Southern Pleasure (Southern Heart 1)

My room. Shit, I didn’t think about that. Normal couples would be in the room together, but Misty wants nothing to do with my little girl. “Uh, her mom, she doesn’t—-—” She holds up her hand to stop me.

“We are well aware of your situation, Mr. Chamberlin. We’ve moved you to a room at the end of the hall. It’s one of the small rooms that we hardly ever use. It will be yours while you’re here. I’ll send her in with the doctor. It’s room 612.”

Aaron and I make our way to the room and wait. More waiting. “You nervous?” he asks me.

“You have no fucking idea,” I admit.

The door opens and in strolls a nurse pushing a bassinet of sorts with a little bundle wearing a pink hat, the doctor right behind them.

“Evan, everything looks good. Her lungs are strong and she passed all her tests. You have a healthy little girl. I’ve instructed the staff that no one is to be left with her except for you. Misty is on the opposite end of the hall and has made it clear she wants to be discharged as soon as possible. As for you two, she will be able to go home in the morning. We just need you to fill out some paperwork, give this little one a name, and you will be all set. We ask that you follow-up with your pediatrician within three to four days of discharge due to her low birth weight.”

“H-how much did she weigh?”

“Six pounds one ounce and she’s nineteen inches long. Congratulations, Dad,” he says.

I can’t speak, so I nod. The nurse scoops her up and brings her to me. “Would you like to hold your daughter?”

What is it that Aaron said? Does a cat having climbing gear? What kind of question is that? Hell yes, I want to hold her. “Yes,” I croak out. I’m an emotional fucking basket case. I’m nervous as hell. My hands are shaking and my palms are sweaty. What if I drop her? I’m excited to meet her. To be able to hold her after wondering all these months what she would look like.

I finally get to meet my little girl.

The nurse hands her to me, explaining that I need to always support her head. My nervousness must be showing.

“Why is she wrapped up so tight?” She looks like a little white and pink burrito.

The nurse smiles. “Babies like to be swaddled. It makes them feel secure. She was in her momma for all this time, not a lot of space in there,” she patiently explains. Everyone here has been amazing.

“Can I unwrap her? I need to count fingers and toes.” When I was in Alabama visiting my parents and grandparents, Dad made the comment that when he held me for the first time he had to count all my fingers and toes. I remember thinking about how I would feel in this moment; nothing could have prepared me for this.

Nothing.

“Of course you can,” she says.

r /> With shaky hands, I slowly remove the blanket. “She’s so tiny.” I touch her little hand and she clutches onto my finger, onto my heart. I love this little girl with everything in me. I have no fucking clue how to raise her, but I vow in this moment to be the best father and best stand-in mother she’s ever had.

I feel like I’ve been on the phone forever. I called Evan’s parents and his mom continued to pepper me with questions I don’t have the answers to. After promising her multiple times that I would call as soon as I knew more, I was finally able to hang up.

My next call was to his grandparents here in Kentucky. Ethel ran me through the same stage of questions multiple times, until I too had to convince her I would call as soon as I knew more.

The last call was to my parents. Mom didn’t ask near as many questions, understanding I didn’t have the answers yet. However, she too insisted I call when I had them.

I get it. They all love him and even though they’ve never met that little girl, they love her too. I feel bad for his family in Alabama, unable to travel to see her and living so far away. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures to send to them.

Stopping at the nurses’ station, I ask, “Evan Chamberlin, baby girl Chamberlin.” I’m directed to the room all the way at the end of the hall. I quicken my step to get to them.

Slowly pushing open the door, I step into the room. I stop in my tracks as a take in the scene before me. Evan is holding his daughter, her tiny finger tightly gripping his. Aaron is sitting in a chair next to him and they’re both looking down at her like she’s . . . everything.

I wish I had my damn camera. Deciding this moment cannot go without being captured, I reach in my back pocket and pull out my phone. I tap the screen. The shutter sound that the photographer in me refuses to turn off alerts them to my presence.

Evan and Aaron lift their heads to look at me, both wearing grins that light up the room. I can see from my spot just inside the door that Evan has watery eyes and if I’m not mistaken, Aaron does too. These “tough guys” are brought to their knees by this precious baby girl.

“Kinley,” Evan breathes my name, grabbing a hold of my heart.

Walking further into the room, I stop in front of Evan and bend down. He adjusts his hold on her, so I can get a better look. I reach out and touch her tiny hands and she latches onto my finger. My eyes find Evan’s and I can’t describe the look in his eyes. My heart is racing and I’m overwhelmed by what’s happening. This little girl brought us together. Our friendship grew because of her. Now, here, on the day we finally get to meet her, she’s still bringing us together.

“Evan, she’s beautiful,” I say as tears begin to fall. “Is she okay? How much does she weigh? What did the doctor say?” I fire off some of the questions I just fielded with our families. “Can I hold her?” I blurt out.

Evan chuckles. “Yeah, I just need to wrap her back up.”