“Take a breather, Katie. This next push will get him out. I need you to push him out this time. Get ready,” the doctor says.
“You got this, sweetness. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I look up into Hunter’s eyes and breathe, taking my strength from him and the sound of Bethie’s voice.
“Fish-lips Johnny,” I clarify. “All the girls said his lips felt cold and slimy. Bethie dared me to kiss him to find out.” I huff, feeling the contraction start.
“Were they?” Hunter asks.
I can’t answer because I feel the contraction slide from my back all around my stomach and I know this is the big one. I’m pushing my baby out now. I can do this.
“Turns out, he was more of an octopus tongue. Felt like he had eight of those in your mouth at once,” Bethie cries.
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“Well, after Katie bragged, I had to try it too, Skull.”
His response is lost as I scream until I’m sure I strip a vocal cord. I bear down as hard as I can, then feel the baby leave my body. As the doctors declare my victory, I fall back on the pillow, exhausted. I open my eyes when I hear my baby’s cry.
“Is he okay?” I ask, my voice hoarse and weak.
The nurse comes over holding a naked, squirming baby boy, placing him on my chest.
“He’s beautiful, Katydid. Just like his momma,” Hunter says, his voice hoarse as he comes back to me, brushing his hand across my hair and kissing my forehead. A few minutes later, a nurse comes over and places the baby on my chest.
“Ten fingers and ten toes, I’d say he’s perfect,” she says.
I look down at our beautiful baby boy with a small patch of sandy blonde hair on his head and these perfect little lips and tiny fingers, trying to wrap around one of mine. He’s so quiet, staring up at me and Hunter as if he’s trying to decide if this is a good thing. I see a little smile almost come across his lips. Can newborns smile? My son can. I look up at Hunter, feeling completely at peace for the first time in my life.
“Look what we did,” I gush, my happiness boiling over with tears in my eyes.
“It’s what you did, sweetness. All you. He’s perfect.”
“Hunter Bartholomew Evans,” I whisper.
“Bartholomew? Mierda! Why are you giving him that name? He’ll have to beat up his whole school for picking on him with that name!” Skull says. I grin up at Hunter, my husband, my partner, my rock.
“Katie and I are going to call him Bad Bart,” he says with a wink. Only he and I know that Bartholomew is Hunter’s middle name. A small secret. It’s okay, his secret is safe with me. Just like I know that our child and I will always be safe with this man.
“I love you,” I tell him, and those three words seem like so little when you realize what they encompass. He gives me air to live.
“I love you too, Katydid. I always will.”
With my life, I never thought I could believe in a man, let alone a promise he gives me. I know that no matter what, I can always trust in Hunter’s, though. Peace, just one of the gifts he gives me.
“Bethie you better hurry up over there. Hunter’s getting lonely.”
“Working on it,” she huffs, and I wink up at Hunter, right before the nurse comes over and starts giving breastfeeding instructions. I get ready for even more blessings that having Hunter in my life has given. I do believe my cup runneth over… and if the big sloppy tears of joy falling from my eyes give me away, no one comments. Least of all my husband, who has the same tears in his face as our child suckles from my breast.
BETH & SKULL
“Beth, are you ready, mi cielo? We’re going to be late for Thomas’s birthday party,” I call before walking into the bedroom of our new home.
I had our new home custom-built right by the dock where Beth and I got married. Torch and Katie are right up the road, too. Far enough away so I won’t have to kill Torch, but close enough so our children can be together, because one thing has shown itself in the last two months: these kids are going to bond. They somehow instantly sense when the other is in the room.
Diego Cruz was born exactly fifteen minutes after little Bart made his appearance. He’s got Beth’s blonde hair, my dark eyes, and a mixture of both of us when it comes to his personality. He’s perfect, and Gabby is fascinated by her little brother. She’s walking beside me, her little hand in mine, and it never fails to make me feel like I’m ten feet tall.
“Mommy’s sleeping, Papi,” she whispers. She calls me Papi. There was no coaching, nothing; she just picked it up one day and it clicked, and I’ve been Papi ever since. My daughter is the smartest child on the planet, and I’m definitely the proudest.