Chapter 50
YASMINE
Two Months Later
“Okay, Yasmine, we need you to push.” The cheerful midwife, positioned between my legs, looks up at me from the end of the hospital bed.
I’m not just tired, I’m exhausted, and I’m sure our little peanut—sorry, big peanut—doesn’t want to make an appearance.
“I should have had a cesarean,” I cry out. My body can’t take any more pressure. My vagina feels like it’s going to explode.
Sweat runs between my cleavage and down my forehead, making me feel disgusting. I need a shower and a glass of wine, or a cellar of wine preferably. And sleep. I need sleep but I can’t see any chance of that happening in the next few years.
“If the next push doesn’t work, I’m leaving,” I tell the midwife, causing Cole to laugh from my side.
I snap my head in his direction and stare him down. “What are you laughing at? This isn’t funny. How would you like your vagina to be stretched beyond its limits?” I don’t mean to sound crazy, but right now I feel like I am about to lose it.
“I don’t have a vagina so I wouldn’t know.”
“Your ass then?” I’ve turned into someone I don’t recognize. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” I wince at my crassness in the moment of childbirth. “If I swear, you have permission to slap me.”
My chest rises and falls when I feel another contraction about to hit. “This is it.” I scrunch my face up, squeezing Cole’s hand.
“Let’s do this, Yasmine,” the midwife encourages. “Just one more big push and your little one will be here.”
Cole’s calm voice appears in my ear. “You’re doing amazing, I’m so proud of you. We’re about to meet our baby. Your body knows what to do,” he keeps repeating over and over like a mantra.
I follow his cues and listen to his mellow, steady affirmation.
“I love you, baby. Thank you for bringing our baby into the world.”
My eyes meet his, everything fading away to a soft blur, the pressure in my back and stomach intensifying with each millisecond that passes, forming a tight band across my abdomen to the point of becoming unbearable.
When I give an almighty push as a contraction, the force of a tidal wave hits me.
Man, do I push, and Cole’s right there with me, pouring his love into my body from his touch, his gaze, and his gentle words of encouragement.
The agony turns into ecstasy, and then our baby is here. There are lots of oohs and aahs being shared, Cole kissing my forehead as I rest my head back on the bed. My heart is racing, and my body is exhausted from giving it my all.
Everything happens so quickly after that.
Then I’m being handed our beautiful baby who is screaming his head off.
A boy.
Our exquisitely perfect bundle of joy, a pure cocktail made up of Cole and me, and a magical oopsie born from a one-night stand that became our forever.
The midwife places him on my bare chest, then covers him with a blanket as we bond skin to skin, and I tilt my head to snuggle into Cole, who I can tell is already besotted with our little one, tears pricking at his eyes.
“He’s perfect,” he says, kissing the top of his thick head of jet-black hair.
“What are we calling him?” We’ve discussed so many names, but now that he’s here, none of them feel right.
“Jett,” Cole suggests confidently with a huge smile.
“Jett,” I repeat, loving how that sounds, and look down at the tiny human we made, his little hand wrapped around Cole’s finger.
I’ve spent my life learning to write code, creating systems no one could crack, and compartmentalizing neat, tidy code, line by perfect line.
And that’s how I lived my life too.
That was, until I met Cole.
My fear of flying may have initially brought us together, but when we both broke our biggest code of all—no one-night stands—it changed everything in a twist of fate neither of us could have predicted.
Turns out that if we’d never had one reckless night together, we never would have created something completely new: a tiny heartbeat lying in my arms.
I guess codes are meant to be broken, and sometimes a wildcard is all you need to test your theories.
Falling for the same man twice? Now that is something I could never have designed.
But one beautiful interaction at a time, I debugged his heart. All it needed was time, patience, and a bit of logical troubleshooting.
I laugh softly. “And then there were three.”