Chapter 22
Evie
Singing along with Lake Paige’s newest single, I bounced around the living room, cleaning up.
It was surprising, how good I felt. I’d been so anxious about meeting Jasper’s family. I’d stressed for hours, preparing explanations for the unknown pregnancy, my decision to breastfeed, and any other slightly controversial parenting topic I could think of.
As it turned out, I hadn’t needed to prep a defense. No one asked me intrusive questions or judged my choices.
I’d let myself relax around strangers and even had a good time.
It was eye-opening, really. To step into Jasper’s childhood home, to listen to stories about his parents and watch as his siblings ribbed him playfully.
It hit me in the middle of dinner, just how grateful I was that he was Vincent’s dad. That his loud, messy family also belonged to Vincent.
Because my family? My stomach soured even thinking about them.
Neither my narcissist mother, who’d been through three husbands so far, or my alcoholic father had much love for me, and the feeling was mutual.
The last thing I wanted was Vincent exposed to that type of emotional pain.
I’d come to Vermont for a fresh start. Maplewood was my safe little bubble.
And I’d work my ass off to give my son a safe, nurturing childhood.
I peered out the back window at Jasper’s tent. He was in there, as always. The man hadn’t once complained.
God, I was a terrible person.
Why had I been so uptight about having him here?
More and more, it felt like he belonged in my home, here with Vincent and me.
But I couldn’t very well invite him in and give him a room now.
Where would he even sleep? The house was a two-bedroom, and Vincent had been sleeping in his crib in his own room for a couple of months already.
The stars twinkled above, reminding me that it was a nice night.
Maybe I should go out and talk to him. Thank him again for today.
I ran my fingers over my lips, reliving our kiss.
It had been a mistake. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The pull toward him was undeniable. While I was exceptionally good at resisting these types of urges, tonight was different. After the day we’d had, I couldn’t stop myself from slipping my feet into my shoes and heading for the back door, monitor and phone in hand.
Just as I was unlocking the dead bolt, my phone buzzed.
With a step back, I dug it out, and when Ruby’s name flashed on the screen, I answered quickly.
“Fuck,” she screamed on the other end.
My pulse quickened and my mind spun. Was she hurt?
“It’s happening,” she grunted into the phone. “Motherfucker, this hurts.”
“You’re in labor?” Panic took over, causing me to ask dumb, obvious questions.
“Yes.”
There was shuffling, then Paul said, “We’re on our way to the hospital.”
“I’ll be there.” Without a second of hesitation, I jogged to my room to take off my PJs. “And I’ve got the playlist and the essential oils.”
“Thank you,” he said while Ruby moaned in the background.
I tugged on a pair of sweats, tossed my laptop into a tote bag, then collected the clean pieces of my breast pump from the kitchen.
When I approached the tent, the flap was open, and Jasper was splayed out on top of his sleeping bag, shirtless, reading a book.
My stomach clenched at the sight. Shit, that was hot. And why wasn’t he ever wearing a shirt? It wasn’t that warm out.
“Ruby,” I huffed, tossing him the baby monitor. “It’s time.”
He hopped up in one smooth movement, his expression calm. “Okay, I got Vincent. Is there milk in the freezer?”
I nodded. “And I packed my pump. When do you have to be at work?”
“Tomorrow night.”
He stepped in close and kissed my cheek, his lips warm in the cool night air. “Proud of you.”
As I drove to the hospital, I replayed that moment over and over, then found myself examining the ease with which we communicated and the affection he so openly gave me.
It wasn’t passionate. It was a friendly, fond kiss. Nothing like what had happened a few nights ago.
We were friends.
Nothing more. The kiss had just happened. Exactly like he said it would.
That bastard had worn me down and earned my trust.
So why did I hate how it felt?
“About fucking time,” Ruby roared when I walked into the hospital room. “Five more minutes, and I was going to name this kid after you out of spite. Paul’s been playing that hippie shit.”
Paul gave me a sheepish look, his body sagging with exhaustion.
