing thoughts into some semblance of order as I went through our mental checklist. Hospital bag? Check. Car seat installed? Check. Phone to call Mel? Shit.
I helped Olivia settle onto the bench at the end of our bed then pulled my phone from my pocket and quickly dialed Mel's number.
“Carter?”
She must've known something was up. I never called—only texted.
“Olivia's water just broke. We're heading to the hospital now.”
Mel's calm voice soothed my nerves. “Alright, I'll meet you there. Remember your breathing exercises, both of you.”
In the background, I heard Blair shout. “It's happening?! Baby time?!”
I ended the call, shoving my phone into my pocket and grabbing Olivia’s from the nightstand. When I returned to the end of the bed, she was hunched over, her face contorted in pain. A contraction, I realized with a jolt.
“Breathe, Sunny,” I murmured, rubbing her back in slow circles. “Just like we practiced, remember?”
Olivia nodded, her breath coming in short pants. As the contraction eased, she looked up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It's really happening, isn't it?”
“Yeah, it is.” I bent down and brushed her forehead with my lips. “You ready to meet our son?”
A smile broke through her pained expression. “More than ready.”
I swear we hit every red light on the way to the hospital. My fingers drummed on the steering wheel as I muttered curses. Every groan from Olivia sent a spike of panic through my chest, but I forced myself to stay focused. She needed me to be strong.
We pulled up to the hospital, and I pulled into one of the dedicated “expectant parents” spots. I'd practiced this trip a dozen times, but I'd never admit that to anyone other than Olivia. She'd teased me every damn time, but I wanted to be prepared. I barely remembered to put the car in park before I was out and around to her side. A nurse with a wheelchair appeared as if by magic, helping me ease Olivia into it.
“First baby?” she asked kindly as she pushed through the automatic doors.
I nodded mutely, the reality of the situation crashing over me. We were having a baby. Right now.
Nurses bustled around, hooking Olivia up to monitors and asking questions faster than I could process. I stood by her side, holding her hand and trying to remember how to breathe.
Mel burst into the room, radiating professional calm. “Alright, let's see what we've got here.”
She examined Olivia quickly, frowning as she studied the monitor. The change in her expression sent a chill down my spine.
“What's wrong?”
Mel turned to me. “The baby's heart rate is dropping with each contraction. We need to get him out now.”
The world seemed to lurch violently, the floor unsteady beneath my feet. “What does that mean?”
“It means we need to do an emergency c-section,” Mel explained. “Olivia, Carter, I know this isn't what we planned, but it's the safest option for you and the baby. ”
Olivia's grip on my hand tightened, her eyes wide with fear as she looked up at me. “Carter?”
I swallowed convulsively, pushing down my own terror. “It's okay, Sunny. We've got this, remember? Whatever it takes to keep you and our little guy safe.”
She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Okay. Let's do it.”
The next few minutes were a rush of activity as nurses prepped Olivia for surgery. I was handed a set of scrubs and told to change quickly if I wanted to be in the operating room.
My hands shook as I pulled on the paper-thin garments. The fear I'd been holding at bay came crashing over me in a deluge. Images flashed through my mind—my mother's pale face in a hospital bed, her lifeless body on the bathroom floor, the mound of dirt on the day we buried her.
No. This is different. The doctors know what they're doing.
But the suffocating fear wrapped around my chest, threatening to overwhelm me. I braced myself against the wall, trying to steady my breathing.
A hand on my shoulder made me jump. I turned to find my father standing there.
“Dad?” I choked out. “How did you?—”
“Mel called me. Said you might need some support.”
“I can't lose her, Dad,” I whispered, feeling like a frightened little boy again.
My father's grip on my shoulder tightened. “You listen to me, Son. Olivia is strong. That little boy of yours is strong. And you? I’ve never met anyone tougher than you. You’re stronger than I ever was.”
I shook my head, feeling anything but strong. “I'm terrified. ”
“Of course you are. Becoming a parent is terrifying. But you know what? It's also the most amazing thing you'll ever do.”
He pulled me into a hug, and in that moment, I let myself be a child again, drawing strength from my father's embrace. “Now,” he said, pulling back to look me in the eye, “you go in there and be there for your son and his mama. They need you, Carter.”
I drew in a breath and squared my shoulders. As I turned to go, my father called out, “I'll be right here waiting. Go meet my grandson.”
With one last nod to my father, I made my way back to the operating room. The fear was still a constant presence in the back of my mind, but it no longer threatened to overwhelm me. My father may not have been there for me as much as I’d needed after Mom’s death, but he was here now. When I needed him most.
I entered the operating room to find Olivia already prepped and draped. The relief on her face when she saw me made my heart clench.
“Hey, Sunny,” I said, moving to her side and taking her hand. “Sorry I'm late.”
She mustered a weak smile. “Better late than never, right?”
