Chapter Thirty-One Sloane
Chapter Thirty-One
Sloane
It was a breathtaking wave of déjà vu, watching him cradle our newborn son, Nicholas Xander Davis, for the very first time. The world seemed to hush and soften around us until there was nothing but the three of us in a bubble of timeless love.
My heart swelled, brimming with a memory so vivid it felt like I was living two lives at once. I was pulled back to the day our daughter, Harper, was born, when he held her with the same awe. It was an echo, a perfect moment returning to bless us again.
His expression was the same as it had been then—beautiful, mesmeric, eyes wide open with wonder.
I remembered it clearly, yet seeing it again now, etched into his face as he gazed down at our son, nearly undid me.
His emotions overflowed in silence, a raw depth of his love.
His eyes glistened with unshed tears, shimmering under the light as they flickered between the tiny, perfect features of our baby boy and back to me.
He was captivated and overcome by emotions.
He parted his lips as if to speak, to give shape to the joy trembling within him, but no words came. He was too choked up, too undone by the miracle resting trustingly in his arms. At last, a single tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek. It was the most eloquent sentence he had ever spoken.
From my bed, weak yet wonderfully worn out, I managed only a tired smile.
Small as it was, it carried the entirety of my heart: my gratitude for him, my awe for our son, and my love for the family we had built.
He saw it, and something in him softened even more.
His answering smile was brighter and stronger, a sun breaking through the clouds of overwhelming emotion.
“Come here,” I whispered, my voice rough with exhaustion. “I want to hold him.”
Cameron crossed the room slowly, careful with every step as if our son’s sleep might be disturbed by the slightest misstep. He held Nicholas with steady reverence, then bent to place him gently in my arms.
I gazed down, taking in every peaceful detail of our son’s face—the tiny button nose, the gentle flush of his cheeks. A fierce wave of love surged up from the depths of my chest.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” I said softly.
Cameron could only nod, his throat working against the knot of emotion that still held his voice captive. He reached out, his finger tracing the curve of the baby’s head, his touch saying everything his words could not.
“He’s been a good baby,” I murmured, my voice carrying the memory of nine months of gratitude.
It was true. My pregnancy had been gentle.
Even the delivery had felt blessed, a swift and unexpectedly smooth passage that brought us to this moment of perfect peace.
It felt like a gift, this entire experience, and as I looked from our son to the man who had given him to me, my heart felt too full to contain its joy.
“He’s going to be a good son,” I whispered. “He’ll look out for his sister.”
“Yes,” Cameron said quietly, finally finding his voice. “And he’s going to be handsome too.”
I laughed under my breath. “You can already tell at this age?”
His smile softened. “Of course. His mother is you.” He paused, his eyes holding mine. “You’re beautiful.”
I smiled at him. “I must look horrible right now.”
He shook his head, his fingers brushing tenderly against my cheek. “You look like a warrior who’s just won her battle. And it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I think I need a kiss.”
He grinned before lowering his lips to mine, a kiss soft and lingering, filled with the love we shared and the family we had created together.
When he finally pulled back, his grin widened. “I guess I needed that too.”
I chuckled. “Everyone’s outside? Do you want to let them in?”
“Yes!” He perked up, his grin breaking wide. “I bet my mom is already going crazy out there, probably pacing the hallway. And Caroline and Lina too, no doubt they’re both impatient to come rushing in the second we give the word.”
“Bring them in!”
“Okay.” He hurried to the door, and the moment it swung open, everyone poured inside—Harper, Anita, Caroline, Caleb, Lina, Gabriel, Dean, and Ben. Chaos erupted at once, voices overlapping, laughter and tears filling the room as they crowded around me.
“Mommy?” Harper whispered, staring at her baby brother in awe. “Why is he so wrinkly?”
“Because he’s just been born,” I explained gently. “You were like this too when you were born.”
Her eyes widened, flicking up to me in alarm. “I was?”
I laughed, unable to help myself.
Anita stood closest, right at my side, her eyes brimming as she took in her grandson.
“You want to hold him?” I asked softly.
She shook her head, her voice breaking. “No. I want to see him like this first, safe in your arms.”
“He’s beautiful,” Caroline said, her voice trembling as though she were holding back tears. It wasn’t often I saw her emotional like this. She leaned closer, her eyes soft. “Hey, little Nico…” She hesitated, then looked at me. “Can I call him Nico?”
