Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
I press my lips to her forehead and shut her door, jogging to the driver's side. As soon as my ass is in the seat, we're on the road, racing back down the mountain toward the nearest hospital.
"You doing okay, Sunshine?"
"Yes," she whispers. "The contraction stopped."
I exhale a relieved breath.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
She sits back in her seat.
Approximately sixty seconds later, the next contraction hits.
There's no fucking way we're making it to the hospital.
"Deacon!" she cries. "Drive faster!"
"I'm driving, baby. But I can only go so fast. I'm not going to risk killing you or the baby to get us there," I say.
"I can't have a baby in the car."
"I don't think you have a choice, Sunshine. He's coming."
"Why does nature hate me?" she cries.
If she wasn't so scared, I'd laugh.
"Deacon?" she whispers, clinging to my hand an hour later as the ambulance loads her into the back. "Are you sure the baby is okay?"
"Yeah, Sunshine," I promise, pressing my lips to her forehead. "He's good. You did good."
We didn't make it to the hospital. We didn't even make it down the damn mountain. Our boy decided he was ready to make his entrance, and that was that. I delivered him on the side of the road…though truthfully, I didn't do a whole hell of a lot. She had that shit handled. I just did what I was told. What can I say? I may have been a firefighter in a past life, but my wife is a superhero in this one.
The paramedics grabbed the baby up as soon as they got here—five minutes too late—and started checking him over, but he's doing great. He's a big boy, just like his brothers. We named him Atlas.
"We're never having sex again," she mumbles, making one of the EMTs chuckle.
I shoot him a hard glare. He quickly zips it and busies himself with supplies.
"Whatever you want, Sunshine," I say, knowing she doesn't mean it. As soon as she bounces back, she'll be rearing to go again. "Maybe four should be our limit."
"What?" She blinks at me, suddenly more alert than she was two seconds ago. "You don't want more babies? But I want a girl."
"You just said…" I trail off, shaking my head. "Never mind. We'll get you your girl, Cordelia. Just as soon as you recover from this one." I pause. "But next time, maybe we don't go to the cabin in the third trimester."
"Smart plan," she says. "We should definitely have more sex at the cabin before the third trimester."
I laugh, leaning down to press my lips to hers. "Now you're speaking my language, little girl," I breathe against her lips.
"I love you."
"I love you, Sunshine."
A paramedic carries Atlas to us, bundled in blankets.
"He's doing great, mama," she says, laying him on Cordelia's chest. She immediately cuddles him close, some of the tension draining from her body. "He's a healthy little guy. You did good."
"Hi, baby boy," my wife whispers, her eyes locked on our son. "You're going to be our little troublemaker just like me, aren't you?"
"Fuck," I whisper, a lump rising in my throat as I watch her cuddle him close, complete adoration lighting her up. It's the most beautiful sight, outstripping the mountains by miles.