EPILOGUE
Palmer
Eight Months Later
“Okay, we’ve got the diaper bag, diapers, wipes, bottles, onesie… Should we pack another onesie? Multiple maybe? What if the baby doesn’t fit into the one we’ve got? What if they’re bigger? Or—” Bailey gasps, and his eyes go wide. “What if they’re smaller?”
Bailey stands bent over the diaper bag on the couch, shuffling the things around.
He’s spent the past ten minutes running around the house talking to himself since my water broke.
I told him last week we should probably think about putting everything in the car, but he was confident we still had some time.
He’s paying for that confidence now.
An amused smile spreads across my face as I watch him, despite the contraction twinging through my midsection. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Bailey looks at me like I’ve suddenly sprouted a second head then throws his hands into the air. He walks quickly to the recently completed nursery and comes out with four other outfits draped over his arm.
“You’re no help,” he jokes in a clipped tone that tells me he’s actually freaking out. I watch him nervously fidget with the liner of his right prosthesis, adjusting then readjusting before sliding his shorts back down his thigh.
“How is it that you not only had a military career but also worked in a highly dangerous MOS that required you to remain completely calm or else someone could die—”
“Palmer!” His voice is exasperated, and the look on his face is one of sheer panic. “This isn’t funny. What if the clothes don’t fit the baby?”
I continue as if I don’t hear him. “But the second my water breaks and we are barely in the beginning stages of labor, you lose your marbles?”
Bailey crosses the room and stops in front of me, feigning annoyance. “Palmer.” His voice is low, a warning.
“You’re not even getting shot at!” I can’t help myself.
He grabs me and hauls me to my feet, covering my mouth with his, soft at first then more firmly.
“Because,” he says, planting light kisses along my jaw.
“Getting shot at is manageable. Just, you know, don’t get shot.
With this?” He places his hands softly on my belly, his eyes shining with doubt.
“I’m helpless. This is one thing I can’t protect you from, and that scares the shit out of me. ”
“Could have fooled me.”
I pull him into a deep kiss, and my body presses needily against his. Bailey’s hands skate down my hips, then he pulls away from my mouth.
“Um, Palmer.”
“Mm-hm?”
He sighs as if I’m testing his willpower. “As much as I would love to continue doing this, I’m one thousand percent certain they say sex is good for inducing labor, not when you’re already in active labor.”
As if to remind me, another contraction, stronger than before, ripples through my body. My face scrunches, and I concentrate on the breathing exercises we learned in the birthing class until it passes. “Mmpf,” I groan.
When I open my eyes, Bailey is watching me, his eyes wide. For a moment, I see the little boy from all the photos Ofelia has shown me.
“Baby?” I prompt. “Go put the bag in the car, then let’s go.”
The directive snaps him out of his stupor, and he hustles to grab the remaining things and put them in the trunk. He comes back in the house, his hand running through his hair and mumbling to himself.
I walk toward him. “What’s wrong?”
Bailey begins rummaging through the table in the entryway. “I can’t find the fucking keys!”
Once I reach him, I grab his other hand and hold it up, keys dangling. I take his face in my hands, anchoring him to the here and now. “Look at me.”
Bailey follows the directive.
“Breathe with me.”
He begins to interrupt, but I hold a finger to his mouth. “Just three breaths, okay?”
Bailey nods, and we count through the breaths together.
As we complete the final exhale, I kiss his cheeks. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to go to the hospital, have a baby, and then we’re going to come home and be a family. Nothing to worry about.”
Bailey brushes his lips softly across mine. “You are my home.”
* * *
“Hello, my beautiful girl,” Bailey whispers to the pink bundle swaddled in his arms. “I’m your dad. I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” He bounces her gently as he walks over to the hospital bed.
Bailey lays her in my arms, continuing to coo. “This is your mama. She is the most perfect, wonderful thing in this world. You’ll learn that, too, as you grow.”
I smile at his words, stroking my finger along her soft cheeks. “Your daddy is pretty perfect himself, sweet girl.” She has Bailey’s dark hair and my upturned nose. Beyond that, she kind of just looks like a baby.
The world’s most perfect baby, but that’s neither here nor there.
I raise my eyes to look at Bailey. Tears streak down his cheeks despite the joy radiating from his face.
“What’s wrong?”
The quiet laughter that escapes from him is light and carefree.
“Absolutely nothing, my love. I just—” He pauses for a moment, composing his thoughts.
“I would do it all over and over again if it meant that this is exactly where I would always end up. All the heartbreak and loneliness. All of the uncertainty and pain. Every agonizing mistake. I would make it again if I knew that this was how it ended.”
Tears blur my vision, and I extend my hand to take his. “It’s far from the end, love. Our story is just beginning.”