The Rocker Who Cherishes Me (The Rocker 8)

“Mari?” Wroth clutched my hand harder and I tried to give him a brave smile as suddenly the pressure was gone and the sound of a screaming baby filled the air. Wroth’s head snapped up at the sound of our child crying. When he looked back down at me, he had tears in his espresso eyes. “Mari…”

“We have a boy,” the doctor announced and then the pressure started up again as he moved things around inside of me and pulled out another baby. “Say hello to boy number two.” Wroth’s hold on my hand was nearly to the point that I worried about the bones in my fingers snapping but I just laughed happily as the pressure came again followed by the announcement of yet another son.

The room was full of three screaming little baby boys and they each had their own doctor and nurse working with them as they were checked over and cleaned up. But the doctor wasn’t done with me yet and I bit my lip as I waited for the doctors to take the fourth and final baby.

“Okay, here comes baby number four.” The doctor called to the last waiting team. “Get ready.” The pressure was ten times as bad this time as it had been the first time and I cried out in fear as my screaming child was pulled from my body.

“Well, look what we have here,” the doctor said and I froze, scared that something was wrong with my baby.

Wroth stood, even though he’d been told repeatedly to keep on the other side of the tent. When he turned pale I thought it was because something terrible was wrong with our son. One moment he was standing there, his eyes looking almost tortured as he gazed over the tent, and the next he was on the floor, his head bouncing off the chair he’d just been sitting in.

“Wroth!” I screamed just as I heard the doctor give an exasperated sigh. I started to cry. “What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with my son?” I demanded. It had to be something bad, why else would Wroth have passed out?

“Nothing,” the doctor assured me as a nurse appeared beside my bed and bent to wave something under Wroth’s nose. “Except for the lack of a penis, that is. You have a daughter, Marissa. But I’m not so sure that’s why your husband passed out. Probably all the gore on this side of the tent.” He chuckled and stepped around the tent to show me the screaming, squirming, very angry little girl in his hands. “Say hello to your momma, little princess.”

If I hadn’t seen the evidence, or rather the lack of evidence, that I really did have a daughter, I wouldn’t have believed the doctor. For months now I’d been told repeatedly that I was carrying four boys, two of which were identical. There had been no sign of a girl anywhere. But here she was and as I gazed at her through my tears, I could honestly say that I had never seen a more beautiful baby girl in my life.

From the floor, Wroth groaned and slowly climbed to his feet, holding a bandage to his forehead the nurse had given him. “He’s going to need a few stitches,” the nurse informed the doctor.

“I’ll take care of it myself as soon as I finish with his wife,” the doctor assured her, sending Wroth a smirk. “Welcome back, Wroth. Did you notice you have a daughter?”

Wroth’s gray face turned ever grayer. “A daughter?” he croaked. His gaze went to our little girl, still screaming at the world angrily and tears fell from his eyes instantly. “She’s beautiful.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Oh, shit. Shit. I gotta buy a gun.”

I turned startled eyes on my husband. His swearing was proof enough that he was upset, but his talk of buying a gun didn’t make any sense to me. “What do you mean you have to buy a gun?” I practically screamed. I didn’t like guns, and sure as hell didn’t want them in our house.

“I have a daughter. I gotta buy a gun, Mari. She’s gonna look like you and there will be all kinds of little pricks trying to get into her pants.” He stood on shaky legs, only to fall back into his chair. “My head is killing me.”

“You probably have a concussion,” my doctor informed him calmly. “Sit there and take it easy while we take care of your wife and babies. Then I’ll get you stitched up.”

“Baby one is perfect,” a doctor proclaimed and a nurse appeared by my head with my son wrapped in a blue blanket. “What are we calling this one, momma?”

“Jackson Wroth,” I told her, lifting my hand to rub it across the softness of my firstborn’s cheek. “Hi there, Jack.”

Wroth leaned forward and kissed my lips then the top of our son’s head. “Welcome to the outside, son.”

Babies two and three were proclaimed perfect as well and were the identical twins. Both were brought over at the same time and I rubbed a finger over their cheeks as well. “Bryant Anthony and Liam James,” I gave them each their names, naming them after the men who held such big places in our hearts. We’d decided to hold onto my last name by giving it to one of our sons, and Anthony was Axton’s real name. It was only fitting that the man who had become as close to me as my own brother be linked to my child. Liam, who was still doing so well with his sobriety, was a part of our everyday life too. But it had been Wroth who had suggested one of our boys be named after him, adding his own father’s name in to complete it.

“Well, this little girl is very angry but healthy,” one of the pediatricians announced as he brought over my daughter. He started to hand her over to Wroth, but saw how shaky he still was and leaned her close so that he could kiss her instead. “Do we have a name for this little princess yet?”

I glanced from Wroth to our daughter, not sure what we were going to do. We hadn’t had to think about girl’s names, and none were coming to mind except for one.

“Can we call her Dorothy?” I asked Wroth.

His eyes widened and he grinned down at me. “Yeah, sweetheart. Dorothy is perfect.”

“Dorothy Elizabeth?” I said the name as a question, but it felt right on my tongue and I grinned up at Wroth.

There had been times in my life when I would look at this man and think that this was the happiest day of my life. The first time he told me he loved me. The day we got married. When we found out we were pregnant… But it was now, right at this moment, that I knew I’d never been more happy in my life. And all because of the man sitting right beside me.

“Then. Now. Forever,” I whispered.

“I love you, too.” He kissed my lips, still holding the bandage to his bleeding head. “Then. Now. Forever.”