Finding My Forever (Beaumont 3)

“She’s going to be gorgeous like her mum,” he says, kissing me on the lips. “One more push, Sweet Lips, and you’ll get to hold her.”

I nod and bear down again. I scream, hoping that the exertion will move her along. I cry when the pressure releases and fall back against my bed. Jimmy stands there looking at the doctor as he’s handed a pair of scissors. Wailing starts immediately and while I should be concerned that he’s cut our child, I’m not. I’m falling in love with someone I haven’t even seen yet.

Little One is set on my chest while the nursing staff and doctors finish up with me. Jimmy sits down beside us. He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips.

“I’m afraid to touch her,” I say.

“I know, me too. We might break her.”

Little One opens her eyes briefly before closing them again.

“You should hold her,” the nurse says.

I run my finger down her nose and over her cheek. She reacts by moving her head to where my finger is going. I try not to giggle, but I can’t help it.

“She’s fucking beautiful, Jenna. Thank you so much.” Jimmy stands and kisses me before kissing Little One.

“She is, isn’t she?”

The nurse takes her from us to run all the necessary tests to make sure she’s okay. To me, she looks perfect, but I’m her mom; I’m going to be biased.

I hold Jimmy against my chest, my tears wetting his hair. “I’m sorry for being so mean.”

He shakes his head and pulls away. His eyes are filled with tears, and one is definitely bruised giving him the bad boy vibe. “I love you so much, Jenna. As long as you never tell me to leave you, I don’t care what you say to me.”

I’M left in the “Pepto” room (as Jenna calls it) with just a few nurses, while another one takes Jenna to the bathroom. I watch them as they weigh and measure Little One, whose arms are waving around like crazy. She looks like a little boxer and has a set of windpipes that can go on for days. I’m not sure how on earth I’m going to get used to this crying. It just means I’ll have to find a way to appease her. To make her happy because hearing her scream her little lungs off like this makes me want to take her in my arms and hold her tightly so I can take away her worries. Worries that she shouldn’t have because her daddy is going to make everything better.

Daddy.

Daddy.

The word falls off my tongue like it’s a foreign word. Even though I’ve said it many times when Jenna was pregnant it didn’t have the meaning that it has now. I’m her daddy. I’m going to be the person she’ll go to until some bloke comes along and tries to take my place. I’m responsible for this little creature and will be until she tells me that she’s old enough to take care of herself. I can never see that happening. I’m going to make sure she always needs her daddy.

Jenna comes out of the bathroom looking as beautiful as ever. Her smile lights up her face and makes her eyes sparkle. She just accomplished a feat so glorious I’m not sure I can love her anymore. She brought my daughter — our daughter — into this world and has made our family complete.

The nurse guides her to the bed, and helps her get comfortable. How Jenna can walk after giving birth astounds me — she is frikking amazing. After what I just witnessed her body go through, I’d be bloody knackered. I’d probably want to curl up in a ball and beg for my mum to come in and make it all go away. I can admit I’m chicken shit when it comes to pain. That thought alone makes me grateful that I don’t remember being shot. I’ve experienced enough of the horror story from Liam and Harrison to know it was a fucking nightmare. I’m perfectly fine remaining ignorant and not remembering all the pain I was in.

I don’t know what to do. Go to Jenna or continue to watch the nurses fuss over Little One? They’re gushing — as they should be — at how beautiful she is. She looks like Jenna, but with dark hair. Not gonna lie, I was hoping she’d have dark red hair, a mixture of mine and Jenna’s, but I’ll take her just the way she is because she’s ours.

Little One is wrapped up in a blanket and carried to Jenna. The nurse bypasses me as if I’m not even in the room. I get that she’s the mother, but what am I? Do women really just consider the man the “demon sperm donor” and nothing else?

I follow the nurse like a lost puppy dog as she hands Little One to Jenna. She’s sitting up, smiling. When I look at her, I see nothing but pure elation. It dawns on me that she was going to have Little One whether I was in the picture or not. I should feel good about that, but a part of me wonders where I’d be right now if I wasn’t here. Nowhere, that’s where. I’d be lost and still trudging through mud trying to find a purpose in life. I’d be half the man I am now and knowing that, I wouldn’t change what I’ve got now for anything.

Jenna looks at me after Little One is placed in her arms. The nurse leaves the room, giving us time to bond with our daughter. Jenna pats the side of her bed, beckoning me to sit next to her. I can’t deny her. I’ll never be able to deny her of anything she wants from me. I climb onto the bed slowly and with caution. I know she’s sore, but she’s not showing any signs of being in pain. It’s easy for me to remember how gentle she was with me when I was in a bed like this. Her touch was as light as a feather and she left me begging for more. I wanted to hold her then and I want to hold her now.

My arm rests on her shoulder allowing my fingers to touch the top of Little One’s head. She’s wearing an offensive pink hat – the sure-fire sign that she’s a girl – because all babies look the same; except my daughter is beauty personified. Jenna runs her finger along Little One’s cheek and she raises it in a little smile.

Jenna reaches up to her shoulder and unsnaps her gown. Her glorious boob appears magically and while I shouldn’t be turned on, I am. I know I’m going to hell thinking that my wife, who has just given birth, is ready for sex, but I can’t help it. I watch in awe as she brings Little One to her chest to feed her. We learned about this in Lamaze class and if I hadn’t just witnessed this moment I wouldn’t believe it. Little One knows exactly what to do.

“Amazing” I say quietly.

“She is, isn’t she?”

“Her mum is too.” I kiss Je

nna on the forehead as she feeds our daughter. Every so often she runs her finger over Little One’s cheek causing her to start sucking again.

“Does it hurt?”