Chapter Twenty-Four
Kayson
“Here you go, Brent. These should do the trick.”
My cousin had come in for flowers. He never came in for flowers.
“Phone for you, Kayson. It’s Reid.”
I waved bye to Brent and practically sprinted to the phone. Kayson had been having some back pressure, and the doctor was sure it was imminent labor.
“Reid? Are you okay?”
“It’s time. Water broke. All the back pressure. All the back...please get here like ten minutes ago before I start walking there myself.”
He would, too. Pregnancy had made him as stubborn as a goat.
“Five minutes, Reid. I’ll be there.” I didn’t even bother hanging up the phone.
The brakes screeched as I pulled the car into the driveway. Long gone was the Jeep, and in its place was a family car, suitable for a car seat.
“Get in, honey. I’ll grab the bags.”
Of course he couldn’t just wait, no, he was on the porch, tapping his foot at me.
I helped Reid down from the porch and into the car before running back inside for his bags.
With the duffel and the baby bag in hand, I scrambled to get to the car.
“Now, please now.” He reached over the console and grabbed my hand in the tightest vise I’d ever felt.
“As fast as I can. Hold on.”
I didn’t even remember what lights were green, or if they even were green. I just remembered pulling up to the hospital.
“Come on. Here we go.”
Reid had called the hospital in advance, and an orderly and a nurse were waiting at the entrance with a wheelchair. They took us right in to labor and delivery. Another benefit of small-town living. All births were a huge deal, and you got the royal treatment.
Everything happened all around me as if I wasn’t even there. Which, to be honest, was probably for the best because all I wanted to do was to yell at them to make him not hurt anymore.
The instructor at our birthing classes had joked that the support partners, in this case, me, were the ones who needed the classes. That we were the ones most likely to pass out, freak out, or a variety of other unpleasant things. Damn her. She was right.
I wanted to be the perfect alpha, strong for my omega, ready to help him through all things, and I was woefully unprepared.
“Stay with me.” Reid grabbed my arm. I’d been sitting on the stool beside him, not moving, so his question caught me off guard.
“I’m not leaving.” I laid my head on the bed beside him. “Ever.” It was true. The man was stuck with me for all of time.
“You look like you are going to pass out.” He tapped my nose obviously amused with himself. “You’ve got this.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?” After all, I wasn’t the one evicting a human from my body.
His face scrunched up, and the monitor beside him started doing its crazy side-to-side lines indicating another contraction. They were getting closer together, but thanks to the epidural, he seemed to be feeling them far less than the initial ones.
“Probably,” he panted as if the conversation has been flowing freely and not interrupted by his active labor, “but you can do that later when the epidural is no longer enough. For now—I’ve got you.”
“I love you, Reid.” I closed the two inches between us, letting my lips brush against his.
“And I love you even if you are the one responsible for all this pain.”
“Har har.” The instructor from our class had warned us mass blamings and cussings were a part of labor and we should be prepared, to just let them fly over our heads, and it was nice to hear him teasing about it. It meant he really was okay.
“I regret it, you know.” I laid my hand on his belly thinking about the little bundle I was about to be introduced to, the one whose name I still didn’t know.
“The baby?” He quirked an eyebrow knowing that what I said wasn’t what it sounded like. He knew me enough to know I sometimes got too into my head. It was nice to have someone in my life like that—a person who recognized my weird and often annoying idiosyncrasies and loved me all the same.
“Heck to the no.” I would ever be grateful to that faulty condom. “I regret not knowing the name yet.”
“You will soon, and I think you will love it.”
Because telling me then and there would’ve been far too simple.
“You could name her Franketta, and I would think it was the most beautiful name in the world for the most beautiful baby.”
“Biased much?”
“Just a little bit.” Or all the bits. She was going to be amazing. I already loved her with all that I was.
“I wasn’t thinking Franketta, but it does have a nice ring to it.”
I went to continue our banter just as his face crinkled again, although this time it was followed by a scream of pain.
This time, I found myself falling into the role the classes had prepared me for, helping him breath, offering him comfort, and even giving him my hand to squeeze to the point of wondering if it was all broken.
Less than an hour later, they were placing our beautiful and, in all ways, perfect little girl on Reid’s chest, bringing tears of joy to both our eyes. She was ours. We’d created her—more Reid than I, but that didn’t make the moment any less miraculous. We were fathers. Life couldn’t get much better than that.