Epilogue
Wayne
Holy shit. Fuck. Jesus Christ — Code Blue! Wait, not Code Blue, that one’s bad. Code Red? Fuck, I’m not a doctor, I don’t know the code for childbirth. Is there a code?
Who cares. Katie’s in labor.
Katie’s in labor.
Holy shit.
The timing came out of nowhere. There I was sifting through contracts in my new office when—three weeks ahead of schedule!
— I got the call. It’s been a mad rush ever since.
As Mary told me while I raced out to my car, Katie’s water had broken, they were driving her to the hospital, and my only goal was to pickup the baby bag from home and meet them there ASAP.
Just one problem that doesn’t occur to me until I pull up to our home. We haven’t even packed the baby bag yet. Katie’s not due for another three weeks.
Apparently, this little baby doesn’t want to wait for that. She’s in labor.
Fuck, I’ve never been so terrified and simultaneously thrilled.
Baby bag. Right.
We’ve gone over everything she’ll need a million times.
Katie even wrote a list out for me in case she wasn’t feeling up to packing it herself.
Neither of us expected to need it so soon.
I should’ve let the “new father panic” take over when it struck me a month ago, and insisted we pack it anyway, but I didn’t. And now, here we are.
Baby bag. What goes in it?
I can’t remember where we put the list.
There are a couple places it might be, but I’m too panicked to rifle through five different drawers in search of it and.
I need to get to the hospital. I need to get to Katie.
She can’t go through this without me there to hold her hand.
I don’t want her thinking for even a second that I won’t be there.
So, it looks like I’m going to rush this baby bag.
I toss everything I can think of into the massive tote—a handful of onesies so Katie can choose which one she wants, socks, the outfits we painstakingly picked out for the first photos of our kiddo, clothes for both of us, and copies of our insurance information and IDs.
I also get out the car seat that took us a month and a half to pick out and throw it into the back seat of the car.
That’s probably enough, right? Fuck, I have no clue.
Deodorant? Toothbrushes? I toss everything that I think might be useful into the bag and then rush out the door.
I jump into my SUV and keep the pedal to the metal all the way to the hospital.
I park, race inside—so fast I almost forget the damn baby bag—but then as soon as I make it through the doors, I’m overwhelmed by everything.
There are so many hallways leading off the lobby, all the same sterile white with signs directing people to different parts of the hospital, nurses milling about, families chatting in different huddles.
I’ve been here. We visited. But I can’t remember where to go. My brain is too foggy with panic.
I rush to the information desk and bounce impatiently on my heels as the receptionist checks my name against the visitor list and calls a nurse to come escort me to the birthing suite. It feels like it takes hours for the nurse to get here, and I’m almost vibrating out of my skin as she does.
“Mr. Riggs?” a petite brunette asks.
I whirl around, the baby supplies weighing me down. She smiles at the obvious panic on my face, and her calm demeanor helps soothe me a little.
“Yes, that’s me. Is Katie here? Is she okay?”
“She’s doing wonderfully,” the nurse assures me. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll bring you to the suite she’s in.”
I pay no attention to the winding halls and gleaming elevator doors, everything blurring into movement as we approach the labor and delivery unit.
The nurse swipes her badge to let us through several sets of locked doors, and the walls change from pristine white to a muted green, cute posters of animals and childish drawings of families adorning the hallway.
I can’t take much in, because as soon we step into the unit, Katie lets out a harrowing screech that I can hear all the way down the hallway.
“She’s alright,” the nurse assures me when I pale in terror. “I know it sounds scary, but she’s in good hands.”
Her agonized screams echo off the walls as we get closer, and my heart pounds in my chest. What if something goes wrong? What if she winds up hurt, or the baby gets hurt? The sight of Mary standing in the hall outside one the rooms brings relief crashing down on me.
“Is she okay?” I ask without preamble as I rush to join her. “Where’s Dad?”
Mary smiles nervously at me and takes everything from my hands. I can tell she’s trying hard to stay calm for my sake, which I appreciate. I don’t think I could handle someone else being a nervous wreck right now.
