Released (Caged #3)(81)

Tria’s head flopped away from me. She sniffed, and then turned back with a more determined look on her face.

“It will all be okay,” she said. “It has to be.”

I could only agree with her.

The doctor poked at Tria’s stomach with a straight pin, and it took me a second to realize she couldn’t feel it. Thankfully, I realized it before I punched the dude.

“Okay, you might feel a little bit of tugging,” the surgeon told Tria, “but nothing should hurt. You make sure to speak up if you feel anything else, okay?”

“Okay.”

Tria’s voice sounded muted and half asleep. I squeezed her fingers gently as I glanced quickly between her face and the doctor’s working hands. Even when the red of her blood covered the pale skin of her bloated stomach, I couldn’t let myself think of it for what it was. Everything was happening too quickly, and all I could do was beg and beg silently to whoever might have been listening.

Please don’t let her die…please don’t let her die…

“Her uterus is very thin,” the doctor said quietly. “We’re just in time.”

Part of me wanted to ask him what he meant but decided I really didn’t want to know. Tria’s finger gripped mine, and when I turned my eyes to her, there were tears on her face.

“It’s all okay,” I whispered as I tried to smile. It probably didn’t end up looking very comforting.

“The baby…” Tria’s voice cracked and fresh tears flowed from her eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said again, and I looked back to see the red flow turn to a small hole. The doctor’s hand moved inside, and I felt my stomach try to revolt.

Don’t you f*cking dare!

I swallowed hard and looked back, prepared to force myself into remaining in the present with my wife, no matter what it all looked like.

Then I saw her.

Just a tiny blob covered in red at first, but as the doctor’s hand moved, her face turned upwards toward the light. Her eyes squeezed shut against the brightness, and her face scrunched up. She looked so much like Tria whenever she tried to eat the cheap vegetarian burgers, I almost laughed.

“Beautiful girl you have here,” the doctor said as he handed her to the nurse beside him. “Why don’t you give me a hand here, Liam?”

The next thing I knew, I had a tiny pair of scissors in my hand, and I was cutting the cord in between two little knots of thread. As soon as I did, her tiny mouth opened and she let out a wail.

“Fuck!” I cried. “Did I hurt her?”

“Not at all,” the doctor said. “She sounds good.”

“She’s okay?” Tria yelled out.

“She’s perfectly fine,” the nurse responded with a big smile. She brought the baby over to my wife and held her tiny head up close to Tria’s cheek. The nurse moved the little girl up and down, so that mom and daughter were cheek to cheek as Tria began to sob.

“She’s okay?” Tria asked again. Her eyes moved rapidly between me and the nurse holding our child. I could only nod since my tongue felt thick and was completely unwilling to move in any sort of controllable fashion.

“Your daughter looks great, Mrs. Teague. I’m just going to take her right over there and check her out, okay?”

Tria nodded, but she wouldn’t move her eyes from the baby. Actually, I wouldn’t either. She looked exactly like Tria, and when her little eyelids parted, there were deep brown orbs staring back at me.

“Let’s let the doctor take care of Tria for a moment,” the nurse said to me. “I could really use some help cleaning up your daughter a little. Could you help me with that?”

Her voice was kind of mesmerizing, as was my daughter’s face. I couldn’t quite figure out what her expression was—if she hated the bright lights or was just mad about being out in the cold, cruel world. She wasn’t happy, that was for sure.

The nurse wiped some of the gunk off her, checked her eyes, tickled her foot, and then handed me a soft little sponge to do the rest. Mentally, I counted fingers and toes and checked her out all over as I cleaned her off. The nurse wrapped her in a little blanket and then held her out to me.

My throat constricted as she was placed in my arms. I expected to feel uneasy about holding her for the first time, but I didn’t. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She was soft, warm, and stopped squirming as I cradled her against my chest.

While I held her, the nurse suctioned out her nose and she let out another tiny wail.

“My baby!” Tria called out.

“I got her!” I replied. “She’s okay! Pissed off, but okay.”

I heard myself laugh, but the sound seemed detached and distant. The nurse wiped her down once more with a soft little scrap of cloth, and I just stared at her face.

“She’s beautiful,” I said.

“She is,” the nurse replied. “One of the prettiest I’ve seen.”

Deep inside, I knew it was a line of bullshit she told every new father, but I didn’t care. I was completely sure it was the truth. She was the most beautiful baby in the world. Once she was cleaned off, there was no doubt about it in my mind.

“Is she okay?” Tria asked as I carried the tiny, wrapped up bundle over to her.

“She’s great,” I said. “Better than great. She got a ten on some scale, which is the best you can get, so she’s obviously awesome. Even the nurse said she was the best. She’ll probably get a full ride to whatever Ivy League school she wants.”