Chapter 37 Patton
thirty-seven
patton
It Helps That You Look Sexy In Scrubs
I’m not sure how many traffic laws I break. All I know is that my foot never left the accelerator for those fifteen minutes until I screeched to a halt at the hospital’s emergency entrance.
Flashes go off as soon as I jump out, the sudden bursts of light blinding me. How the hell did the paparazzi find out I was going to be here? I shove past them, my hand protectively clasping my mother’s elbow, urging her to keep her head down.
“Patton, we saw Nisha rush inside. Is she okay? Is it true she’s in labor?”
“Who is the woman with you?”
“Smile for us, Patton! You must be so excited to become a dad!”
My breaths ricochet inside me as I rush through the hospital’s automatic doors, my mother’s hurried steps resounding behind me.
I’m sure she’s going to be all over the tabloids tomorrow because, if there’s anything I’ve learned about the paparazzi, it’s that they’re better than intelligence agencies at digging up stories.
It is what it is, though. They’ll run with it for a week, then move on to something else.
Despite my annoyance with the photographers outside, I’m thankful the nurse at the front desk recognizes me immediately, waving us through in a rush without pressing us for paperwork.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I sprint behind her, every step feeling like I’m competing against time.
“She’s being taken to the operating room for an emergency C-section,” the nurse calls over her shoulder.
“What?” My feet nearly come to a jarring stop. “What do you—why? What happened?”
The questions tumble out of my mouth, every thought in my brain battling to be heard first. An emergency C-section?! Did I hear her right?
She gives me a look that’s both panicky and sympathetic, pushing through a set of double-doors that swing with a soft whoosh.
“Her contractions are causing the baby’s heart rate to drop, and it’s not recovering quickly between episodes.
You can ask Dr. Gilbert more about it.” She turns into a small prep room, plucking scrubs and shoe covers out of a shelf.
“But right now, you need to get into these if you want to be in the OR with her.”
I nod frantically, and within seconds, I’m shoving my arms into a sterile gown. My hands shake as I pull the surgical mask over my face.
The nurse gestures to a large waiting area nearby, looking at my mother. “Ma’am, you’ll need to wait in there.”
I squeeze my mother’s frail shoulder. “I’ll update you soon.”
She wrings her hands, the motion betraying her anxiety, before giving me a tremulous smile. “Please tell Nisha I’m thinking about her. And that I can’t wait to meet my granddaughter.”
With a nod, I follow the nurse through another set of double-doors, my stomach doing acrobatics fit for the Olympics.
And that’s when I see the surgical team wheeling Nisha on a gurney, halfway down the hall.
“Nisha!” My voice echoes inside the corridor.
Her head angles toward me, and I take in her pale, sweat-dampened face, lined with pain and fear. Her eyes widen briefly at the sight of me, and I swear her entire body relaxes just a fraction. “You’re . . . you’re here.”
“Yeah, baby, I’m here.” I catch her free hand, interlacing our fingers like she’s my lifeline.
I place a quick kiss on her knuckles, my apologetic eyes trying to convey all the words I need to say to her when we’re not being rushed. Because “I’m sorry” doesn’t even come close.
Against the frantic footsteps and murmured medical speak around us, Nisha gives me a faint, exhausted smile. “I’m glad.”
I walk beside her gurney, every step a silent promise that whatever waits for us ahead, we’ll face it together.
My lips find Nisha’s forehead first before drifting down to our daughter’s impossibly delicate temple. My chest warms with emotions so intense, it threatens to catch fire. They’re a blend of overwhelming love, surging pride, and protective tenderness I never knew existed inside me.
“She’s perfect,” I murmur, the words barely audible.
I can’t take my eyes off the beautiful miracle who’s graced our lives, with her miniature features, her head of soft, dark hair, and rose-petal lips. I can’t believe she’s here.
After doing their initial assessments, the nurses gently wiped her clean and placed her on Nisha’s bare chest for skin-to-skin contact.
To our surprise, our baby instinctively found her way to her mother’s breast, her tiny fist uncurling as she latched on with a determination that had both Nisha and me chuckling and glassy-eyed.
Nisha glides a gentle finger down the baby’s back, infinite tenderness in her eyes. “What should we name this little starlight?”
We’d talked about her name here and there over the months, but had decided to put off the decision until we met her.
I brush a strand of damp hair from Nisha’s face, in awe of her strength and her body. “What feels right to you?” You did all the hard work to bring this life into the world.”
Nisha’s expression is thoughtful despite her exhaustion. “I was thinking of Gia Estelle. Gia means heart in Hindi and God’s gift in Italian, and Estelle means star.”
“Gia Estelle,” I repeat, testing out her name on my tongue. Something about it sounds exactly right, like she was always meant to be named that.
“Gia Estelle Pierce,” Nisha says, leaning forward in a silent request for me to bring my lips to hers.
I don’t hesitate, pressing my lips to hers before wrapping a hand around the nape of her neck and deepening the kiss. The moment is dense with all we’ve been through to get here, not just today but for years. However, it’s relief, wonderment, and love—so much fucking love—that settles around us.
For a moment, with our lips exploring each other’s, our hearts locked, and our baby in her arms, my entire world narrows until nothing else exists.
Then, a tiny coo breaks the silence, and we pull apart with a soft laugh. Fuck, my heart feels like it’s going to explode.
“Looks like she doesn’t want any competition,” Nisha says, looking down at Gia, who has fallen asleep inside the crook of her tattooed arm, her lips wet and her expression serene.
“She knows who really matters.”
Nisha threads her fingers with mine. “She’s lucky to have you, and so am I. But she’s going to need you to explain what happened today.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I accidentally left my phone in my truck when I went to R you’re probably exhausted—”
Nisha presses her finger over my lips, putting a halt to my rambling.
“I already told you I’m friends with her.
And now that I know she’s Gia’s grandmother?
” She gives me that smile that always undoes me.
“Bring her in with the rest of our family and friends. Actually, bring her in before everyone else, with my dad and Emanuel. I want the grandparents to have their own time with her, first.”
My jaw tightens as I try to keep my emotions in check, my lips finding hers again. “Fuck, I love you, Little Borealis.” I place a kiss on our daughter’s head, relishing the sounds of her soft breathing. “You both are the best things that ever happened to me.”