Chapter 12 - Brent #3
Adam nodded. “Yeah. Him and I being healthy are what matters. We can try for a natural birth on the next one.”
I chuckled. “I like your thinking.”
“Is everything ready?”
“Mm-hmm. Hospital bag is in the car. Carrier is in the backseat. Mama is going to bring by some prepared food once we get back so that we don’t have to worry about cooking for a few days.”
“Ok.”
I kissed his shoulder. “I love you, omega-mine.”
“I love you, too.”
“Shall we?”
He nodded. “Ok.”
I led him through our new apartment. We’d discussed buying, but decided to put a bit more away for a down payment first.
Harris Cove was still an expensive-as-hell place to live, even with our combined incomes.
The commercial district was in full spring preparation as we drove through it. Though the signs weren’t as evident to people who hadn’t lived in Harris Cove for long.
March was still a week away, but it always meant the first big influx of tourists for the year. So stores wanted to make a good impression. Pressure washers removed the buildup of salt that seemed to cling to every surface while employees could be seen sprucing up displays in the windows.
I recalled Dylan’s story of their mad dash to the hospital right after midnight on New Year’s Day when Flynn went into labor just as the parties were letting out, and was suddenly glad for the scheduled c-section.
There was no scramble to reach the hospital in time, and we were able to take advantage of the hospital amenities.
Like the little parking lot shuttle.
Adam giggled and let out a ‘whee!’ when the shuttle driver turned the corner at what had to be no faster than a light jog. Then again, the shuttle was barely bigger than a golf cart and had suspension so poor that I could have sworn I felt us go over a coin in the lot.
It was actually a bit of fun to ride, and the old man driving it seemed to enjoy my mate’s exuberance.
It was almost as if fate was apologizing for the pain around our meeting as we entered the hospital.
The staff was like a well-oiled machine, getting Adam checked in and wheeled back to labor and delivery.
He was assigned a room and handed scrubs to change into.
They verified that he’d followed all pre-op instructions, then he was wheeled into the operating room right on time.
We tried bantering as the doctors worked, but even though my gorgeous Adam wasn’t in labor, it seemed the normal rush of emotions took over. He gripped my hand and for the first time worried that he might be a bad papa.
Then a small cry split the air, making both of us turn to see a doctor holding our son over the drape.
“I don’t think he liked the early eviction,” the doctor joked. “But he looks good. Got a good set of lungs and all his fingers and toes. Give me just a moment, then a nurse will bring him over.”
A sob, and I turned to see tears streaming down Adam’s face.
“Are you ok?” I asked, panic creeping in. Was the anesthesia not working?
“He’s perfect,” Adam said.
I smiled. “That’s cause he’s yours.”
Adam turned and returned the smile. “He’s yours too.”
A moment later, a nurse crossed from behind the drape and settled our son on Adam’s chest. “Here he is.”
She then placed a blanket over his tiny wet back to keep the chill of the operating room at bay.
“We’ll get his measurements once you’re closed up,” she stated. “So you’ve got a bit of time.”
“Ok.”
Adam used the arm that didn’t have IV needles to rub our newborn’s back and smooth the tiny tuft of brown hair on his head.
I alternated between rubbing our baby’s back and wiping the tears of joy from my omega’s face.
“All done,” the doctor finally declared. “Everything looked good, and I don’t anticipate any complications as long as you follow the post-op instructions.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The nurse returned. “Let me get him cleaned and measured. What name did you decide on?”
I met Adam’s gaze, and we both chuckled.
“His name is Brad,” I replied.
“Brad? That’s nice. The name of a family member?”
I shook my head. “We’re teasing one of his best friends.”
The nurse looked at Adam. “Is your friend named Brad?”
Adam laughed. “No. My friend had parents that picked two letters from each of their names, and while it’s a cool name, it causes all sorts of issues. We joked that if we did that, we’d get the quite normal Brad. It kind of stuck.”
“Br…” she started. “Brent… Adam…” She laughed. “I see it.”
I turned to face Adam. “It’s a combination of us, just like he is.”
“That’s sweet.” She then stepped away and chirped, “Ok, Brad, let’s get you cleaned and measured so we can take your papa to recovery.”
Adam’s gaze followed our newborn, then he turned and smiled at me. “He’s here.”
I nodded. “He is.”
The start may not have been ideal- two weeks of searching for each other. But the result was more than I could have asked for. I had a stunning mate whom I adored, and now our first baby.
I couldn’t wait to see where fate took us next.