Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
“Let me know if you need me to file a complaint,” I offer as I help Aubrey out of the wheelchair and onto the bed.
“It would be helpful,” she says as Aubrey has another contraction. Once it passes, we help her change into a hospital gown and lie back against the pillow.
“I’m so thirsty.” Aubrey’s face contorts in pain with another contraction and I eye the clock. I haven’t been keeping track, but they seem to be coming even closer together.
“Can you get her some water?” I ask the nurse.
She shakes her head while picking up the pink plastic pitcher on the table next to the bed. “She can’t have water, but you can feed her some ice chips. They’ll help with the dry mouth.”
Aubrey lets out a little whimper, and I press a kiss against her sweaty forehead. “Sorry, baby. I promise once the baby’s here and you’ve got the all-clear from your doctor, I’ll get you whatever you want to drink.”
“Even a milkshake from Lulu’s?”
Lulu’s is an old-fashioned diner about an hour north of us, but that doesn’t change my answer. “If a milkshake from Lulu’s is what you want, then that’s exactly what you’ll get. As often as you want them.”
“Awww, I wish all the daddies were as sweet as you,” the nurse says, handing off the pitcher of ice chips and a spoon to me.
“He’s not the father,” Aubrey admits softly with tears in her eyes. I have to swallow down a lump in my throat, and it’s not just because I know she’s remembering how she got pregnant. It’s also because there’s a big part of me that wants to lay claim to her daughter and her.
Aubrey squeezes my hand, and I focus on her beautiful face. “You’re the only person in the world I want to have with me when she comes into this world.”
“Just try and get rid of me.”
The nurse laughs. “I’m not volunteering for that job. I can only imagine how many security guards it would take to rip you from her side.”
“All of them,” I mutter, knowing damn well I’d fight to my last breath to stay at her side now that she’s let me in.
Aubrey’s hold on my hand tightens to the point of pain, and I breathe a sigh of relief when the doctor finally arrives. Things move quickly from there, and a sense of pride fills me with how well Aubrey holds up through it all.
“Sorry, it’s too late for an epidural,” the doctor says, lowering the sheet back into place after checking her.
“She’s in pain,” I point out.
He looks at me. “I know, but unfortunately she’s progressing too fast for her to get one now.” He pats my arm after he stands and says, “She’ll be okay.”
I want to punch him in the face and ask if he’ll be okay, but I don’t. Instead, I focus on Aubrey for the next hour and a half, whispering words of encouragement and feeding her ice chips. When the time comes, I hold one of her legs back until the beautiful sound of a baby crying fills the room.
“It’s a girl!” the doctor confirms.
I look up and lock eyes on Aubrey’s daughter for the first time, feeling my heart pounds hard in my chest. One look and I’m done for. She already owns my soul, just like her mom does.
I divide my attention between both my girls as the doctor finishes up with Aubrey and the nurses check over the baby before cleaning her up. When all the excitement is over, the nurse places the baby in Aubrey’s arms.
“She’s beautiful,” she whispers, tracing a shaking finger over the baby’s cheek.
“Just like her mommy,” I agree.
“Have you picked out a name yet?” the nurse asks.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Aubrey and I answer at the same time, and I’m surprised, because the last time we talked, she told me she hadn’t decided for sure yet. “What did you decide on, baby?”
“I’d like to name her Jenna Ann.”
“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” The nurse writes the baby’s name down onto a notecard and places it in the bassinet in the corner of the room.
Aubrey smiles at me, but there’s a hint of worry in her tired blue eyes. Wanting to wipe that look away, I brush a kiss against the top of her head and whisper, “You did good. Jenna Ann is the perfect name for her.”
“It’s more perfect than you know.” She looks down at Jenna’s sweet sleeping face and touches her cheek. “There’s a tradition in my family when it comes to naming babies,” she admits softly as she takes my hand and holds on tight.
She doesn’t talk about her family much, which I get, considering everything she’s been through. I figure that bringing them up now is a big deal for her, and I hook my foot around the chair leg at the end of the bed and pull it toward me so I can drop down into it without letting go of her hand. “Did the tradition help you pick Jenna’s name?”