Ram Remy (Providence Family Ties 4)

“Honey,” Nanette said softly, “he’s going to have a million bumps and thumps. The second he starts walking on his own, he’ll fall, bump into things, and end up with the same injuries you had when you were that age. I’ll bet if you asked your mom about it, she’d have a million stories to tell.”

I shook my head rapidly. “That’s not true, I’ve never even sprained my ankle. The only one who’s ever hurt himself is my younger brother, and he survived it because he’s part mutant.” Looking to the side, I mumbled, “Or because he’s the antichrist, but I’m sure Mom wouldn’t like it if we called him that.”

I hadn’t meant for the last bit to be audible, but the chuckles from both the nurse and Remy showed it’d been loud enough for them to hear.

Focusing back on what she’d said, I added, “And he won’t hurt himself once he starts walking. His daddy baby-proofed the place that thoroughly, we all just bounce from surface to surface. It’s like Fort Knox trying to even get into a cupboard or a drawer. Hell, it takes me five minutes to lift the lid of the toilet because of the stupid lock on it.”

Nanette’s eyes swung back to Remy, who didn’t look at all upset by my declaration. He was probably relieved it worked so well, which made me wonder how he lived with the place like it was. Didn’t it get old arguing with the seat just so you could pee? What about the special things on the hot taps to stop them from turning unless you fiddled with them the right way?

“Safety is a must when it comes to kids, but sometimes we can go overboard. I was just like that with my first, but with my second, third, and fourth”—holy shit, she’d squeezed a baby out four times?—“I was a totally different person. I still had things in sockets and kept cleaning stuff locked up, but other than that, I was more relaxed. He’s your first, isn’t he?”

When both of us nodded, she rocked back on her heels. “Well, there you go. By number four, you’ll be holding them, vacuuming, and talking on the phone at the same time, while the other three run around like heathens.”

I began fanning my face, trying to get rid of the mist of sweat that’d broken out at the image she’d described. I couldn’t imagine ever being like that with kids. I also couldn’t imagine giving birth four times. My vagina struggled with tampons, how would it cope squeezing out four watermelons? Maybe that was why she wasn’t as paranoid about babies two-to-four, because of problems down there?

Needing a distraction, I looked down at where Toby was playing with the neckline of my top and examined the bump on his head. If I was being honest with myself, it wasn’t that bad. It was slightly swollen, but the bruise in the middle looked ugly on his sweet little face.

Maybe the doctors were right? If the bump wasn’t that big, could it have caused any major damage to his brain that they hadn’t found with their tests? Having bumped my head badly quite a few times, including once three months ago when I fell off my horse and hit my head on the ground—which had fortunately been soft thanks to some rain—I knew you didn’t always end up with a concussion or bad injury.

“I’m good with taking him home,” Remy murmured, looking at me like he understood what I was thinking. “I don’t mind staying up with him and watching for any changes.”

Before I could say anything, Nanette snickered. “It’s unlikely you’ll want to stay awake once your painkillers wear off and you’re waiting for the next ones to kick in. Your boy may not have a bad injury, but you’ve had quite a conk to the noggin on an area that technically wasn’t made to take one. Your eyes are already bruising and swelling, and they’re likely going to get worse before they get better.”

Remy looked at me, likely checking she was telling the truth.

“She’s right. You’ve got bruising under them just now, and your nose looks weird.”

Sighing, he shook his head. “That’s just awesome. Okay, so we can go home now?”

“I’m officially discharging you into the hands of Momma.” Turning to me, she smiled sympathetically. “Good luck looking after two sick boys.”

I didn’t get to correct her because Toby chose that moment to start crying. A glance at my watch showed it was almost time for his bottle and bedtime, and given that he needed another bath because of the blood, his routine was going to be messed up.

I probably should have heeded the wishes for luck with two sick boys, though. I knew from having two brothers, a dad, a grandpa that I loved hugely, and a stepdad, that sick males weren’t always easy.