Debra’s lips feathered over mine and I deepened the kiss, my hand going to her bulging tummy where our baby lay. I still had mixed feelings about the baby. I still didn’t want a baby. I was too young to be a father. She was too young to be a mother, but she’d taken on the challenge and I owed it to her to stick by her.

When I’d walked into her room and found her absent, I’d thought the worst, rushing to the nurse’s station and asking if they’d moved her. Where the hell was she? Her mother had scared me telling me about the risks involved with her pregnancy and the seizure she’d had because of some condition associated with her pregnancy I couldn’t even remember.

I’d known relief when she walked in from the bathroom, and I knew then we’d wasted too much time. We had both been stubborn and foolish, had made poor decisions, but it was the time to use our wits and make this work. We loved each other. I was sure she loved me back after the talk I’d had with her mother and nothing else mattered.

I felt the slight trembling of her body and attributed it to the effects of our kiss. I was almost trembling too as my cock strained in my pants. I couldn’t help it. She always had this effect on me and it wasn’t likely to go away because she was pregnant. When I’d walked into the room I’d thought how radiant she looked, pregnant and all. Her protruding tummy made her seem huge, her face was swollen, and she waddled, but she was beautiful.

She shook against me more violently, her lips jerking from mine, and I pulled away in confusion. Her eyes rolled over into her head and some monitor in the room went off.

“Debra!” I held her body, fear snaking through me that she would hurt herself. “Debra, baby please!”

The doctors and nurses rushing into the room brought reality crashing down on me. Someone tried to pry her shaking body from my arms but I refused to let her go. I sensed if I let her go, I might never get her back.

“Please, sir. We have to tend to her or she’ll die or end up brain damaged!”

The words penetrated my pain and I released her to the professionals who were best able to help her.

“Sir, you have to leave the room.” A male nurse walked over to me, blocking my view of the doctor over Debra’s body. “

“I can’t leave her,” I insisted.

“Please, we need to focus on her and you being here may prove a distraction. I promise, I’ll bring word as soon as we stabilize her.”

I allowed myself to be led out of the room. “Please, don’t let her…” The lump in my throat prevented me from saying the word.

“We’ll do everything we can. Both her life and the baby’s are our priority.”

I slumped against the wall when the nurse returned to the room, hearing talking from inside but not able to understand what was said. I could still feel her body shaking against mine. I plunged my fingers through my hair and lowered myself to sit on the floor. Nobody would get me to leave her side for long.

She won’t die. She cannot die, I told myself, but remembering the way she had looked with her eyes rolling over, I wasn’t very confident. Why had she asked me to take care of the baby if anything happened to her? As if she had known.

“I can’t lose you, Debra,” I whispered painfully. “I can’t.” We needed time. Time to right the wrongs we did each other. Time to explore the depth of our love for each other. I couldn’t think about the baby in this equation. How could I? She never gave me the opportunity to watch her grow in pregnancy and bond with the child in the same way she obviously had. All my thoughts were on Debra and her pulling through this.

I prayed and I cried and I stared vacantly at the opposite wall. I lost track of time. It could have been five minutes or an hour, I couldn’t tell. The longer I waited, the more I despaired. Even when separated, my awareness of her, even my anger, kept me going. What was I to do without her?

The door pushed open and the doctor stepped out. I got to my feet, my mouth too dry for me to ask if she was okay.

“You’re the visitor who was with her?” the doctor asked. “What’s your relationship to her? We have some papers to sign and her father is listed as her emergency contact.”

“What kind of papers to sign?” I enquired, my face paling.

“We can’t discuss the patient’s condition with you.”

“That’s my baby she’s having,” I announced desperately. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“You’re the baby’s father?” the doctor asked for clarification.

“Yes, yes, I am. Lucas Caine.”

He frowned at me. “Any relation to Gregory Caine?”

I nodded impatiently, not seeing what any of this had to do with my relation to my father. “He’s my father. Now, back to Debra. Is she okay? What kind of papers are there to sign?”

“I’m Doctor Francis, neurologist,” the doctor replied. “We’ve had to employ a team of doctors to deal with Debra’s condition. We’ve stabilized her. She’s had two seizures since we’ve been inside with her and we’re putting her into an induced coma until the baby is delivered. As the father, you’re able to sign the form for us to proceed with the emergency C-section.”

“An induced coma?” My heart was numbed at the words.

“Yes, it’ll help counter the seizures. They are triggered by her having eclampsia and the good news is this condition is associated with the pregnancy, so it’s imperative we get the baby out.”

“I’ll sign the papers,” I confirmed. “But can someone contact her father and let him know what is going on? I don’t have his number.”

“Right, I’ll have one of the nurse call. Follow me this way so I can give you one of those forms to fill out.”

I signed the paper for Debra to have her C-section and was advised to stay in the waiting area. Once the procedure was complete, they would update me on Debra’s status and that of the child.

I knew I was wrong for it, for ignoring thoughts about the child, but all I wanted was Debra well. Hell, I knew nothing about babies and being a father was scary, but not as scary as losing Debra.

