He let out a breath of relief at being able to look to the future with some optimism. He'd gotten the good news just that morning: the odds were now in their child's favor. He was expected to grow up without any complications. He wasn't completely out of danger quite yet, but every day that passed was a day in his favor and his prognosis looked good.
He'd shared the news with Ava less than an hour ago. He'd sat by her bedside and held her hand and whispered that their baby was going to be okay.
Had he imagined the look of ease that had come over Ava's features at the good news? Her eyelids hadn't flickered. Her lips hadn't curved into a smile. But somehow, he knew that she knew. On the inside. Even though she hadn't woken up since she'd been brought to the hospital, how could their beautiful boy exist and his mother not feel him somehow?
She had to know.
He needed her to know.
And he needed their son to be well enough to go home. He wanted to sit in a chair and hold him. He wanted to give him a bottle and learn how to change a diaper. He wanted life to get back to normal—well, a new normal, anyway. But how could that ever be if Ava wasn't going home with them? He needed Ava to be right there with them, and not just for the baby. God, he needed her awake—for himself. He needed so many things and he hated himself for it. Maybe she needed to sleep more.
A wave of misery moved through his veins as he said goodnight to the nursery staff and headed back to Ava's hospital room.
Ethan looked down at her, so small and still in the hospital bed, and felt himself break out in a cold sweat. He needed her to wake up and be with him. He couldn't hold on much longer. The stress and strain were taking a toll. Dear God, he needed her to wake up. He needed to squeeze her and hold her and tell her how much he loved her. And he needed her to hear him. With her eyes open. Jesus, he needed that.
He adjusted the bedrail and climbed in next to her and took her in his arms, careful not to interfere with the monitoring equipment or her IV line. He knew he was going to incur the wrath of the nurse when she made her rounds, but he didn't care. He'd do what he always did when she told him to get off the bed: he'd narrow his eyes and growl under his breath and not move a single muscle, then she'd huff and puff about hospital procedures as she checked Ava's vital signs and let him be.
Why wouldn't Ava wake up? The doctors couldn't find a medical explanation. All the tests had checked out fine. Maybe she just needed more rest. Or maybe the doctors were right, and the coma was protecting her from all the bad shit she'd have to face when she finally rejoined the world. Maybe she wasn't ready to face life without her father.
As he settled into the bed, he rested his cheek on the top of her head and told her all about their boy's day. He rambled on in a low voice, hoping against hope that she could hear him and would know he was there. He continued to talk, about anything and everything. He told her how he'd felt the first time he kissed her. He told her about what she did to his insides. He confessed about how long he'd wanted her. He talked about more kids and where they would live and how awesome it would be to finally be together. He told her how happy they were going to be and where he was going to take her on their first anniversary. He talked until he was hoarse, until he couldn't go on any longer. So he kissed her hair and closed his eyes. He moved down a bit and gently rested his head against her chest while he listened to her heartbeat.
Come back to me, baby.
As he lay beside her, he took comfort from her heartbeat. He reminded himself to stay strong; Ava needed him to be strong. He didn't have a choice, he had to hang on.
And he refused to consider the possibility that she might never wake up.
He couldn't go there. He absolutely wouldn't go there.
****
A week later
Ethan got the phone call at seven in the morning.
Swift, joyous relief took hold in the middle of his chest and radiated outward until he felt soaring elation in every cell of his being.
He made it to the hospital in ten minutes flat.
He sprinted across the parking lot and took the stairs, not willing to wait for an elevator. He charged into Ava's room, opening the door without knocking. The thought never occurred to him.
Ava was sitting up in bed, holding their baby.
Holding their baby!!
She stared up at him, drinking him in. "Sorry," she said softly, "I just couldn't wait to hold him." He could tell she'd been crying, and her mouth quivered as she took in the sight of him as he stood in the doorway. He knew for a fact he looked haggard. He'd dropped some weight in recent weeks and he hadn't shaved in a few days. She didn't seem to mind.
Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, facing Ava, smoothing her hand over his son's soft tufts of hair. Conflicting emotions rushed through him but he quickly squelched any residual animosity he harbored toward her. Now was not the time.
