Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Romy
“Oh my god.”
The contraction hits me like a freight train, and I bend as much as I can, reaching for my stomach.
“Where is he?” I grit through my teeth.
“Romy,” Lottie says, rushing to my side, “I told you. I’m your partner. We’re in this together. I’m here for you.”
“You’re fired!” I shout, and she rears back.
“Jeez, I was just going to be here until he came back.”
I grab her hand. “I’m sorry, I just… where the hell is he?”
“Dad went down to get him,” Mom says, her phone in her hand, probably trying to call Zander, Beau, or Dad.
Zander went down to the cafeteria fifteen minutes ago to get a drink and a snack with Beau.
The nurses said he could, that it was fine, there’s lots of time, then suddenly the doctor comes in and says I’m ready.
And now, suddenly, I’m in rapid labor. Everything’s happening so fast, but I am not having this baby without him here.
Dr. Rojas touches my leg. “You’re at ten centimeters, honey. It’s time. We’re gonna push.”
“No. I’m not pushing without him.”
“She’s definitely not a peach right now,” Lottie says to Mom, and they both laugh.
I give them a scathing look signaling that now is not the time, then I tug on Lottie’s sleeve. “Listen, weed, get him here.”
“That’s not an insult. I’m happy to be a weed.” She lifts her chin.
“I called his phone twice,” my mom says. “Maybe there’s no signal down there.”
This entire time we’ve been waiting for our baby boy to come into this world, Zander’s been paranoid, not letting me do anything he thinks might harm the baby, then he needs something to drink right as I go into labor?
“Call Beau,” I grit through my teeth.
“Same thing,” my mom says. “Hopefully Dad will find him, and he’ll make it before the baby comes.”
“He will because the baby isn’t coming out until he’s here,” I say.
“Romy,” my mom says, “you can’t control that.”
Another contraction builds like a rising wave and crashes into me. I scream. The urge to push overwhelms me, but I somehow hold it at bay. I’m not sure how much longer I can.
“Romy”—Dr. Rojas gives me a serious look—“the baby needs to come out.”
I sob and shudder. “No, we have to wait.”
The nurse comes to the side that Zander should be on. “We can’t wait, sweetie. I’m sure your dad will find him before he’s delivered, but it’s time to push.”
The door to the room bursts open and bangs against the stopper.
“I’m here!” Zander’s feet skid to a stop by my bedframe as he grabs my hand. “God, I’m here. I’m here. Jesus, I’m sorry.”
He’s breathless and wide-eyed, cheeks flushed. He must’ve sprinted and taken the stairs or something.
I cry harder, but it’s the good kind of cry—relief. Love.
“You just had to get a Coke,” I snipe.
He presses his forehead to mine. “I know. I know. I will never get a Coke again. But it’s time? He’s coming?”
He sounds so happy my tears freefall down my cheeks.
“It’s time,” Dr. Rojas answers.
Zander looks down, finally noticing my legs in stirrups and the doctor already positioned between them.
“Holy shit, I almost missed it.” He grabs my hand. “Scream at me. Break every bone in my fingers. I’m yours.”
“Well, you just made it a lot easier, since you had to go get a Coke and almost missed the delivery.”
I push. I scream. I sweat. And Zander’s there the whole time, telling me what a great job I’m doing and how much he loves me. He talks about how much our baby boy appreciates the agony I’m going through. Maybe not now, but someday—and Zander promises to tell him this story.
Lottie tells him our son won’t want to hear his birth story as she places her hands on my shoulder. My mom is right next to Lottie, her hand in mine.
I push again.
The nurse counts down.
And I push again.
Then there’s a cry. A beautiful wail of a cry that fills the room.
“He’s here,” the doctor says. “But I need one more.”
Zander pushes his head into mine. “Just one more good push. Okay, Romy? One more.”
I do, and our son comes into the world still screaming. He must have inherited that set of lungs from his father.
Zander pulls his hand from mine. “Shit, you’re strong.” He waves his hand to get blood flow back.
“You said no swearing,” I say through happy tears.
“I know. I know. God—darn it.”
Everyone in the room laughs.
Dr. Rojas places the baby on my chest. He’s warm and pink and wrinkly and perfect.
Welcome to the world, Rhodes Shaw.
Later that night, everybody’s gone, and the room is dim and quiet. It’s just us. Our little family that’s a piece of a bigger pie.
My body aches, but I’m still running on adrenaline.
Zander’s in the chair, cradling Rhodes against his chest. I’ve never seen anything hotter in my life.
“I’m gonna screw up,” Zander murmurs. His voice is soft in the dark. “Not on purpose. But I will. But you’ll never wonder if I love you. You’ll never have to earn my attention or compete with a schedule. I’m gonna be there. Baseball games. Science fairs. Choir shows. Front row. Always.”
Rhodes makes a small sound as if he understands his daddy.
Zander laughs softly. “I’m gonna give you stability. A home. I swear I’m gonna give you everything—everything I didn’t have. And your mom, we hit the jackpot with her. She’s going to make sure our home is full of love and warmth and understanding.”
He glances toward me and sees that I’m watching.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m just letting him know how lucky we are.”
Zander walks over and places Rhodes in my arms, leans down, and kisses both our foreheads.
“I don’t think I can ever thank you for this,” he whispers.
I place my hand on his cheek. “I could say the same to you.”
We stare at our little guy. The person who is probably the reason we were brought together.
Life has never been sweeter.