“I’m only four centimeters,” she raged, standing in the middle of the room, dressed in a hospital gown. “Four fucking centimeters. That’s like a thumbnail. How the hell am I getting this watermelon out?”
With a deep breath in, I slapped on a calm mask and stepped up beside her, squeezing her hand. “Ruby Stone, look at me.”
She obeyed, her hair sticking to her face.
“You are a warrior woman,” I reminded her. “This is primitive shit. Your ancestors used to squat in fields and give birth. You will do this and it will be fucking magical.”
“It hurts so fucking bad,” she growled. “Why did the book say intense period cramps? This is more like I’m being ripped apart from the inside by a rabid raccoon with a grudge.”
“Just breathe, babe,” Paul said from across the room.
With faster movements than should be possible, Ruby picked up the large rubber birthing ball at her side and chucked it at him. “You tell me to just breathe again and I’ll make sure you never draw another breath.”
Paul, to his credit, took it like a champ, only smiling lovingly at his wife. “You’re doing so great.”
When she looked back at me, her anger had been replaced with fear. The look brought me back to Vincent’s birth, when our roles were reversed.
“Let’s get the playlist going and get fucking focused,” I said. “This is the hard part, but you’re a bad bitch. You do not quit.”
Once I’d connected to her Bluetooth speaker, I cued up the Swedish death metal she had requested.
As a nurse scurried in, wearing a confused frown, Ruby yelled, “Track three. The one with the screaming. It helps me focus.”
The nurse adjusted the fetal monitor and smiled at Ruby. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something calmer?”
I flinched. This woman did not understand what kind of bear she was poking. “I’m sorry. Is there a Spotify playlist titled Screaming Into the Void While Pushing a Human Being Out Of Your Vag?” Ruby asked in a demonic voice. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’m good.”
Bristling, the nurse gave her a tense smile and headed for the door. “I’ll get more ice chips.”
As she stepped out, Frankie arrived, wearing a tank top and her coveralls tied at the waist. She had oil smeared on her cheek, and her wild hair was pulled back into a knot on top of her head.
“I’m here,” she said. “Great song.”
“Paul doesn’t like it,” Ruby grumbled. “I know you wanted whale songs, honey,” she said to him, her tone softening just a little. “But I want Wolves of the Apocalypse—”
She doubled over, moaning.
With a hand on her back, I spoke calming words to her.
“I’ve got this.” Frankie approached Paul, who physically stiffened in her presence. I couldn’t blame him. Who wouldn’t be afraid of my badass friend?
“Paul,” she said, puffing up. “She’s birthing your child, and you have an awkwardly large head. There is no fucking compromise.”
When all he did was nod, wide-eyed, Frankie smiled and turned back to us, rubbing her hands together.
“You bitches ready? Let’s have another baby.”
The nurse returned with a cup of ice chips, noting that they had several deliveries and informing us that the doctor would be in shortly.
Soon, we discovered that it helped if we scratched her back while she screamed to the music through each contraction and threw anything she could get her hands on at Paul.
Paul, to his credit, was proving to be extremely good-natured and supportive.
“Don’t come back without an epidural,” Frankie shouted at the nurse, her voice barely audible over the death metal and Ruby’s screeching.
“The anesthesiologist is on her way,” she said. Again. She’d told us that the last time she came in. And the time before that.
And Ruby was running out of steam.
The smell of antiseptic and the beeping of the fetal monitor brought with it flashes of my own labor. The fear that had overtaken me that day prickled inside me again. The hiss of the oxygen line reminded me of the numbness and terror I’d felt.
I’d had Ruby’s and Frankie’s hands to squeeze, but I’d still felt so alone. Initially, I’d assumed it was my punishment for not knowing I was pregnant. For not seeing the signs. For being so detached from my body that I had no idea I’d been creating a human life for the better part of a year.
But as Paul sat on the bed, his forehead pressed to Ruby’s, whispering words of love, there was no room in my heart for envy. Instead, a strange peace enshrouded me.
I’d survived. Not just labor and delivery, but the shock and the fear. And Vincent was thriving. I’d figured it out with no preparation or planning.
