Tossed Into Love (Fluke My Life 3)

“We’ll make it to the hospital faster than an ambulance can get here, Princess,” I tell her, smoothing her hair away from her damp forehead.

She shakes her head.

“No, he’s coming. I can feel him.”

“You can feel him . . . ,” I repeat as my stomach sinks.

“Yes!” she cries as she tucks her face back into the couch, her body arching awkwardly.

Seeing the amount of pain she’s in, I quickly call 911. I hang up when they tell me they are on the way.

“Antonio, he’s coming!”

“It’s going to be okay, Princess.” I pull her pants down over her hips and almost pass out when I see the crown of my son’s head. “Fuck.” I rush to the bathroom and grab some towels, then go back to her and help her move to her back.

“Daddy . . . ?” Esmeralda’s worry-filled voice fills the otherwise-silent room.

I look at our girl, who’s standing in the hall.

“It’s okay, baby. I need you to get me a bowl of warm water,” I tell her.

She runs to the kitchen.

“I’m so scared, Antonio,” Libby whispers.

My eyes lock with hers.

“It’s going to be okay,” I assure her, tucking some towels under her bottom. “An ambulance is on the way.”

I know they won’t make it in time—our boy is almost here. “Push if you feel like you need to push,” I encourage as she pants.

Seeing her nod, I pray that I can remember everything I learned in training.

“Oh god.” She curls around her stomach.

I hold her legs open and feel my heart thunder against my rib cage as our son’s head appears.

“The baby is crowning,” I say to her.

When Esmeralda comes back with a bowl of water, I take it. “Go wait by the door, baby. An ambulance will be here soon. When they get here, just let them in.”

“Is Mommy okay?” she asks.

“I’m okay, honey.” Libby gives her a tight smile, then closes her eyes as another contraction rips through her. A long groan comes out of her.

“Go, baby.”

“Okay,” Esmeralda whispers before running off to the front door.

“I need to push again,” Libby whimpers in pain. “It’s coming, Antonio,” she says to me, fear filling her eyes.

“It’s okay, Princess. Push. You’re doing so good.” I rub her thigh. Looking down between her legs, I see our son’s head coming out a bit more.

“I’m so scared,” she says, panting.

“I know, baby. But I promise it’s going to be okay.” I try to keep my voice calm, but my body is almost shaking in fear. “I need you to bear down. You can do it.”

“Okay.” Her eyes close tight as she curls herself around her stomach once more. I wrap my hands around our son’s head and let out a sigh of relief when his shoulders slide out, then the rest of his body. I quickly wrap him in a clean dry towel and settle him against her chest. The sound of his wails now fills the room as my wife holds him.

“He’s so beautiful.” She looks at me, quietly sobbing.

“They’re here!” Esmeralda yells from the front door.

I look at my wife and see her eyes on our son.

“They’re here!” Esmeralda runs into the room, followed by two paramedics.

“Good job, baby,” I tell her.

She smiles at me before going to her mom and resting her head next to her brother’s on Libby’s chest. Libby opens up her arms so she can hold our children together.

Seeing my family all together—healthy, alive, and breathing—I know that everything will be okay.

Years later

MISS INA

“Grandma Ina, can you tell me a story?” Olivia, Fawn and Levi’s daughter, asks as she comes over to sit next to me on the couch.

I smile down at the sweet girl. I tried to tell all the children’s mothers that I didn’t want to be called Grandma Ina, but like always, they ignored me. I will never admit it to anyone, but I do love it. Especially since I don’t have grandchildren of my own to spoil.

“What story would you like me to tell you, dear?”

“The one about Mommy and Daddy.”

“Oh, I want to hear the story of my mommy and daddy,” Esmeralda says excitedly, coming over to take a seat next to her cousin.

“I don’t want to hear about my mom and dad. I already have to see them kissing and stuff. It’s so gross,” Dustin, Mackenzie and Wesley’s son, says, making a face that has my lips twitching.

Still, he doesn’t leave—he even gets a little closer when I start.

Quietly, I tell them the stories of how each of their parents found love, then end softly with what I say every time they ask to hear the story: “Whether you run into it, stumble into it, or get tossed into it, love has a way of finding you.”

“I hope love finds me one day. I want to marry a prince,” Olivia says with a dreamy sigh.