Chapter Eighteen
DEVIL IN A DRESS
I’ve been laying here for almost six hours thinking about everything that’s happened since Sparrow and I met while watching the numbers on the clock change.
If you had asked me a year ago where I thought I would be today, I would not have guessed that my answer would be lying in the bed next to Braxton, our son sound asleep down the hall, and our twins’ performing acrobatics in my belly.
Although, I should have known we were going to happen.
There was an intense pull from the moment we laid eyes on each other.
When two souls like ours are meant to be together, there’s nothing anyone can do to keep them apart.
“How are you feeling, baby?” Braxton rasps, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck.
“I’m okay now that it’s D-day, but I’m a little nervous too. Even my pregnancy pillow isn’t helping,” I say, linking our fingers and resting our hands on my enormous belly.
For weeks, I’ve been miserable. My feet are swollen, and my boobs are sore. I’m the size of a house, and nothing makes me comfortable, no matter what I do.
Propping up on his elbow, Braxton moves my hair off my shoulder while sweeping his eyes across every detail of my face. “You ready to get up?”
Braxton’s been working overtime to prove he won’t ever do anything to hurt our family again. I’ve told him that’s not necessary. I don’t need him to be perfect; I just need him to be present.
Releasing his hand, I touch his cheek. My eyes slide from his blue gaze to his lips before pulling him closer. I brush my lips against his and sigh. I love this man, and I know he’s worried about today. We did the birth plan so we could avoid feeling this way.
“Do we need to find a meeting before we go?” We’ve been hitting a recovery meeting every morning after we get Nash dropped off at daycare. It helps to go together. We know what the other’s triggers are now, and I’ve learned to spot his anxiety before he even notices.
“No, baby. I’m good. You and our boys are the only things that matter today, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I pull him closer, touching my lips to his. “Love you, Brax.”
Closing his eyes, he presses his forehead to mine and says, “Till the day I die, Birdie.” We take a minute to savor the closeness, both of us knowing how precious the little moments are. Our babies will be here in a few short hours, bringing our trio to a family of 5.
He kisses me once more before hefting himself up.
“You ready for this?” I bite my lip, watching him strut around our room gloriously naked.
“Don’t look at me like that, woman,” he growls, making me giggle.
“I’m sorry. I’m too worn out from last night anyway.” He was on a mission after we’d gotten Nash in bed. Claiming he had to try to wring six weeks’ worth of orgasms out of me.
Lifting my arms in his direction, I smirk when he carefully slides his arms under my back and knees and lifts me into his arms.
“You’re going to break your back,” I tease. He rolls his eyes, ignoring my comment. He hates it when I say I’ve gotten as big as a house. He thinks I’m perfect no matter how big my belly is.
He sets me on the edge of the bed, grabs the clothes I picked out for today, and dresses me.
“You’re too good to me.” He shakes his head like I’m crazy, but I just smile. He doesn’t give himself enough credit.
“You ready to get this show on the road?”
“More than.”
As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. I follow Braxton into the front room, and when he opens it, G comes through with a big smile on her face.
“I’m so excited we’re having babies today!” Braxton grins when G starts hopping up and down, clapping.
“You and me both. These guys are hell on my bladder,” I admit.
“Let’s go, baby. We’ll be late checking in if we don’t get a move on.”
“I’ll bring Nash up there shortly,” G says, hugging me.
“Thanks, girl.” I wave and pull the door closed behind me. Then, inhaling the early morning air, I waddle down the steps to the open truck door and let Braxton help me inside.
Twenty-two minutes later, we’re stepping off the elevator onto the maternity floor of Miami General. I wave at Dr. Sloan’s nurse, who is waiting at the counter for us to sign in.
“Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez. If you follow me, we’ll get you both comfortable in a room.
” I know it’s an innocent mistake when she calls Braxton by my last name, but it hits me how much I hate that we won’t all have the same one.
I shake it off, focusing on bringing my sons safely into the world today.
“I know you’ve been over this already with Dr. Sloan.
I apologize for repeating it, but it’s hospital policy.
” She smiles sheepishly. We adore Dr. Sloan and all his staff, so we don’t mind at all.
“Here’s your gown. You’ll need to remove everything from the waist down.
Once you do that, we’ll start an IV and transfer you to an OR.
We’ll get you prepped, the anesthesiologist will administer an epidural, and then Dr. Sloan will deliver your babies.
” I’m thankful she skips over the part where he’ll cut me open.
I’m not looking forward to the recovery process, but I know it can’t be avoided.
Once she leaves, Braxton helps me out of my clothes, into the gown, and then into bed. Ten minutes later, a nurse shows up to start an IV and fluids. It’s an hour before we’re moved to an OR, but from there, everything happens quickly.
I’m shaved, prepped, and completely numb from the epidural.
Braxton has been a silent sentry at my side this entire time, taking everything in with watchful, guarded eyes.
