“My doctor,” I cried when we were on the road to the hospital. “She’s on vacation. Who’s going to deliver the baby?” My panic was starting to set in, and I began to gasp for breath. “Oh my God! Why didn’t I go to the hospital when my water first broke? I need a fucking C-section. Mila, drive faster.”
She reached out and caught one of my hands in hers. “River, babe, calm down. The stress is bad for you and Rocco. Everything is going to be fine. I promise. Just take a few deep breaths with me. In…and out. Deep air in…slow breath out.”
I followed her instructions and felt some of the panic ease. Rubbing my hands over my stomach, I began talking to my son. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to be calm for you and your daddy, but I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
Ever since we’d found out we were pregnant, I’d tried to keep a positive attitude. It had taken so long for us to conceive that I’d wondered if it would ever happen. When I got that positive test, I’d worried about having another miscarriage, but things had progressed so beautifully that it had felt more like a dream. Then I’d turned into a grouch at the beginning of the third trimester, and about six weeks ago, Maverick had started freaking out about everything, constantly worried about me and the baby.
I got it. He was scared of something happening to one or both of us. I secretly thought it was adorable, even though I acted annoyed by his overwhelming overprotectiveness. I thought if I was the calm one, then Maverick wouldn’t have any reason to stress. But suddenly, I wasn’t calm at all.
At the hospital, Mila pulled up to the women’s center and jumped out. After running inside, she returned a moment later with a man who was pushing a wheelchair. He was at least thirty, with arms bigger than even my husband’s. Opening the passenger door, he gave me a grin as he lifted me effortlessly and placed me in the wheelchair.
“The fuck you doing, picking up my wife?” Maverick’s deep voice boomed as he and his dad walked quickly toward us.
“Mav!” I cried, pulling his attention to me. There was murder in his eyes until they landed on me. “I’m in labor.”
He bent to kiss me. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”
Seeing how calm he was eased a little more of my panic. “Promise?”
“I promise, baby.” He kissed me again before rubbing his hand lovingly over my stomach and straightening. To the male nurse, he growled, “I’ll push my wife. Just show us the way.”
It took less than twenty minutes to get me into a room, examined, and for the doctor on call to have the team of nurses prep me for the C-section. By then, Mav’s mom and my parents had arrived.
“What’s taking so long?” Dad grumbled as he paced the width of my private room. He kept combing his fingers through his hair, disheveling it more and more, giving him an almost deranged look with his face so pale. “She’s in labor. They should be doing something.”
“They are,” Mom hissed at him. “We’re just waiting for them to come get her. You need to relax, because you’re freaking our little girl out right now.”
He blanched then walked over to my hospital bed where I was already hooked up to monitors and an IV. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m just…”
“I’m sorry we won’t be able to have our date tomorrow night,” I told him in hopes of distracting us both. “I was really looking forward to dinner together.”
“Me too, sweetheart.”
I reached for his hand, and he readily took mine, holding on to it tightly. His was sweaty with nerves, and my heart melted. In the past three years, our relationship had come a long way. It had been slow to start, just a father-daughter date every couple weeks to begin with because I’d still been so angry with him. But he’d worked hard to earn back my trust and heal the broken pieces of my heart.
“I’m disappointed because I won’t be able to tell you that Mav and I decided on Rocco’s middle name.” I looked up at my husband, who winked down at me. “We thought Rocco Colton-James Masterson sounded too good together not to give it to our son.”
Dad sucked in a sharp breath at the same time Uncle Spider did too.
“You…” Dad paused to clear his throat. “You’re naming him after both of us?”
“Well, he already acts like both of you,” I said with a small laugh. “I figured it was only fitting to give him both of his grandpas’ names.”
“River, I don’t know what to say,” he said in a choked voice. “I—”
The door opened, and the doctor came in with two nurses. “Are we ready to have a baby?” he asked as the nurses started unhooking the machines I was plugged into that monitored Rocco.
“Definitely,” Maverick told the man. “The sooner, the better.”
My panic began to take over again. Seeing it, Dad bent and kissed the top of my head. “You’re going to be fine, little girl. Maverick won’t let anything happen to you. Be brave,” he whispered. “We’ll all see you soon. Okay?”
I nodded, fighting tears.
“Love you, River.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
Hours later, after everyone had gone home for the night, I sat up in bed with Maverick beside me helping me hold our son for the first time. I was in some major pain, but the medication made me not care. Maverick was helping me hold Rocco because I was all kinds of loopy, and I didn’t want to risk dropping my precious baby boy.