“She’s doing just fine. Everett was in a meeting, he’s on his way here now.”
I don’t know how anyone can be doing just fine and be screaming like that, but Mary sounds quite certain of herself.
I leave her in the hallway with a grateful smile and let the nurse lead me over to a little sink with sterile soap bars and scrubs brushes.
I wash my hands all the way up to my elbows, as instructed, and then she ushers me into the room.
“Katie is doing fantastic,” the nurse says as we enter the room, but I can hardly hear her. All I can focus on is the sight of my love, face screwed up in agony. “You can take a seat in the green chair beside the bed.”
Katie’s face is glowing with sweat, cheeks bright red from exertion, but she relaxes when she sees me.
I rush to her side and pull one hand free of the bed-sheets to twine our fingers together.
Her grip almost immediately crushes down on my bones, but I don’t care.
It’s nowhere near the amount of pain she’s in.
“Baby, Katie, look at you,” I say, my voice heavy with praise. “You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you. I’m going to take such good care of you.”
She squeezes my hand even harder, eyes closed and panting through the pain. I watch as the nurses and doctor monitor her, murmuring instructions amongst themselves and preparing everything for when the baby comes.
God, our baby is going to be here soon. I still can’t believe it. It didn’t feel even slightly real until this moment.
Katie finally opens her eyes, her grip on my hand going slack and shaky, and she smiles up at me.
“You made it,” she whispers.
“Of course I did.” I kiss her sweaty brow, smiling so wide, it hurts. “I’d never let you do this alone.”
Pain steals her attention before she can respond, and I hold onto her hand, doing my best to be steady and helpful however I can be. I’ll be here for her, through it all, no matter what—or how long—it takes.
And it does take a long time.
As the hours pass by and the pain only ratchets up, I whisper praise and encouragement in her ear and kiss her knuckles in between contractions.
Seeing her hurt so much makes my heart ache, but she already gave me a whole speech about not demanding pain meds for her while we were planning for this.
She was very insistent on handling it herself, and I just want to be here and do whatever she asks for.
If she changed her mind and wanted meds, I’ll support her, but if she doesn’t, that’s okay too.
It’s all about what she needs right now. I am her support.
I want her to be as comfortable as she can.
The doctor is now between Katie’s legs, calling out firm commands to the nurses and instructing Katie when to push.
“Push!” the doctor says.
Katie’s brows screw up in agony as she tosses her head back on an ear shattering scream and pushes.
A flurry of activity explodes amongst the nurses, but I can only focus on the way Katie slumps and shakes uncontrollably. The pain slowly recedes from her eyes, and she meets mine with an exhausted smile. She seems… different. More relaxed, even if she’s still in pain.
“Christ,” she whispers with a watery laugh. “Did I do it?”
A cry rings out, loud and clear, and our heads snap toward the source.
Our baby is covered in blood, little fists curled, head tossed back as he wails out his first few screams, announcing himself to the world. We both watch in awe as the doctor and nurses do a quick inspection, wiping him off and swaddling him in a soft blanket before approaching us.
Katie’s face is a mask of adoration as the nurse settles our baby down into her arms.
“Congratulations,” the nurse says. “A healthy baby boy.”
“You did it,” I say, absolutely amazed.
A million different feelings wash over me, one after another as I gaze down at my son.
He’s so tiny in Katie’s arms, his little face screwed up as he screams. I reach a trembling hand out to brush over the tuft of soft golden hair atop his head just as Katie trails a finger down his face.
His cries fade quickly, and he seems to enjoy the warmth of our hands on him.
Is this what it’s like being a parent?
Utter terror?
I can’t imagine anything happening to him, worry already coursing through me about whether I washed my hands thoroughly enough to be touching him yet.
What if he has trouble eating, or if he gets sick?
SIDS is a thing, and I’m terrified of moving him at all for fear of shaken baby syndrome.
I don’t think I’ll be ready to let anyone but me or Katie hold him until he’s at least five.
At the same time, though, that anxiety about his safety is the most amazing thing I have ever felt.
I know—without even having to think about it—that I’ll do and sacrifice anything to keep him safe and happy, no matter what it takes.