About half an hour into waiting, her father and her mother rushed into the waiting room. By Claire’s red eyes, she had been crying and Mr. Hoskins didn’t look any better either. I picked up on their body language, how he had an arm around her supportively. Were they back together? I felt even worse seeing them together. Debra and I should have the same opportunity to make things right between us.

“Lucas, what’s happening?” Claire asked as they sat across from me. “The doctors wouldn’t say on the phone. Just that we needed to get here as soon as possible.”

“I didn’t know you were in town,” Mr. Hoskins stated. “Did you upset her when you saw her?”

“No, we made up,” I answered. “But then-then she had a seizure. Two seizures, the doctor said, and they’ve put her into an induced coma. I signed the papers for her to have an emergency C-section.”

“She was against having the baby before she was full term,” her mother stated.

“We talked about it and she said it was okay now,” I informed her. “It was so sudden. We were talking and she was fine and I kissed her. She started shaking so badly.” A sob tore from my throat. “I can’t lose her. I should have been here with her before. She shouldn’t have had to go through this alone. If not for my past actions, she wouldn’t have felt the need to keep the baby a secret.”

Her father’s hand squeezed my knee hard. “Let’s not dwell on that now. Let’s keep focused on what matters, what is at stake—Debra and the baby.”

We waited in silence, Claire and her ex-husband holding hands. We waited so long, my butt started cramping. We jumped to our feet in union when a doctor walked into the room. This doctor was different from the one who spoke with me earlier but I recognized him as the second doctor who had been in the room earlier when Debra had her seizure.

“Dr. Howard, how is she?” both her parents asked in unison.

“Congratulations.” Dr. Howard smiled tiredly at us. “We’ve got ourselves a healthy baby boy. We’ve checked his initial vitals which are strong. He weighs six pounds, two ounces. A nurse should be by shortly to take you to the nursery if you want to see the child.”

“And how is Debra doing?” I asked fearfully.

“The neurologist should be by to speak to you, but it can take twelve to seventy-two hours for her to wake from the comatose state.”

I nodded but inside, I was devastated. Seventy-two hours before she could respond! How would I preserve my sanity during this time?

“Ah, here’s nurse Campbell now,” Dr. Howard continued, turning to the nurse. “Nurse Campbell, see to it Miss Hoskins’ family get to see the baby.”

“Yes, Dr. Howard.”

I hung back as the nurse indicated for us to follow her.

“Aren’t you coming?” Claire asked me.

“No,” I responded in anguish. “I can’t see a baby that did this to her. I need some time.”

“Lucas…”

“Don’t push, Claire,” Mr. Hoskins stated and she backed down.

I watched them walk away, eager to meet their grandchild. All I could think of was what if I lost her? A resentment I couldn’t control rose inside me. Resentment of an innocent baby that had ruined her health. What would I do with this baby without his mother?

But you promised her. You promised her you’d take care of the baby. I couldn’t break that promise to her. Regardless of what happened to her, I had to keep my promise, no matter how difficult it might be to gaze on the child and think of her in the current state she was in.

The neurologist came by as promised and spoke to me about Debra’s condition. He explained that although generally, she should be out of the coma in seventy-two hours, there was no telling the effects of the seizure on her brain and that in itself could increase the length of time she remained unconscious. I listened in a state of despair, feeling my hope slipping.

When he left, the nurse returned with the beaming grandparents.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see your son?” the nurse asked kindly.

The grandparents stared at me expectantly and I sighed and consented with a nod.

“He’s absolutely beautiful, Lucas,” Claire gushed. “He looks just like you.”

I grunted and followed the nurse, my legs like deadweight, dragging on the floor. We walked down several corridors before the nurse stopped at a room with several babies lying in cots. She brought me to a wash station where I had to scrub my arms and hands, drying with a paper towel before we continued over to the babies.

“At thirty-five weeks, your son is doing well,” she said. “He’s not in the NICU so you can tell we’ve not discovered any problems. We’ll keep him here and routinely feed him until the mother wakes, and then he’ll stay with her. Before you go, I’ll be tagging you with a bracelet so you can come by for feedings if you want to do that yourself. It creates a great bonding experience.”

I didn’t respond. How did I tell her I had no feelings whatsoever for this child?

She came to a halt at a cot. The first thing I saw was the tag on the cot with Debra’s name. Then I peered in and saw my son for the first time. My heart lurched as I stared at the infant lying on his back. He did bear a striking resemblance to me, I noticed in awe. He had a lot of black hair, more than I thought to see on a newborn baby. He had a thumb stuck in his mouth and pulled on the finger.

“Can I hold him?” I surprised myself by asking. I couldn’t take my eyes off the little boy. My son. Our son.

“Let’s get this smock on you first,” the nurse responded in an approving tone. She helped tie a blue disposable smock around me and then lifted the infant and placed him in my arms, demonstrating how to support the little body.

Warmth flooded me and it was more than the heat of the small bundle fitted in the crook of my arm. The baby stirred and mewled before eyes flickered open and stared at me. Dark blue eyes. I placed a finger in the middle of the baby’s hand and tickled softly. He made a small sound and gripped the finger. Gripped my heart.

I fell in love with my son.