Maybe I’d already done the hard part. Maybe I could let this go and focus on what came next.
Maybe it was time I stopped punishing myself for my sins.
“Paul,” Ruby cried as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms. As I looked on, I thought about Vincent. The feeling when he was placed in my arms for the first time. So tiny and small, so fragile.
Frankie and I stepped out, giving Ruby and Paul privacy as they cried happy tears and admired their healthy baby.
I’d really only known Paul as Ruby’s straitlaced accountant husband, but today, I’d seen a different side of him. He was so tender, so demonstrative and affectionate. I could see how Ruby had fallen in love with him.
And that made me think about Jasper. His quiet presence. The way he kept showing up, day after day, even when I snapped at him or pushed him away.
He was devoted to Vincent.
“He’s also devoted to you.” Frankie handed me a Diet Coke from the vending machine.
“He’s a great dad.”
“It goes further than that. Think about it.” She held up a finger. “He’s entitled to time with Vincent on his own, but has he ever pushed for it? Or does he show up to support you, to help you, and to make you feel comfortable?”
Heart clenching, I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
“Vincent is a baby,” she went on. “He doesn’t care where he’s sleeping and shitting. It could be at the farm or it could be at your house. But Jasper’s sleeping in your backyard.”
I dipped my chin. “Yes. He wants to be close by. What are you trying to say?”
“He brings coffee, fixes things around the house.”
“His nephew usually delivers the coffee,” I countered.
Frankie clasped her hands and looked up at the ceiling. “Dear God.” After a huff, she leveled me with a look. “Think, Evie. Who is he really supporting here?”
The truth I’d been denying came barreling over me. She was right. Jasper did way more than necessary. He went above and beyond. For me. But…
“Since when are you the voice of emotional clarity?”
“I’m feeling sentimental, okay?” she groused. “Don’t hold it against me. I operate under the general assumption that all men are shit and disappointments. But once in a while, I’m pleasantly surprised. Take Paul, for instance. He stepped up. Even when she was throwing things at him.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. She wasn’t wrong. Ruby had been throwing ice chips at Paul’s face while he coached her, and he was completely undeterred by the random acts of violence.
“Your baby daddy is one of the good ones,” Frankie muttered. “And trust me, it’s very difficult to say those words.”
He really was. But if Frankie of all people could see it? Damn.
“Also,” she said. “He’s extremely easy on the eyes.”
I slumped back in my chair. “Oh, I’m aware. Did you know he hangs out in his tent and reads books while shirtless?”
She made the sign of the cross. “The man reads? Hot damn. Ooh.” She snapped up straight, the move so abrupt that Diet Coke sloshed out of her can and onto her jeans.
“I have an idea. We could start an Instagram account where all we post is pictures of hot men reading. You know, like the ones that are full of images of hot men holding puppies. Boom. Millionaires.”
Giggling, we clinked our Diet Coke cans together.
Throughout the morning and into the afternoon, several people showed up to visit.
Bitsy and Marigold with a massive basket of baked goods and a baby blanket, Nora with homemade nipple cream, and Basil and Etienne with a wardrobe of designer baby clothes and an assortment of cheeses.
If I knew Maplewood, the town would turn this waiting room into a massive potluck celebration.
On the way home, a surge of energy ran through me. For months, I’d begrudgingly accepted Jasper as a coparent. Tolerated his presence and worked damn hard to maintain distance. But he was so much more than just a coparent.
When Ruby had gripped Paul’s hand like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth during those last minutes, something in my chest twisted.
I wanted that. Partnership, understanding, the complete certainty that I wasn’t alone in the difficult moments.
A partner who showed up, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Frankie was right. Jasper wasn’t just helping with Vincent; he’d been quietly supporting me too.
He showed up, over and over again. He held me when I broke down. He built me up and hyped me up when life was daunting.
I’d spent my life believing that I’d never find my person, and I’d resigned myself to being alone. Yet for weeks, my person had been sleeping in my backyard.