So, he wasn’t thrilled when he watched them put my legs in stirrups and a curtain across my stomach so we couldn’t see anything.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper. Then, shifting his eyes to mine, he forces a smile.
“Okay, Mom and Dad. Are we ready to meet your sons?” Dr. Sloan asks.
“Very,” I answer.
“Good. You’ll feel a lot of pressure and some pulling, but you shouldn’t feel any pain.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
“Did you feel that, Sierra?”
“No. I can’t feel anything,” I admit. Then, no more than a minute later, the glorious scream from one of my sons filters through the room. Thank the Gods. Braxton buries his face in my shoulder, but I can feel the wetness from his tears. We’re both relieved.
“Baby Boy A has a strong set of lungs,” Dr. Sloan teases just as a second cry joins the chorus. “Baby Boy B is not going to be outdone, it seems.” Everyone in the room laughs, but it sounds funny. My body starts to tremble, and the room spins as cold chills race through my body.
“Something’s not right,” I slur, feeling faint.
“I need more suction. She’s hemorrhaging!” someone shouts.
“Birdie, look at me!” Braxton demands frantically. I try, but I can’t seem to move.
“Get him out of here!” Those are the last words to make it through the fog I feel stuck in before everything goes dark.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
My eyes flutter open, and I feel disoriented. Where am I, and what is making that sound? Rolling my head on the pillow, I find Braxton asleep with his head at a funny angle, and he looks so uncomfortable.
“Brax?” I croak. Is that my voice? I try to clear my throat, but it’s dry and feels like I swallowed sandpaper. “Brax,” I try a little louder.
“Birdie?” His eyes slowly open, widening when they connect with mine. “Birdie!” Faster than I’ve ever seen him move, he jumps to his feet, sending the chair skidding out behind him. The hospital. We came here to have . . . THE BABIES!
“Babies,” I rasp, pulling at my IV. I try to sit up, but Braxton stops me.
“No. Don’t move. They’re perfect, Birdie. Strong and healthy. They have your tan skin and dark hair, baby.”
“Want them here,” I say, taking the cup he hands me. I would kill for some water, but when I peek inside, I find ice chips. It will have to do. I take one into my mouth and sigh when it starts to melt.
“How long have I been out?”
“Three days,” he says, pressing the button on the side of the bed.
“Nurses station. Can I help you?” a voice asks.
“Can you bring in the Allen twins, please?”
“We’ll get them right over.”
I start to think I’m hallucinating when he grips my hand and pulls it to his lips. On my left hand is a massive, sparkling princess-cut solitaire. My eyes flash to his in question.
“I thought I had time,” he chokes on his emotions, shaking his head.
“I lost you, Birdie. We lost you. For two minutes, you were gone, and I thought . . .” He inhales deeply, trying to regain his composure as wave after wave of tears streams down his face.
“I truly get it now. Our time together is precious, and I’m not wasting another second.
You have a month to plan whatever you want.
But that’s it. I need you tied to me in every way possible. I need you as my wife.”
My heart flutters, and my belly warms. If he thought I would put up a fight, he will be sadly mistaken.
“Yes,” I agree.
We turn our attention to the door when there’s a knock followed by a nurse pushing in a single clear bassinet.
“Good morning,” she says. Smiling, she looks at the bracelet on Braxton’s wrist and then at the ones on the boys’ ankles to ensure they match.
Quickly Braxton wipes his face and moves to grab one of the boys.
“Your boys are the stars of the show in the nursery. They started in their own beds but wouldn’t stop crying.
So, we decided to try putting them together, and like magic, they stopped.
” She laughs. I smile, but all my attention is focused on the baby Brax is handing to me.
I gently place him between my legs and reach for his brother.
Braxton chuckles but gives him to me nonetheless.
“Did you name them yet?” I ask Braxton, unwinding the blankets wrapped around my babies like burritos. I take off their socks and count their fingers and toes before placing my hand on their little chests. When I feel their hearts beat, I close my eyes and send up a prayer of gratitude.
“Was waitin’ on you, darlin’.” Perching on the edge of the bed by my hip, he wraps his arm around my shoulders as I work to put their socks back on.
“Momma!” My eyes fly open. The missing piece of my heart has finally arrived. Kierra waves and points behind her to say she’s going to wait out in the hall. I nod as she pulls the door closed.
“Hi, baby! Come and meet your brothers. They don’t have names yet.” Sparrow helps him onto the bed next to me. For long moments, he looks from one brother to the next, reverently touching their sock-covered feet.
“I think this is Nicholas,” he says, gesturing to his brother with the red socks. “And this wiggly brother with the blue socks is Nolan,” he says, confidently.
“That’s perfect, son,” Braxton says, brushing Nash’s too-long hair out of his face.
“Nash, Nick, and Nolan. That’s perfect, baby.” I can’t believe I now have three perfect sons. I look up, and Braxton is taking in the picture our three sons make, and I can tell he feels the same way. He catches me staring and moves in closer for a kiss.
“Thank you for all of this, Birdie.”
“Right back at ya’, babe.”