Fake Empire(109)

I keep pacing. I don’t know what time she went into surgery. How long a C-section takes. I’m totally unprepared, and the only thing that’s keeping me from totally losing it is the hope that any minute someone will come tell me they’re both fine.

I walk in circles until I start to feel dizzy. Then I sit. Bounce my knee. Spin my wedding ring in circles. Press my palms to my eyes and try to pretend I’m anywhere else.

Vaguely, I’m aware of activity around me. By calling anyone, Asher apparently meant everyone. My father. Oliver. Josephine and Hanson—who is fully recovered from his health scare. Scarlett’s family huddles with mine, whispering. Probably about me. Wisely, none of them approach me.

An eternity passes before Dr. Summers appears. I stand as soon as I see him.

“Your wife is asking for you, Crew.”

Relief hits me so hard I feel like my knees are about to buckle. “She’s okay?” My voice cracks between the o and the kay.

Dr. Summers smiles and nods. “She’s okay. And you’ve got a healthy baby girl.”

A girl. I have a daughter. The thought feels foreign, even after months of knowing this was coming. “Can I see them?” My voice sounds like my throat is filled with rocks.

He nods. “Of course. Follow me.”

Dr. Summers leads me to a different room than before. Scarlett is lying down, with a blanketed bundle resting on her chest.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he says, then disappears.

Scarlett looks up as soon as I step inside the room. Her smile is wide and brilliant. “She has your eyes.”

I reach the bed and catch the first glimpse of my daughter’s face. She’s perfect. And Scarlett’s right. Her eyes are the same shade of blue as mine. The color I inherited from my mother.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen,” she tells me.

I turn my head so I can press my face against her hair, feeling my eyes burn for the first time in my adult life. “I was so scared. So fucking terrified, Red.”

“I’m okay,” she assures me. “We’re okay.”

I look back at the tiny human we created together. “Wow.”

“I know.” Scarlett echoes my awed tone. “Do you want to hold her?”

I swallow. “Yeah. I do.”

The fake baby from the birthing class felt nothing like the real thing. Scarlett passes me our daughter, and she’s tiny and perfect and real.

“We should have decided on names sooner.”

I smile wryly. “And ordered the crib, probably.”

Scarlett’s eyes widen. “Fuck.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I assure Scarlett. “She’ll have a bed.” I look at my daughter. “You’ll have a bed.”

“Wow,” Scarlett comments, staring at us. “You’re a total DILF. I mean, I figured you would be. But it’s different that it’s my kid too, you know?”

I snort a laugh, and it feels good. Expels the last swirls of anxiety.

“What about Elizabeth?” Scarlett asks.

I study the small, innocent face. That same tug from my wedding appears, wondering what my mom might have to say on a day like today. She would have known what to tell me when Scarlett was in surgery. I clear my throat. “Don’t feel like we have to—”

“I don’t.”

“Won’t your mom be offended?”

Scarlett scoffs, but then sobers. “I mean…it could be her middle name, I guess.”

“Elizabeth Josephine Kensington,” I say softly.

“Yeah.”

“I like it.”

“Me too,” Scarlett states.

“She’s here,” I tell her. “Your mom. Your dad too.”

“Really?”

“Asher called them along with my dad and Oliver. I was…well, I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. And we hadn’t talked about who we’d call and when.”

Scarlett nods. “You can see if they want to come meet Elizabeth.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” I’m reluctant to relinquish Elizabeth. Loathe to leave this room. But I hand her back to Scarlett and retrace my steps to the waiting room. They’re all still there. I wasn’t sure if they would be.

I clear my throat. “Uh, Dad? Hanson? Josephine? Do you—do you want to meet your granddaughter?”

All three of them look stunned. Maybe it’s just hitting them they’re grandparents. Maybe they didn’t expect this offer.

To my surprise, Hanson stands first. Josephine follows. My dad is the last to rise, but he does. I glance at Oliver. Go ahead, he mouths. Me and my dad trail after Scarlett’s parents down the hallway.

“We named her Elizabeth,” I tell him quietly, as we walk down the hallway. My father is often unpredictable. I don’t want his response to the revelation—positive or negative—to color the first meeting. “231,” I tell Josephine and Hanson when we near Scarlett’s room. They enter. I hear Josephine exclaiming. My father and I linger outside.

He squeezes my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Crew. Your mother would be too.”

Then he heads inside. I’m left standing in the hallway, crying for the second time today.