Epilogue II
"Do you want more sprinkles, man?" the teen boy behind the counter asked, already eyeing the mountain of toppings he'd dumped onto Naomi's pistachio.
I looked at it.
Then I imagined her face if I came back with less than what she craved.
I nodded. "Yeah, just dump 'em before my wife kills me."
The kid snorted and went back to layering on more rainbow sprinkles.
I checked my phone.
No text from Naomi yet.
She'd said she just needed to pee.
But she'd been gone a few minutes now, and my gut was starting to feel... off.
I paid, took the cone, and stepped outside, scanning for her.
Nothing.
I glanced down the sidewalk, then to the public bathroom sign just around the corner.
I smiled when she finally walked out of the bathroom.
"Just in time," I told her as she took the ice cream from me.
She kissed me. "Thanks, Nate."
My smile faded a little when I noticed the sadness in her tone and the way how her hand slightly trembled.
"You good?" I asked, but she didn't smile.
"Do you want us to go to the hotel now?" I tried to make her happy, but still nothing.
"Nae?" I asked, starting to get nervous.
She finally looked at me. "I'm bleeding."
Two words I hoped to never hear again.
...
"I asked you to do one thing!" I angrily shouted at her as she unpacked her suitcase.
Naomi didn't even flinch or look at me.
"I told you this marriage would be over if you leave."
"I told you not to go." I continued. "I begged you not to go."
"And I told you I had to," she snapped, finally meeting my eyes.
"That woman in Italy was pregnant and locked in a solitary cell in a prison that refused to acknowledge her rights as a human."
"I don't care about her!" I shouted.
"I care about you and the baby!"
I know it sounded selfish, but I didn't care.
I just wanted my family to be safe.
She turned away from me and continued unpacking. "I care about her and her baby."
I stared at her, too furious to speak.
I clenched my jaw before walking out.
She was never going to put this family first.
Her job would always come first.
Being the best lawyer in the world who helps everyone will always come first.
Our marriage will always come last.
Most of the time I can't even tell if she actually loves me or just mistook whatever the hell this is between us for love.
I shook my head, not being able to take it anymore.
I walked back into the bedroom, the door creaking as it swung open.
She was by the dresser, still unpacking like nothing had happened.
Like we hadn't just torn each other apart with words that we couldn't take back.
"I can't do this," I said, my voice low but final. "I really fucking can't."
She stopped before glaring at me.
"You can't do this?" She asked offended. "What about me? How do you think I feel when I have to deal with your-"
She paused.
Then she gasped loudly.
My eyes instantly dropped to her legs.
The dark stain spreading down her inner thigh hit me like a freight train.
"Naomi?"
Her hands flew to her belly.
I moved without thinking, reaching to her just as her knees buckled.
I caught her, trying to process what was happening.
"I'm bleeding."
...
I glanced at Naomi as the doctor and nurses checked her out.
She hadn't said a word in the past hour.
I tried holding her hand, but she pulled it away and kept to herself.
She was slowly dissociating.
Her eyes stared past me, unfocused, like she was somewhere else.
"Why did I say that?" She whispered and I looked at her confused.
"Why would I say I wanted the baby to stop kicking?" She said softly as tears flowed down her eyes.
I quickly stopped. "Nae, you had nothing to do with this."
She ignored me. "What kind of baby am I?"
My shoulders dropped as I watched her in pain. "A good one."
She closed her eyes as she held her belly.
"Please kick," she begged. "Move. Do something. Anything to show me that you're still here."
"Nae, the doctor is going to check-"
"I want a C-section," she muttered and everyone paused as we looked at her.
I felt my heart stop.
"Mrs. Carter, I really think vaginal delivery is the best-"
"I'm not doing that again!" She snapped at him and I quickly held her.
"I already-" she paused to quickly wipe her tears. "I already delivered a dead baby. I don't want to go through that again."
"Please," she whispered, and that word ached every fiber in my body.
The doctor's eyes softened before he nodded. "We're going to do everything we can to keep both of you safe."
He soon instructed the nurses to prep for the C-section before they gave us some time alone.
She looked down. "Nate, if anything happens in there-"
"I'm saving you," I told her without hesitation.
Fresh tears streamed down her face. "I'm really scared."
I brushed them away gently, trying to be the anchor she needed. "Me too. But we're going to get through this. Together."
Her hand found mine, squeezing tight, like holding on was the only thing keeping us both alive.
The nurses started prepping her for surgery, their voices calm but urgent around us.
I swallowed hard, trying to swallow the panic rising in my chest.
"Just come back to me," I whispered.
She nodded, closing her eyes.
And as they wheeled her away, I stayed rooted in place, fighting the worst while hoping for the best.
...
I sat nervously in the room as Naomi's parents murmured about flight prices while mine were talking about the fucking weather.
"The weatherman said it was supposed to rain today," Jackie smiled. "I'm so happy it didn't."
"Even the weather is better than these fucking doctors," my dad complained. "Always moving so slow."
I nearly lost it.
