Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(96)

I kiss her on the lips, one that nearly pulls her to my body, but I break it before she shifts out of place too much. My mind is spinning as the doctor says something to Lil, and then the nurses flock her sides. I focus mostly on Lily, holding her hand as I stand by her side. About two hours pass with Lily pushing, her cheeks splotched red from fatigue.

“One more,” the doctor instructs.

Lily’s brows scrunch as she tries again, not giving up. Time seems immeasurable. Too fast. Too slow. “Good job, Lil,” I tell her as she finishes another push.

Dr. Dhar says, “Last one.”

Lily collapses back in exhaustion and stares up at me like she just said that, didn’t she? Fear floods her eyes, and I kiss her head and my lips brush her ear. “You’re almost done, love. Everything’s fine.”

“Okay,” she says in a shaky voice. Her hand tightens around mine. And she closes her eyes to try to push again. She pants, out of breath, after that one.

The female doctor focuses on the monitors. “The baby’s heart rate is a little low.”

I turn back to Lily, and her eyes flutter like they’re about to close. “Lil?” I cup her face; she’s in a cold sweat. “Lily?”

The second nurse runs to the nearest machine and she places an oxygen mask over Lily’s nose and mouth.

I comb back her hair. “Hey, Lil, look at me, love.” My eyes are on fire, and for a split second, the fear of losing her takes me for a ride. I can’t…

It’s a pain that tears right through me. It stretches. I swallow a rock. Look at me. Please. And as she takes a few deep breaths of oxygen, her eyes meet mine again and she gives me a nod.

Okay.

“Lily, one last push,” Dr. Dhar coaches. “I know you’re tired, but we all want this baby out.”

Lily looks like she’s about to cry. I hover over her, and tilt her chin so she meets my gaze again. “This is easier than every battle you’ve been through.” I wipe the tears off her cheeks.

“One more time?” she asks like a question, even though she’s trying to boost her spirits.

“Yeah, Lil. One more.”

She inhales the oxygen and then shuts her eyes tight as she pushes. I clench my teeth, my jaw hurting the longer this goes on. Please let this be it.

And then, the next sound just floors me.

A cry.

Dr. Dhar has the baby in her hands.

I’m not the kind of guy anyone wants to see give life. Nasty, harsh, spiteful—a bastard. But I’m employing my brother’s motto for this one: I don’t give a shit.

I don’t give a shit.

Maybe some people don’t deserve second chances. But I’m worthy of this moment and this girl and this life I live and the one I created.

No one can tell me otherwise. Because the minute they place our baby on Lily’s chest is the minute that I feel a piece of me that I’d been keeping submerged. She’s already in tears, joy erupting through her features. And I feel all of it course inside. I’d been unwilling to let myself experience this. I’ve been filling the hollow places with pain, and I’m done.

I’m done with that torture.

One nurse dries the baby off and keeps a warm towel on him. And the other removes Lily’s oxygen mask. “Lo,” she chokes into a laugh, her chin trembling as tears cascade. I realize my cheeks are wet.

I lean closer to her, feeling lighter than I ever have before.

He’s tiny, his eyes pinched like the light is too harsh for him. But he squirms a bit and lets out a couple high-pitched noises, not cries exactly. Just saying he’s here.

After about fifteen minutes, the world feels calmer, people start slowing down. He’s swaddled in a blanket and content. “Will you hold him?” Lily asks me like she’s wondering if I won’t.

I don’t hesitate. I lift him gently in my arms. God, I can’t get over how small he is.

“What do you think?” she asks.

I realize I haven’t said a single word. And I break into a smile, my eyes glassy. “He looks powerful.”

Even through her exhaustion, she beams like she’s risen a million feet. “Like a superhero?”

I nod a couple times and brush my finger over his soft cheek. He responds with a mumble of acceptance. I never thought I could love someone the way that I love Lily, but my world has just expanded, plus one.

I whisper softly, “Definitely like a superhero.”





{ 35 }

LILY CALLOWAY



For the past week, we’ve been camping out in Maximoff’s superhero-themed nursery on the long blue couch. I may be biased, but the city painted on the wall, the X-Men blanket, and Thor’s hammer mobile beats Jane’s pink princess room any day.

This afternoon, we’ve been watching FX’s X-Men marathon on our bed with Maximoff between us, and he’s been sleeping well past his usual nap time. “Is he alive?” I whisper to Lo. We both sort of hover over him, watching him sleep more than we’ve been watching the films.

Paranoid, yes. We’ve been reading too many pamphlets about Sudden Infant Death syndrome. Which can be caused by what feels like anything. The baby can’t sleep on his tummy. He can’t be wrapped too tightly in a blanket. One wrong move and bam! Baby down.

I have this dark, horrific image of waking up and finding Maximoff blue and…yeah.