Mine To Keep (Love By Design 7)

Stupidly, I offered her Gatorade and a packet of brownies I had back in my squad car, but the nurse running the show gave me a dirty look like I was supposed to know she couldn’t have anything.

Remi patted my hand and told me it was okay, sending me downstairs to the cafeteria for a banana before they closed. She said it would help the cramping, but I think she just needed a break from my hovering. There she was comforting me in my blunder. I let her know her friends and her bosses were outside in the waiting area for family, but she didn’t want to see anyone. She merely whispered that she hoped I came back soon, and I promised her I would. My chest panged as I realized we were literally all this girl had.

“I can’t do this.” Remi slumped back against her nest of pillows, looking drained and eyes bloodshot from working so hard. She looked like a princess defeated at the height of war. Her red hair was tangled in a single thick braid lying over her breast in a fiery flame. All she was missing was a crown and maybe a sword to slay her opponent.

“Yes, you can. Just a little longer like the doctor said.” I rubbed her hand in mine—if I could give her my strength, I would. Anything else I said to her was likely a load of shit, and I wouldn’t lie about something I had no idea about.

“I don’t know, Evan.” Her chest heaved unsteadily, and it physically hurt my heart to see her so pained. “What if I can’t? What if I can’t push this little person out like I’m supposed to?” Her lips were pale and quivery. Tears streaked down her cheeks.

“No. We don’t think like that.” I didn’t want to contemplate that direction of thinking. Remi was scared. I was terrified for her, but she would delivery this baby just fine. That was the only acceptable outcome.

“Ms. Kennedy, if we can’t deliver soon, the baby’s condition is going to deteriorate. We need to discuss other options.” He meant a caesarian birth. I felt green thinking about him, cutting into her to pull the baby out, but maybe that was best. Poor Remi had been at this for hours with no success.

“No.” She shook her head back and forth in denial and paled as another contraction hit her hard.

I wanted to argue with her, this was crazy, she was in pain. The doctor wouldn’t ad

vise this if it wasn’t necessary, and I didn’t know what else to do.

“Remi, maybe we should consider...” Me and my big mouth got a stare of green eyes followed by a contraction that caused her to vomit in the bucket a nurse had shoved into my hand not a moment too soon. “Uh, I mean it’s your decision.” I held the bucket. Yeah, who was I to argue with a woman—not my woman, anyhow—in labor.

“Well, that’s better, finally we’re in transition.” The doctor mumbled and flipped back her sheets. I had no clue what he meant by transition, but I guessed dry heaves were a good thing.

“Don’t look at me, Evan. Please don’t look.” It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about and my stomach flipped.

Honestly, right then I vowed that I would never look at another woman’s pussy again. It was tempting to call my dad and make his dreams come true by finally entering the seminary, but I couldn’t tell her that. What woman would applaud a man going celibate because he was afraid of the power they wielded between their legs? Yeah, not this guy. I was already a preacher’s son and well-schooled in sin. Besides, I was sure this vow could easily break given the right motivation and several beers in a few weeks. Last thing I needed to do was get all dramatic just because my libido suddenly got scared like a turtle.

“I won’t. I promise.” It was too late because I already saw the angry parts of her straining to push the baby out. The small involuntary glimpse I saw already defied logic, scaring me. The human body was an amazing thing but more amazing when you got to retain some kind of mystery over the mechanics of said things.

“Can you get behind her? Help hold her up so she can push? She’s in transition and things will speed up now.” One of the more helpful nurses directed me to take my shoes off. I pulled my shirt out of my pants and undid my bullet-proof vest, dropping it on a chair along with my gun belt. Those would just get in my way. Gingerly, I moved onto the bed to sit behind Remi.

“Hey.” I talked to her over her bare shoulder, and she turned her cheek next to my face, leaning back into my arms. “It’s gonna be okay, you know that, right?” I wasn’t sure it was going to be okay, but I was there, and I would do whatever I could to help out the little momma, even if I was lying to both of us. Maybe this was weird my being there, but as long as she needed me, I would help her through this.

“Yeah, thanks.” She groaned deeply and my hands touched the sides of her rigid belly, feeling the next contraction as it ripped her apart. I held her upright and she strained to push. Her body was so stiff I was afraid she would break in half. The doctor pushed her gown up, showing her belly rounded like a hard basketball.

“That’s great, Ms. Kennedy. I can see the head now.” Oddly fascinated, I peered over her belly to see this, but she pinched my arm.

“Don’t look at me,” she pleaded on a grunt, and I shifted to keep her comfortable again, bracing her leg the way the nurse had showed me earlier.

“Aye, Aye, Captain.” Eyes straight ahead, I kissed the back of her head, breathing in her sweet scent through the sweat and tears. I let her relax into my hold as another contraction hit her full force. She leaned into me, grunting, her hand twisted in the bed sheets. I slipped my hand under her arm. Her fingers flexed, grabbing a hold, squeezing my fingers on each push.

Everyone coaxed her to push harder. We finally made it to nine measly centimeters, and that was probably as good as it was going to get for her with contractions coming what felt like nonstop for her poor body. I’d never felt such a tight force within a tiny body like this before.

“Keep pushing, Remi. Come on, sweet girl, you’ve got this.” My fingers curled with hers as she clutched hard, bearing down one last time. Every part of her looked bright red, ready to pop from her efforts. The heart rate monitor jumped and dipped. I wasn’t sure whose heartbeat it was targeting, but it didn’t sound good.

Remi screamed again, turning her face into my shoulder, and I held her steady. My legs braced hers and I felt something soak my uniform pants. Funny thing about that, what grossed me out just moments before and swore me off women indefinitely also bonded me deeper to Remington than I thought possible.

As her screams dwindled down to silence, and her limp body sank into me, another cry pierced the air. Silent at first and barely discernible until a loud cry bellowed from the purple mass pulled from her body. It was the visceral kind of sound that affected you if you were human. I had no choice but to feel a little choked up over the tiny miracle that somehow became a larger part of my new reality.

“Ms. Kennedy, you have a son.” The doctor placed the wriggling baby on her chest, and I helped her weak arms wrap around him securely. I was afraid after all that work, she didn’t have a steady hold of him.

“Sweet girl, he’s beautiful, just like you.” I hugged them both, caught up in the moment while the doctor went to town between her legs, stitching her up. I was content to not see that quilting bee while I held her shaking in my arms.

“I’m so tired.” She huffed. Time slowed down around us as the chaos reeled back to a normal pace. Her voice was nothing but a whisper among the beeping machines and whirlwind of activity. The hospital played the baby chimes, and I kissed her bare shoulder again like she was mine, and for a second I believed it. After all, I was the one there, and the prick who knocked her up was far from being found.

I had trouble finding my voice. “He needs a name, Remi.”

“Ethan. Ethan West Kennedy Mmm…” And then she slumped in my arms as the baby wailed, slipping down her chest toward her deflated belly into the nurse’s capable hands. Loud staccato beeps filled the room pacing slower and slower. I knew, just knew, it was Remi’s poor heart.