Naomi was in that operating room, her belly sliced open, our baby's life on the line, and they were talking like we were just passing time at a damn family gathering.
I ran a hand over my face and stared at the floor, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
I didn't want company.
I didn't want updates or statistics or comfort.
I wanted Naomi.
I wanted to hear her voice.
I wanted to know she was alive.
I wanted to hold our baby and not wonder if she made it.
But all I could do was sit here, surrounded by voices I couldn't listen to, praying like hell that the next time that door opened, it wouldn't be with bad news.
My knee bounced restlessly as I stared at the floor, trying to block out the voices around me.
Then it hit me.
The familiar itch in the back of my throat.
The kind that didn't care about timing, didn't care about hospitals or babies or blood.
Just escape.
One drink.
Just one.
Just something to shut it all off.
My mouth was dry.
My palms were sweating.
I knew the signs too well.
I closed my eyes and took a slow breath, like they taught me in rehab.
HALT: hungry, angry, lonely, tired.
All of the above.
But mostly terrified.
I gripped the arm of the chair hard and pressed my thumb against my pulse, grounding myself.
I wasn't going back.
Not for this. Not now.
Naomi was fighting for our baby.
The least I could do was fight for her the way she fought for me.
So I stayed seated.
Sober.
Present.
And praying to a God I barely believed in that I'd hear a cry when that door finally opened.
Soon the door opened and I immediately stood up as they wheeled Naomi in.
Her face was still, her curls stuck to her forehead with sweat.
Her skin glistened under the hospital lights, chest rising and falling in shallow, steady breaths.
She didn't move.
She didn't open her eyes.
She didn't even flinch when the nurse adjusted her IV.
My heart started to beat even faster, but the nurse laughed.
"She lost a lot of blood, but she's okay," she explained. "We had to put her under."
I nodded, feeling relieved. "And the baby?"
She frowned. "She's with the NICU team right now. They're doing everything they can."
She?
I silently nodded before returning to Naomi's side.
...
I kissed Naomi's forehead as I tried to keep her hair out of her face.
It had been over an hour now and she still hadn't woken up.
There was still no baby or update from the nurses.
Naomi's eyebrows furrowed for a second before they relaxed.
I sighed as I looked down.
I just want her to be happy for once.
She's my wife.
My fighter.
My everything.
There's not a building in this world I won't burn down for her.
Not a case I won't win for her.
Not a rule I won't break just for us to be happy.
I leaned closer, pressing my forehead to her hand.
"Nate?" I heard her whispered before I shot up.
I smiled as I held back tears. "You did it. You made it back to me."
She frowned. "Where's the baby?"
I stayed quiet as I watched her with tears in my eyes.
I didn't know if to tell her we were going to meet her soon or mourn her.
"Where's the baby, Nate?" She repeated, this time tears flowed out of her eyes.
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, a sound broke through the room.
Faint at first, but then it got louder.
A cry.
The nurse soon walked in with a soft smile on her face and the smallest thing I've ever seen wrapped in a pink blanket.
Naomi's eyes and our parents watched her in disbelief.
"She's a fighter," the nurse said gently, stepping closer. "Just like her mama."
Naomi let out a sob, her whole body trembling as the nurse carefully placed the baby in her arms.
I could barely breathe watching her.
Naomi looked down at the tiny face, the dark curls, the wrinkled brow already frowning like she owned the world.
"She's so beautiful," Naomi whispered, voice cracking.
I blinked, not believing this was real and that we were finally parents.
Naomi smiled at me. "You ready to hold your daughter?"
I blinked again and nodded.
Carefully, she lifted the tiny bundle toward me, and I reached out with hands I didn't realize were shaking.
The second she was in my arms, everything shifted.
From meeting some angry 1L at the library, to becoming her tutor, to her becoming my best friend, to falling in love with her, hating her, needing her, losing her.
And somehow, finding my way back to her.
We'd been through hell.
But this?
This moment made all of it seem worth it.
Our daughter scrunched her nose like she was already over the world.
Just like her mother.
I laughed under my breath, my dumb eyes stinging.
I swear this hospital is giving me allergies.
Naomi watched me with a look I hadn't seen in a long time.
She looked peaceful, proud, whole, and so full of love.
If someone would've told us a year ago that we'd be here, happily in love, and holding our daughter, we would've laughed.
We would've said:
No way.
Not us.
We're too far gone.
But life has a funny way of humbling you.
Of healing you.
Of breaking you just enough to rebuild you stronger.
We didn't get here easily.
We bled. We shattered.
We walked through fire and nearly let each other go.
But we didn't.
And now, Naomi was looking head over heels at me, our daughter tucked my arms, and my life at finally at peace.
And for the first time in my life, I didn't want to be anywhere else.
Not in a courtroom.
Not chasing a win.
Not fixing what was broken.
Because everything I ever needed...
Was right here.
With them.
"So what are you gonna name her?" Dad asked and Naomi and I immediately looked at each other with a smile.
"Nova."
Latin for new.
A child born from chaos.
From pain.
From everything we had thought would break us.
This was our new. This was our beginning.