32. Dante
DANTE
Samantha’s screams echo in my head as I rush to grab her go-bag. We already packed one, thanks to Elio’s advice. He said when Samantha came, he didn’t have anything prepared for Grace, and it was hell.
We thought we were so prepared. But the baby’s coming now, not in two weeks like she’s supposed to.
I rush into the backseat of Doc’s SUV, cradling Samantha’s head in my lap. Her legs are spread and she’s screaming again, gripping my hand so tightly I fear the bones will crack.
We arrive at the hospital within a few moments. Doc drives like a bat out of hell, but I can’t blame him. The second we arrive, Doc throws the car into park. Elio pulls up behind us with Reese, Sofia and Vaughn.
A nurse runs out with a wheelchair. She lifts Samantha’s dress and her eyes widen visibly.
“The baby’s crowning. We gotta go.” The nurse manages to get Samantha into the wheelchair and then I’m running.
My head is spinning. I can’t think. I just throw Samantha’s bag over my shoulder and hurry to the back with her.
“Help her undress,” the nurse says quickly. “We need that dress off. I’m afraid it’s ruined.”
Samantha laughs wildly. “That dress cost forty thousand dollars,” she mourns.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, fumbling with the little buttons on the back and cursing when they’re a bitch to undo. She helps me as much as she can, but she keeps stopping, going still and then nearly roaring in pain.
I hate every second of it. I wish I could do it for her.
“I want drugs!” Samantha wails.
“Remember, little one, you said you wanted an unmedicated—”
“Fuck that! Fuck what I said!” she nearly screams, gripping my hand and squeezing it painfully. I wince.
“Can she have drugs?” I ask the nurse flatly, and she barks out a dark chuckle.
“I’m afraid it’s too late. Baby’s coming now.”
Finally, I rip the stupid dress off her and Samantha bursts into tears.
“I’ll buy you a new one, tesoro, just… just try to focus.”
“I don’t want a new one. I want this one,” she wails.
“Baby, I feel like you’re being slightly irrational.”
“Oh, fuck you,” she spits.
I give her a wan smile. “You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t,” she breathes. “I’m sorry, baby. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be—oh fucking Christ, get this baby out of me!”
The nurse and I help her get on the hospital bed. The nurse puts her in a gown and stirrups as I watch on helplessly.
“Hold her hand, Daddy. Baby’s going to come fast,” the nurse warns.
We’d originally planned to have Sofia in here, too, for moral support, but there’s just no time. “I’m gonna need three hard pushes,” the nurse says just as the doctor slides in. He lifts the gown and his eyes widen just like the nurse from before.
“Here we go,” he says warmly, sitting down on a stool and sliding between her legs, holding his arms out. I keep my eyes on Samantha’s contorted face, brushing her hair back.
“You’re doing so good, tesoro. You’re going to be such an amazing mother. I love you so much.”
“I hate you!” she screeches. “You did this to me!”
I blanch and the nurse gives me a dry smile. “She’ll be sweet as pie after this, just trust me.”
Samantha screams again as the nurse tells her to push, and then the most wonderful sound in the world fills my ears.
A baby’s tiny little screech, so much like her mother’s.
“Head’s out. One more push, mama!” the nurse cries. Samantha grits her teeth, not screaming in pain, just yelling with effort.
“It’s a girl.”
I don’t realize tears are streaming down my face until the doctor places the grimy baby on Samantha’s chest. Samantha sobs out my name.
“She’s perfect, Dante.”
“She is,” I say, choking out a sob of my own.
They usher her away, cleaning her up before returning. “Six pounds, eight ounces. Healthy as a horse. Do you want to hold her, daddy?” the nurse asks, a precious little bundle in her arms, and I nod quickly.
She places the baby in my arms and she blinks up at me with blue-gray eyes. I wonder if they’ll turn lighter blue, like mine, or dark like Samantha’s. I don’t care.
The little girl in my arms has quickly become the center of my whole world.
Her and her mother.
I sit down in a chair next to Samantha’s bed, hard, cradling my daughter in one arm. “Did you decide on a name?” I ask quietly.
Samantha nods, giving me a tired smile. “I want to name her Grace. After my mother.”
“Gracie,” I whisper. Samantha sighs happily as I tuck the baby between us, holding her up on the bed with one hand, she’s so small.
I’ve got everything, right here. And even if it was a hard road, I’m glad I took it.
Because it led me here. To my family.
Thank you for reading Knocked Up by My Dad’s Mafia Boss!