41
Penny
“You should get some sleep, Love,” Beckett whispers as he balances his giant frame on the edge of my hospital bed and gently runs his fingers through my hair. “You need to rest.”
“Mmmm,” I hum, relaxing back into the three pillows he meticulously fluffed and then stacked behind me. “I know. I just…”
I can’t stop looking at him.
Our baby.
Our son …
His full head of dark, almost black hair. His perfectly chubby cheeks. His little pouting lips.
How am I supposed to go to sleep when the option to sit here and stare at him is on the table?
“I love you, you know that?” Beckett runs the tip of his nose along my cheek as I continue to stare down at the little human that’s half me, half him .
“Oh, yeah?” I tease, looking into his tired green eyes.
If I hadn’t already told him that I love him, too, the expression on his face right now would force the words from my mouth.
Adoration.
That’s the only way I can describe it.
Pure adoration.
He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling into an almost smile. “You got no idea, Pen. No. Fucking. Idea .”
I grin and look back down at the milk drunk baby in my arms, sleeping soundly against my chest. “You want to take him?” I ask reluctantly. “I should shower before he needs another feed.”
“No. You should rest .”
I roll my eyes. “It’s been over twenty-four hours, Beck. I did as I was told and stayed put until they removed my catheter and gave me the good drugs. Melanie even said I could get up and shower when I was ready.”
“Just because you can , doesn’t mean you should . You just had major abdominal surgery, I think-”
“Beckett.” My tone is firm, but my smile doesn’t falter as I look at the ridiculously protective man beside me. “I’m going to bathe . I feel disgusting. After, I promise, I’ll take a nap. Now, please, take your child.”
He concedes after a minute long stare off and climbs off the bed to take Grayson from my arms. I watch in all my giddy, newborn bubble glory as he tucks our son against his chest and runs the tip of one large finger over his little cheek. “I’ve got you, buddy,” he whispers before turning around and walking over to the clear acrylic bassinet we were provided with, sitting beside the burgundy armchair. “I’m just going to pop you down, and help your mumma get up, okay? And then I promise I’ll be right back.”
Ugh, my heart.
“There you go,” he says, carefully placing Grayson down. Thankfully, the movement doesn’t wake him.
After another failed attempt to keep me in bed, Beckett ties my hair into a bun to keep it dry, and then reluctantly helps me up. Although it feels like my uterus is literally going to fall out of my body, I manage to stand and hobble my way over to the bathroom, with his help.
I slide the door closed behind me, slip off my light blue hospital gown, and look around. The bathroom is what you’d expect. Sterile smelling, all white, and completely open. There are four large red buttons, one on each wall, to press in case of emergencies, and there isn’t so much as a shower curtain, insight.
“Call out if you need me,” Beckett says from behind the door. “I’ll be right here.”
With a deep breath, I nod in response even though he can’t see me, and psych myself up to wash away the evidence of my surgery. Soon enough, I learn that no matter how many pain killers they shove into your system, showering after a c-section is in fact hard .
Everything hurts.
My stomach feels like a deflated balloon and my entire body is aching after standing for a total of five minutes. What’s worse is that when I finally finish removing the antiseptic from all over my stomach and the blood from my legs, I can’t bend down far enough to dry myself.
Get it together, Penny.
Bend. Down.
God, this bathroom sucks.
I take another deep breath, staring at myself in the tiny mirror hanging above the world’s smallest sink, and attempt once again to get the towel low enough to remove the water from my legs. It doesn’t work and I wince as my muscles refuse to give enough to get lower.
“Pen,” Becketts voice carries softly through the door a second later. “You okay, Love?”
“Yep,” I croak back, rolling my eyes at myself in the mirror as my voice wobbles.
Turns out this crying thing doesn’t stop the moment the baby comes out as I’d hoped it would…
“Pen,” he whispers, opening the door a crack. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
I try to pull the towel around myself to cover everything up before he can spot me, but I move far too quickly, and pain shoots through body, the shock of which causes me to drop my towel on the wet tiled floor.
“Just, fuck . Just give me a sec,” I mutter, trying and failing to retrieve it.
I try again, and again, but the stiffness of my core and the tenderness of my wound make it impossible. “I…” I croak through the lump in my throat. “I need some help.”
Immediately, the door slides completely open, revealing a shirtless Beckett, with the bassinet our son is fast asleep in, right by his side.
“Jesus,” Beckett grits out, taking in the sight of me before storming across the bathroom. Quickly, he collects the damp towel and wraps it around me, tucking the extra material between my breasts to secure it. “Baby, tell me what you need.”
With my face buried in my hands, desperately trying not to start sobbing ‘cos I have a feeling if I do, it’s going to hurt, I manage to get out, “I can’t dry my legs.”
“What was that?” Beckett asks, prying my hands from my face and looking me in the eye.
“I can’t…” I hiccup. “I can’t bend down far enough to dry my legs. It hurts .”
Within seconds, Beckett has a fresh towel in his hands. He drops to his knees in front of me and his light grey sweatpants turn a darker shade due to the amount of water still covering the tiles. “Can I?”
I nod as he looks up at me with pure desperation in his eyes.
He doesn’t look away from me as he slowly, carefully dries my legs and my feet. He moves up further, ensuring every inch of my body is dry, only moving the towel wrapped around me when necessary.
