Chapter Sixteen #2
An hour later, we pull up to the ambulance bay, and a cavalry of doctors and nurses are waiting to meet us.
I’d checked my cell reception thirty minutes ago and eventually got through to 911—who’d apparently alerted every medical professional in this hospital.
I help Daisy out of the truck and into a waiting wheelchair, and I’m met with a barrage of questions from two of the nurses.
I’m just about to follow the one leading her into A&E, when the security guard stops me.
“Sir, you can’t leave your vehicle there. ”
“Like hell I can’t.”
“Sir, this is an ambulance bay. I need you to move the vehicle or risk having it towed.” Fuck.
I don’t care about the truck being towed, but I can’t be the reason someone dies because I was parked in an ambulance zone.
I move the vehicle as quickly as possible and approach the reception desk.
There’s a stalwart woman on the phone, but I don’t have time to wait.
I need to know Daisy and the baby are okay. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
She holds up a finger with a no-nonsense expression, indicating I should wait. If I wait, she might not let me back there.
“The woman they just bought in, had a baby in the truck? My wife.”
She scowls and covers the phone, whispering, “Birthing suite, level two.”
“Thank you.” I hurry for the elevators and climb in, quickly reaching level two.
The doors open and I have no doubt this is where I’m supposed to be.
The Labor ward is noisier than I imagined.
Cries of agony echo down the hall and chill my blood.
I can’t believe she went through all that by the side of the road with no drugs and no one to help her but me.
“Can I help you sir?” A young woman in pink scrubs wheeling some kind of doppler asks.
“Er ... my wife was just bought in. She had the baby by the side of the road.”
“Oh, yes. I assume you’re the one who helped her deliver?”
“One in the same.”
“She’s in suite four, right at the end of the hall.”
“Thanks.” I head for Daisy’s room.
“Congratulations,” she calls after me. I stop dead in my tracks. If I say the baby isn’t mine, she might not let me back there. Do I even deserve to be back there? Does Daisy want me here, or am I just intruding on their time together?
“Thank you, Ma’am.” I say with confidence I don’t feel, and head for the end of the hall. I raise my hand to knock and almost get bowled over by a midwife exiting the room.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s my bad.” I mutter, but I’m not focusing on her. Beyond her, Daisy sits on a hospital bed, worry all over her face as nurses crowd around a table.
“Look who I found lurking outside,” the midwife says.
“Dais?”
She swivels her head in my direction and breathes an audible sigh of relief, stretching out her hand as if I should come take it. I’m through the door and crossing the room in two strides. I take her hand and press a kiss to it, careful to avoid the IV taped to her soft skin. “What’s going on?”
“He’s fine, they’re just giving him a little oxygen and running some tests.”
“What kind of tests?”
“All standard procedure. Just bloods and a simple AGPAR,” a midwife says as she turns to face me with a neatly wrapped bundle in her hands. “We thought he might have to have a little stay in the NICU, but his lungs seem healthy and his breathing score came back fine. He’s a very strong little boy.”
“Oh, thank god.” Daisy squeezes my hand.
“We’re going to keep you both for a few days though, just to monitor you.”
“Is that normal?” I ask.
“Perfectly,” the midwife says. “Especially with babies born outside of immediate medical intervention.”
“He’s okay though, right?” I glance at the bundle in question, terrified I fucked up in some way and have caused him harm. “I didn’t do anything wrong?”
“You both did just fine, and your baby is perfect.” She says reassuringly. “Now, in all the excitement, have you managed to have a hold yet, Daddy?”
Daddy. Who knew one little word could be my undoing? My mouth drops open, and I must look like a fish out of water. “I ... no.”
The woman hands me the baby and I hold him tightly to my chest. His little blue cap covers the shock of blond hair on his head. His little face is just like hers—beautiful, too perfect to be real. Daddy. My whole life, I never wanted anything as much as I want that word to be true now.
“West isn’t the father,” Daisy says quietly. “He’s my ... friend.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought ...” the midwife smiles as she looks between us both. “That’s some friend.”
“It’s okay. I mean, now that he’s seen me push a baby out of my hoo-ha, he probably wants me to lose his number.”
