Corps Security, The Series (1)(99)

“Feeling okay, Princess?”

“I’m feeling great. Sway pampered me good. He even made one of the shampoo boys massage my feet!”

I bite back the displeasure I feel about another man with his hands on my woman. She needs today to be perfect and my being a possessive ass won’t help.

“Can Dee stay for dinner? I told her we were going to grill out and she said she would love to spend some more time with me.”

“Sure, baby.” I give Dee a hug and start walking Izzy out to the deck.

I hear her gasp from behind me when her eyes take in everything in front of her. Our friends all yell, “Surprise!” and I feel her jump through our joined hands. Her hand squeezes mine tightly and I go to turn around. She looks shocked but not about her surroundings.

“Um . . . Axel?” I hear Dee call back from inside the house. She is standing behind Izzy and looking down at the ground with an odd expression across her face.

“Yeah?”

“Oh boy,” she says, looking up to meet my eyes, and I note the apprehension.

Izzy squeezes my hand, harder this time, and whispers my name. “Axel?” It comes out so light I almost miss it.

Shit, she must hate it.

“Baby?” she tries again.

I turn to look into her eyes and frown when I see sweat beginning to gather around her temples and worry lines across her forehead. “Izzy, what’s wrong?”

“HOLY SHIT HER WATER BROKE!” I hear Greg yell from behind me.

I look down, and sure enough, there is a small puddle of water between her feet. Her handle on my hand hasn’t lightened up, and I know that my girl is in pain.

She gives a small, strained nod and waits a few seconds for the contraction to ease up before opening her eyes and looking into my own.

“He’s coming,” she whispers with a brilliant smile.

Everything moves fast from there. I quickly usher her out to the car. We had stopped using the truck months ago when it became too uncomfortable for her to get in and out. Dee and Greg run to his truck and the rest of the gang files out. Emmy yells that she will stay behind, make sure everything is turned off, and meet us at the hospital. I don’t care. Let the house burn down. My son is on his way.

We make it to the hospital in good time, but by the time we arrive, Izzy is in more pain than before. Her contractions are coming quick and she keeps screaming out in pain. It kills me to hear her hurting and know there is nothing I can do about it. I start telling her how much I love her and try to reassure her with my words until she looks over at me with fire in her eyes and tells me to shut the fuck up. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she is apologizing. My poor girl. If I could do this for her, I would in a heartbeat.

I pull up to the front of the hospital and, without even shutting off the car, sprint over to her side and carry her inside.

Someone will move the car. If they don’t, then they can tow it. There is no way I’m leaving my girl.

They get us checked in and into a room quickly. Izzy is hooked up to a million different monitors and machines. I’m told that they all monitor her and our son, but I am too busy worrying about her to even pay attention to the nurses. They seem to think we have all the time in the world. Why isn’t anyone doing something? Anything!

We have been here for about an hour when she lets out the loudest tortured cry. The sound stops my heart, and I look around frantically for help. The nurses all spring into action and start shoving the bed around, turning on different machines and barking orders at me.

I hold Izzy’s hand and try to help her, but looking at her beautiful face breaking down in agony is almost too much.

“You’re doing great, Princess. He’ll be here soon.”

She tries to give me a smile but it’s cut off when she lets out another scream.

“You’re fully dilated, ma’am. Let’s have a birthday.”

Izzy starts pushing at the doctor’s commands and I start slowly dying inside. My girl . . . I can’t handle her being in this much pain. My mental distress for her continues, but I try to hide it and be the support she needs. I rub her forehead with the wet cloth one nurse thrusted into my hands. I curl my arm around her back and help her lean into her pushes, holding hold her leg open with my other arm.

Thirty minutes later, at the end of a long push, I hear the most magical sound I have ever heard. My son is taking his first breath and letting out a loud, healthy cry.

“Would you like to cut the cord, Daddy?” the doctor asks.

I nod my head lamely and take the scissors. The nurses take him off to the side after I finish.

I look down at Izzy and kiss her forehead. She meets my gaze and, with tears in her eyes, says, “Hey, Daddy.” That is all it takes for me to drop a few tears of my own.