There was no question the older woman would never win any awards for motherhood, but she had come through for him and Ava during the grueling weeks after the birth. In addition to his own mom, Mrs. Anderson had been his support system through all of this. She'd been by Ava's bedside when he hadn't been able to be there because of his punishing schedule.
And for that, he was thankful. He really was and had told her so more than once.
Ava's mom glanced up. She gave him an understanding look, seeming to recognize the moment for what it was: private. She quickly stood, kissed Ava and the baby and left the room.
The door shut and he stepped toward the bed. He took the place her mother had just vacated and smoothed his hand over their son's head, his heart overflowing. Then he lifted it and cradled Ava's silky cheek. Her eyes began brimming with tears.
"My daddy's dead," she whispered on a sob.
He shut his eyes, her pain almost too much to bear. But then he opened them again, determined to be the man she needed him to be.
"I know," he said gently, climbing into bed next to her so he could hold her, so he could cradle her in his arms. "I'm so, so sorry." As Ava snuggled against him, quietly weeping with their son held against her chest, he put a supporting arm underneath hers and rocked them both.
After a couple of moments, she sobbed out, "I didn't even get to go to the funeral."
Ethan tried to soothe her with a caressing touch. After a moment, she glanced up. "But you went, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he whispered, his throat closing up at the horrendous memory.
Ava let out a sob followed by another. She leaned her head against his shoulder. In communing silence, they both stared down at their son as they tried to get a grip.
After a moment, she glanced at him and held his eyes. "You named him Evan," she whispered.
Had he done the right thing? Should he have named the baby after her father? "I didn't know what to do. I waited as long as I could but they basically made me fill out the birth certificate. I couldn't believe we'd never talked about names. And your dad—"
He was interrupted by the door opening again. The morning nurse came in and recognizing him well, her face split into a grin. "Well now," she said as she moved to take the baby from Ava. "Come here, little man. Let's give Daddy some time with Mommy," she cooed as she cradled their baby in capable arms.
And then the door closed again. He wished their son could be here, but he knew he still needed to be monitored. At least Ava had gotten to hold him for a while.
So now it was just him and Ava. He smoothed his thumb over her cheek as he held her eyes with his. "Alone at last," he whispered, joy pounding through his veins as her cheeks heated. And then he hesitated. "About the name. I hope that was okay."
"My God, yes, Ethan." She curled up against him and a rush of profound relief eased the tension that had occupied his chest for weeks.
The mixture of grief and joy that surrounded them was overwhelming to him, even though he knew he'd had more time to adjust to their new circumstances. On the other hand, Ava was experiencing the first precious moments of motherhood, an
d her father had been gone for only a matter of moments. Ethan knew she'd probably feel out of step for a while, but together, they'd see it through.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered against her ear as he rocked her to him.
She began sobbing anew in his arms as Ethan held her while she trembled, crying hard for a long while.
Slowly, her sobs became hiccups and finally, she quieted. There was an expectant intake of breath, then more stillness.
"What?" he murmured.
"He called me from his car. Before…everything. We had the best talk. He was so sweet. He was so sad about leaving mom, but he was so happy about his grandson. He told me he was going to spoil him rotten."
Ethan's heart clenched and he struggled for a moment before clearing his throat. "Then we'll have to love him twice as much." He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "That'll be easy."
When she leaned back to study him, her eyes were still awash with tears. "I love you," she whispered.
His heartbeat staggered in elation. "Oh, Ava. I love you, too."
She watched him closely for a moment before her eyes dropped as if embarrassed. "I know it's been weeks but it doesn't feel like it to me."
"I know, baby. I'll help you adjust in any way I can."
"I know it's ridiculous at this point but Ethan—those bitches in your room upset me."
A piercing thrust much like a dagger sliced through his heart. Her anguish was his fault, or at least, he felt responsible. "I'm so sorry for what happened. I'm sorry I wasn't honest about my roommate and his sluts." As Ava listened quietly and intently, he continued, "I should have told you. I should have known you'd be strong enough to handle the situation. But I took the easy way out and tried to ignore everything that was going on. I mean, I'd tried for a room transfer several times but it didn't work. The good news is that after the baby was born and with you in the hospital, I pitched a fit louder than shit. They finally moved me. I'm in my own room now."