“All done,” he whispers once he’s finished, before placing a kiss on the crown on my head. I continue staring down at my feet, not wanting to look at him as the shame of being so damn weak washes over me. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to bed.”
I nod, still refusing to look at him and let him guide me out of the bathroom and over to the side of my bed. I sit on the edge, clutching the knot of my towel, and once he’s sure I’m okay, he begins rummaging through my overnight bag, fishing out an adult diaper, a pair of long, blue pyjama pants, and the matching singlet.
An emotion I’ve never experienced before in my life, hits me right in the chest, as he once again, gets on his knees in front of me, and carefully lifts my feet, one at a time, to guide them through the holes in the absorbent, disposable underwear, before doing the same with my pants. He helps me stand, and ensures I’m steady on my feet, before bending down and gently sliding both up my body, making sure to place the waistband of my pants above the waterproof bandage across my lower belly.
I silently stare into his beautiful, green eyes, mesmerised by the look in them, as I raise my arms above my head, and allow him to slip my singlet on, too.
“There you go,” he whispers, smiling down at me, after helping me back into bed and pressing the red button on the wall, letting the nurses know we need assistance.
It takes less than a minute for someone to appear in my doorway. They all seem to sprint their way into my room now, and I’m sure it’s because the hulk of a man standing at my side had a ‘talk’ to one of the nurses that took over ten minutes to respond earlier this morning.
Not that I’m complaining.
After I’ve eaten half a ham and cheese sandwich and swallowed down a handful of painkillers, along with some anti-nausea medication, Grayson stirs. He makes us aware of his hunger by letting out a little frustrated whine, and immediately, his father stands and rushes to his side.
“Hey, now,” Beckett says. “No need for the fuss. I’m here.” The nurse collecting my rubbish, let’s out a dreamy sigh, and I can’t even blame her. “Here you go, mumma,” he whispers to me as he returns to my side and hands me our son.
He perches himself on the side of the bed, as I get situated, and watches with an expression of utter fascination on his face as I lift my singlet, and our son latches onto my nipple like an absolute champ before letting out a content little sigh. Beckett brushes the hair from my face, kneads my shoulders, and then finally settles into my side with one enormous hand resting around the back of my neck.
Once Grayson is finished, and Beckett has burped and changed him, he begins rocking him back and forth in an attempt to get him back to sleep, right by my side, so I can watch.
“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice calls from the doorway. “Can we come in?”
Molly .
Beckett looks at me, and silently asks for permission to grant them access, and I grin like a loon when he moves out of the way, leaving a safe distance between him, Grayson, and my bed.
They’re here…
“Of course,” I yell, more than a little excited to show off the tiny miracle cradled against Beckett’s broad chest.
Evie squeals in delight, and within seconds, both her and Molly at my side, each on opposite sides of my bed, showering me in kisses and praise.
“So proud of you, babe,” Evie whispers against my hair. “You did it!”
“Love you,” Molly says, cupping my face and looking into my eyes. “How you feeling?”
“Good,” I reply, grinning up at them both. “So good.”
“Yeah?”
I shrug. “I mean, I’m a little sore, and showering wasn’t an easy task, but overall, yeah… I’m really good.”
After another moment of over-the-top fussing and loving on me, they both turn their attention to Beckett and Ryan, who are standing close by.
“He’s so small,” Ryan says quietly, smiling down at the baby in his best friend’s arms. “Shit, man. You’re a dad.” My heart flutters as Beckett’s chest puffs out a little, and he smiles down at Grayson before carefully passing him over to Ryan.
“Oh my God,” Molly groans as she approaches them. “My ovaries!”
Evie chuckles, and wraps her arms around Beckett, muttering congratulations before huddling around Ryan, Molly and Grayson. “He’s perfect, Pen!” she whisper-yells at me, running the tips of her fingers through his hair. “He looks just like you!”
Molly agrees, and takes him from Ryan, and I swear, the look on her face is the same one she was wearing the first time she saw Emma, when she was placed on her chest.
Beckett removes himself from the love bubble and returns to my side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as he once again squeezes himself onto the edge of my bed. “You good, Love?” he asks quietly.
“Never been better,” I reply, utterly content.
“You called your mum?” Molly asks, looking over at us with a disapproving scowl on her face as she sways back and forth. I know she’s pissed at my mother for only calling me three times during the duration of my pregnancy to check in, even though she tries to hide it.
I nod as Beckett tenses beside me. “Yeah, she’s, um, enjoying the west coast at the moment. She said in a few weeks, once they’re finished exploring, they’ll drive down to meet him.”
“A few weeks?” Evie gasps from beside Molly, whose eyebrows are now practically touching her hairline. “Seriously?”
I shrug and they both shake their heads and turn their attention back to Grayson, clearly picking up on the fact that I don’t have a whole lot else to say about my mother’s lack of interest in her grandson, or my life.
“I can call her,” Beckett whispers into my ear. “Tell her to cut the trip short-”
“No,” I whisper back, placing my hand on his chest, right over his heart. “I’ve got everything, everyone , I need, right here in this room.”
He hums in agreement, and I drop my head to his shoulder.
And then, together, we watch on, as our family fusses over the newest member.