I tune them out and look at the miracle in question, just an hour ago I was watching this kid make his way into the world, terrified something would go wrong and she’d be taken from me, and now?
Now all I can see is the three of us together, a family.
The very thing I never wanted, but here it is, in my arms, in the bed beside me.
My family, they just don’t know it yet, and I can’t take this moment from her.
I can’t impress my feelings upon her. That ain’t right. I can’t tell her how I feel. Not now.
“He’s perfect, Dais. Just like his mama,” I say and stand up, cautiously carrying him to her as she beams up at me.
“He is,” she agrees. I place him in her arms, careful to support his head, and then I lean in and kiss the top of hers.
“So, do we have a name yet?” The midwife asks.
“Waylon,” Daisy says. “Waylon West ... Moore.” I’m not only surprised at the use of my name, but also her maiden name. She looks up at me with hopeful eyes. “Is it alright if I use West? I mean, you did help me bring him into this world.”
It’s tradition in my family for the first-born son to carry on the father’s name.
Hence why my middle name also belongs to my daddy.
If I ever had kids of my own, that’s what I’d want too, but how can I deny her this?
How can I deny her anything? This kid is my family, whether his mother and I are together or not. “I’d be honored.”
Daisy’s smile hits me right in the gut. “Waylon West it is, then.”
“It suits him.” I say, and run my hand over the back of my neck in a nervous gesture. “Listen, I’m gonna go and let you two get to know one another.”
“You don’t have to.” She strokes a fingertip over the gentle slope of his tiny nose, a gesture that just about kills me. I have so many fucking feelings right now, and I don’t want to burden her with any of them.
“I got an early start, and he deserves time with you all to himself.”
“Okay,” she says, and the disappointment in her voice cuts like a knife.
I gently push the hair back from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “I’ll call and check on you tomorrow. Then, whenever you’re free to go, I’ll come bust you guys out of here.”
“West, get some rest, okay?”
“You bet, Mama.” I say, like an absolute douche before I hightail it out of there. I can’t be in the room with her a second longer without giving in to how I feel. I might need to put a bit of distance between me and Daisy. Just until I can get myself under control.
The entire drive home, I’m on autopilot.
So much so that when I pull up to my house, I have no recollection of how I got here.
Ham is on the doorstep. Pissed at me again because I haven’t been there to tuck him in.
Good thing I’m not really Waylon’s daddy, because I suck at it.
Before I can close my car door, Ham is up and charging toward me as he bellows.
He butts his head against my thigh, looking for pets. “I know, Daddy’s been gone too long.”
He moos again, just to show his displeasure. I kiss his big head, careful of his lopsided horn and scratch him behind the ears. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”
He bellows and looks longingly toward his giant ball. “Not tonight, buddy.” I head for the tiny barn I house him in. He tags along behind me. “Tomorrow,” I promise.
I grab some treats off the shelf placed too high for him to reach and lead him into the stall. I mucked it out this morning with fresh hay. I palm the treats and he takes them, creating a bridge of bull saliva between us as he chews. “’Night, Ham.”
I leave the barn and walk the darkened path to my house. Inside, I grab a bottle of whiskey off the kitchen counter and take it to my bedroom. I drink it as I shower the mess of blood, fluids, and grime from my body. When I get out, I shoot a text to the family group chat despite the late hour.
Me: Daisy had the baby. A perfect little boy.
Lemon: Oh my god! When? Why didn’t you tell us?
Me: He wasn’t waiting for me to activate the phone tree, Lemonade.
Lemon: Well, is she okay? What did she name him? What did he weigh?
Me: She’s over the moon. Waylon ...
I pause, not wanting to share with everyone that she gave him my name, but I suppose they’ll find out soon enough. There’s no hiding anything from this family.
Me: Waylon West Moore. And I don’t know what he weighed.
Lemon: Oh my god, West. She named him after you?
Me: I guess.
Lemon: And what do you mean you don’t know. Daddies are supposed to know these things.
Me: Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not the daddy.
I turn my phone off, curl up in bed, and drink until I don’t remember a goddamn thing.