“No. We’ll call him Nick,” Cameron cut in from behind her.
“But Nico sounds cuter,” Caroline shot back, turning toward her brother.
“I want to call him Nico,” Harper said.
“It’s Nick,” Cameron insisted.
I grinned, unable to resist. “I like Nico.”
“You lost, man,” Dean said with a laugh. “Just accept it.”
“Nico sounds nice,” I said.
“I like it too!” Harper chimed in, bouncing on her feet.
Cameron’s face fell; the look of defeat only made my smile widen.
“See?” Caroline said with a triumphant grin. She bent down again. “Hey, Nico…”
“I’m still going to call him Nick,” Cameron said stubbornly.
“Have you counted his fingers?” Caleb asked with seriousness, his eyes narrowing at me. “All there?”
“Yes, all there,” I replied, amused.
Lina leaned closer, her smile soft when she said to me, “He’s going to look like you.”
“Let’s pray for that,” Cameron said.
“I don’t know…” I murmured, studying our son’s face. “His dad is pretty handsome to me.”
I looked up at him, and he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey, man, congratulations,” Gabriel said as he shook Cameron’s hand.
The two of them had grown close lately, often joining Caleb, Dean, and Ben for basketball games.
Even Ben had softened toward Gabriel once he realized Gabriel’s only motive was being my friend.
I liked seeing all of them together. It felt good knowing Cameron and I shared a few people we could both truly call friends.
“Thank you,” Cameron said to him.
“You look tired, but I can see how happy you are,” Lina murmured softly, her voice meant only for me. “This is one of the happiest days of your life, isn’t it, Sloane? Hold on to it. Remember how far you’ve come—how far you both have come. Be proud of yourself, Sloane. You deserve this.”
I nodded, my throat tight as emotion welled up again. “Thank you for being my friend, Lina. I’m so grateful for you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, honey,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes just as misty as mine.
I heard soft sobbing from the other side of the room and turned to see Ben standing there, tears streaking down his face.
“Ben, come here,” I said, tilting my head toward Nicholas.
He rushed over at once, squeezing himself between Lina and Caroline. “I wanted to come closer, but I couldn’t stop crying!” he sobbed. Then his gaze dropped to Nicholas. “My god, he’s so wrinkly,” he managed through the tears, “but he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“There’s someone else waiting for you outside,” Anita said softly. “She didn’t want to come in unless you said it’s okay.”
I looked at her. “Is it my mother?” I asked, surprised she knew.
Anita nodded. “I called her,” she admitted quietly. “I hope I didn’t overstep, but I thought you might want her here. If not, I’ll tell her it can wait.”
I let her words sink in. She was right. As much as I had been hurt, as much as I tried to protect myself, I still wanted my mother here.
When I remarried Cameron, already four months pregnant, I had thought of inviting her.
The wedding had been small, held in Anita’s backyard, and we had only invited those very close to us.
But she couldn’t come anyway. She had sent a letter through Anita to tell me that she had already left town, hiding from my father while the divorce was underway. She was determined to leave him, and she had.
Maybe it was because Nicholas had been born. Perhaps it was because, no matter how battered, the bond between mother and daughter never truly disappeared. I wanted her to see her grandson.
“Yes,” I whispered at last. “Please, tell her to come in.”
When I glanced at Cameron, his gaze had softened, his nod telling me he understood.
“I’ll bring her in,” he said, then slipped out.
Moments later, my mother stepped inside. She moved slowly, her face a storm of emotions, and I saw her—vulnerable, undone, and overwhelmed by the significance of this moment.
Her eyes met mine before falling to the baby in my arms. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched—weighty, yet not hollow—carrying years of hurt and love bound together. When she finally reached the bedside, her hand trembled as it brushed the edge of the blanket.
It felt like an echo of the past as well. I remembered the way she looked when she first saw Harper in my arms, a rare moment when her usual stoicism cracked and vulnerability slipped through.
“He’s so lovely,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “So lovely, Sloane. Thank you… Thank you for letting me see him.”
“You can hold him, if you’d like,” I said softly.
Her face lit with gratitude as she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.”
I placed Nicholas gently in her arms, and the moment he was nestled against her, she broke down, sobbing harder. “Thank you, honey,” she wept. “I don’t have the words. This means everything to me. I’ll be here for you. I will. I promise you I will.”