Claiming Serenity(91)

Donovan kissed her neck when she stretched against the pillow and Layla had just enough energy to flick his nose. “Ow, brat.”

“Oh please. You don’t know pain, Donley.”

“But I will, right, princess? The way you’re squeezing my hand.”

A quick glare and Donovan shut up, the nurses and doctor laughing beyond that curtain as his stupid comment.

“In my defense, you’d been crying wolf for weeks. Twice you freaked me out at three a.m. claiming to be in labor.” Layla pushed his face away, ignoring him, wanting nothing more at that moment than to pull each of his eyelashes out one by one. Donovan adjusted his mask and tried kissing her forehead but Layla moved her head away. “Baby…”

“Oh shut up. I just wanted ice cream. It was the only way to get you up. Besides, you tried selling Honey to that slutbag bartender at McKinney’s.”

“Layla… that dog hates me.”

“And?” She couldn’t believe he was trying to reason his way out of very bastardly behavior. “He freakin loves me and he’s my damn dog.”

“But the baby… we can’t have that dog around the baby.”

Layla lifted on her elbows, screwing up her nose into a scrunch she hoped would tell Donovan to shut up. “I’d rather him around the baby than you.”

When Donovan stood up, dropped Layla’s hand, she caught the small pat the nurse to his left gave him and ignored the woman’s small quip of, “They can get mean if the pain is too much.”

“The pain is fine,” Layla said, leaning back against the hospital bed. “It’s this asshole not believing me when I said I was in labor that is a pain in my ass right now.”

“We got here, that’s all that matters, right?” She tried not to notice how his features had hardened, how they slipped between frustration and guilt.

“We got here too late for an epidural!”

“Okay, Layla, here comes another one.”

And when the doctor’s stern tone returned and Layla felt another searing wave of agony rush through her body, she forgot her anger. She forgot everything but the thought that Donovan was not holding her hand, that she couldn’t see his face. He was there as she jerked her head to the left, as she clutched the railing on the bed. “Don’t leave…” she said, catching his eyes, fear subsiding when he took her hand off the rail and held it.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His lips were warm, soothing as he kissed her knuckles. “I’m right here.” And Layla closed her eyes, gritted through that sharp pain and bore down, feeling the slow slip of something moving through her. “God, you’re so fucking strong.” She barely registered his hand on the back of her neck, helping her push, or his forehead against her temple. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“It hurts.”

“Can’t you give her something?” Donovan’s voice was loud, panicked and she missed the warmth of his breath when he shouted at the nurse.

“No time,” Dr. Samuels said. She could feel the woman’s fingers on her thighs. “Layla, push, right now!”

Then that slow burn grew sharper, brighter and Layla screamed from the core of her being, her heart stammering until she smelled Donovan’s cologne, felt his hot breath against her ear as he whispered encouragement, astonishment to reassure her, and they rode that wave out together.

An hour later Layla woke feeling like her skin had been electrified. She was calmer, relieved that the stinging burn of the baby ripping her body had transformed into something mild and numbing.

Blinking, she sighed, cringing only when her thighs, her center felt languid and buzzing and then she slipped her focus to Donovan as he sat on the other side of the room, snuggling the baby and sounding nothing like the tough rugby player he’d always been.

Layla had never seen him smile that way, all joy, bliss that could not be contained and just the sight of her new husband, hardly three weeks now, and that tiny little person sleeping in his hands had Layla’s eyes burning and that thick knot in her raw throat pulsing. He caught her gaze, smiling wider as he looked at her, then whispered next to that small bundle. “Here she is. Here’s your mama.” He spoke to the baby like she understood him, like she knew exactly what those jumble of noises coming out of his mouth made any sense whatsoever, but Layla didn’t care. She only had eyes for that soft, fragile skin and the sweet tuft of white blonde hair peeking out beneath the small cap as Donovan placed their daughter in her arms.

“She okay?” Layla spoke to Donovan, smiling, but could not pull her attention away from the most beautiful little face she’d ever seen.