I leaned down and kissed her gently.
Mel appeared on Olivia's other side, her face obscured by a surgical mask. “Alright, Olivia, Carter. We're ready to begin. You'll feel some pressure, but no pain. If anything feels off, let us know immediately.”
I nodded, my eyes locked on Olivia's face. She looked pale and scared, but there was a resolve in her eyes that took my breath away.
“I love you,” I whispered, gripping her hand .
“I love you too,” she replied, her voice shaky but strong.
The next few minutes were the longest of my life. I focused on Olivia, murmuring words of encouragement and love, trying to distract her from what was happening on the other side of the surgical drape.
And then, suddenly, a cry pierced the air. Strong and indignant, it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
“It's a boy!” Mel announced, her voice filled with joy. “Dad, want to come cut the cord?”
I looked at Olivia, reluctant to leave her side, but she nodded encouragingly. “Go,” she whispered. “Go meet our son.”
I moved around the drape on shaky legs. And there he was. Tiny, red-faced, covered in goo and screaming his little lungs out.
Hands trembling, I cut the umbilical cord, severing the physical connection between Olivia and our baby. But as the nurse placed him in my arms, wrapped snugly in a blanket, a new connection blossomed. This was my son. My flesh and blood.
I carried him back to Olivia, tears streaming down my face, and sat next to this perfect woman who turned my world upside down. “Look what we made,” I said, my voice choked with emotion.
Olivia’s face crumpled as she looked at our son for the first time. “He's perfect,” she breathed, reaching out to touch his cheek.
As I sat there, holding our baby while Olivia was stitched up, I was conscious of a profound shift in my world. Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought was important paled in comparison to this tiny human in my arms.
Years of working my ass off to be the best in my field seemed insignificant. The passion, waning as of late, was now replaced by the fiercest love I’d ever felt. My life had a new purpose.
I looked down at my son, taking in his button nose—definitely Olivia's—the shock of dark hair on his head, and the way his little hand had escaped the blanket to wrap around my finger. “Welcome to the world, little man,” I cooed. “We've been waiting for you.”
In that moment, all my fears and doubts melted away. This was what I was meant for. To love and protect this tiny person, to guide him through life's ups and downs, to be the father I'd always wished I had.
As the nurses prepared to move Olivia to recovery, I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to our son's head. “I promise,” I whispered, “I will always be there for you. No matter what.”
I caught Olivia's eye, and the love I saw there nearly brought me to my knees. We'd done it. Against all odds, through all the fear and uncertainty.
As we made our way to the recovery room, our baby boy nestled safely in my arms and Olivia's hand in mine, a sense of peace settled over me. This was my family. My home. And I would do everything in my power to protect and cherish them.
The fear that had gripped me earlier was a distant memory. There was nothing but all-encompassing love. For Olivia, for our son, for the life we were building together.
As we settled in, nurses fussing around us, I couldn't take my eyes off our little family. Olivia, exhausted but radiant. And our boy, now quiet and content, his little back rising and falling with each breath as he lay on his mother’s chest. I sat at Olivia’s bedside, watching her fingers trace our baby's features with wonder.
“He needs a name,” Olivia said.
I nodded, mentally reviewing the list we'd compiled over the past few months. But as I looked at our son, peacefully sleeping in his mother's arms, I knew. “What about Case?”
Olivia smiled down at our son. “Case Cassidy,” she whispered, testing the name. “I love it.”
As if recognizing his name, little Case's eyes fluttered open. He yawned widely, his tiny fist waving in the air before settling back against Olivia's chest.
A knock at the door drew our attention. My father poked his head in, his eyes immediately gravitating to the bundle in Olivia's arms.
“Come in, Dad,” I said, waving him over. “Come meet your grandson.”
My father approached slowly. As he reached the bedside, I saw tears glistening in his eyes.
“He's beautiful,” he said, stooping to look closer. “What's his name?”
“Case,” Olivia replied, still smiling despite her exhaustion. “Case William Cassidy.”
My father's head snapped up. “William?”
I nodded. “After his grandfather. If that's okay with you?”
For a moment, my father seemed at a loss for words. Then, to my surprise, he stepped around the bed and hauled me into a tight embrace. “I'm so proud of you, Son,” he whispered. “Your mother would be too.”
Neither of us were dry-eyed when we pulled away. I felt an odd sense of catharsis. Nothing could bring my mother back. Her loss left scars on our family that would never completely fade. But maybe we could find some of the love we’d lost in the new life we’d created.
I looked at Olivia, her eyes shining with love as she cradled our son. At my father, gazing at his grandson with a mixture of awe and adoration. At little Case, peaceful and perfect, unaware of the impact his arrival had made on all our lives.
This was my family. Imperfect, complicated, but bound together by a love stronger than any force I'd ever known.