He waves his little fist, and a swell of pride threatens to take my breath away. It’s such a small movement, but I want to take a million pictures and show him off to everyone. Katie and I did this. We made him. He’s here.
He’s real.
I never thought I could love anyone but Katie this much, but my heart has already doubled in size.
“We did it,” Katie says, just as tears begin to fall down my cheeks.
Her voice trembles with emotion, and I look up to see tears beading on her lashes. I lean in to kiss her, gentle and warm.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips, before looking back down at … at our baby.
Our baby.
“I love you,” she says, both to me and our son.
Later, after the doctor and nurses have done their tests and left our little bundle of joy alone with us, and after Dad and Mary have had their turns cooing with the little guy, there’s finally a moment of calm.
Katie and I lay together in the quiet room, and we stare affectionately as he squirms and settles into Katie’s hold.
“I was supposed to take you to dinner tonight,” I say with a laugh. “Guess I should cancel those reservations.”
She chuckles softly, her smile wide and glowing.
“Yeah, I don’t think I have it in me tonight,” she jokes. “Life never goes the way we plan, does it?”
“I had it all planned out.” I speak softly, still combing my finger’s through our son’s hair. “The ring is still at home, but I don’t think I can wait long enough to ask you.”
Katie stiffens slightly, pulling her gaze away from our baby to meet my eyes. She looks both confused and hopeful, excitement shining through the exhaustion.
“Ask me what?” she whispers.
We both know what I’m going to say before I open my mouth, but it feels even more special because of that.
“Katie, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, and I can’t imagine a life without you. Will you marry me?”
It’s a far cry from the long speech I had planned out, but simplicity feels right in this moment.
I never thought there would be a time where I’d want calm and quiet.
My life before Katie was always a whirlwind of fun, showy and flashy and hollow.
Now, though, all I need is the warmth of her at my side.
Her eyes fill with tears even as she nods, and she shifts to kiss me, slow and adoring.
This is the only thing I can imagine mattering to me now.
“I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else,” she says, beaming into the kiss. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Joy fills every crevice of my body, and it feels like everything in the world snaps into place for a moment. I never expected things to be so perfect, especially after I fucked up so many times on the road to get here.
I had a life planned out for myself, a partnership and ever-flowing champagne and so much money rolling in that I wouldn’t even bother counting it.
Whenever I imagined my future, it was always full of a rotating cast of models and private jets, things for the common folk to hem and haw over.
I was so close to having it all, but I also slept in an empty bed every night.
None of that is in the cards now, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.
Early nights and cozy mornings are my way of life now. I have the most stunning woman I’ve ever had the luck of meeting on my arm, and I couldn’t want someone else even if I tried. Katie changed everything in my life, and I couldn’t be happier.
“I guess that means we’ll be putting your last name on the birth certificate, then,” Katie says teasingly.
I laugh adoringly, looking down at our baby boy’s face. “Maybe we should pick his first name before we go deciding on last names.”
Katie grins, warm and affectionate, and shifts him in her arms so we can take a good look at his face. His cheeks are ruddy and round, his lashes delicate against them. He looks so impossibly tiny that I still can’t believe he’s real.
“I know it wasn’t on our list,” Katie murmurs, leaning her head against my shoulder, “but I think he looks like an Adam.”
It’s simple. Traditional. Katie’s voice sounds soft and loving when she says it, and I can imagine both of us proudly introducing him to the family.
“Adam Riggs.” I test the name out, a smile stretching my lips at how right it sounds. “Adam, Katie, and Wayne Riggs.”
Katie’s smile grows wide enough to rival mine, and she leans up to press a soft, loving kiss to my lips.
“That decides it,” she says, looking back at our son and offering him her finger to wrap his tiny fist around. “Hello, Adam.”
He looses another wail, and both of us chuckle at the response.
“I think he likes it,” I whisper.
It doesn’t feel quite real to be naming my son with the woman who just agreed to be my wife, but I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.
This is what I was always looking for in my search for something perfect.
This is what I always wanted.
And I’m going to give everything I can to prove myself worthy of it for the rest of my life.