Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(183)

When I hit my ninth month of pregnancy, I was done with it. I was huge. I was exhausted. My feet were swollen. My back ached. I could not find a comfortable sleeping position to save my life. And my amped-up sex drive had sizzled away to nothing. I wanted this child out of my body.

Kellan did everything he could to appease me. He drove a half an hour away just to get me one specific kind of ice cream. He gave me back massages every night. He even tried to give me a pedicure, which made me laugh so hard that my feet were shaking and the bright red nail polish ended up smeared all over my toes and his hands. It was sweet, though.

Just when I accepted the fact that I was going to be pregnant forever, I started having contractions. I immediately wrote down when they happened and how long they lasted. Kellan noticed me scribbling in one of his lyric journals and rested his head on my shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”

Staring at a stop watch, I counted the seconds as I breathed through the pain. “I’m logging my contractions.”

“You’re what?” Kellan turned me to face him; his eyes were wide and panicked. “Is it time? Should I take you to the hospital now? I’ll start the car. And I’ll get your bag. Shoot, I need to put the car seat in.”

He took off before I could answer a single one of his questions. “Kellan! It’s . . . still early.” My contractions were mild and still really far apart. Even I knew we had plenty of time.

He was a flurry of activity, though, so I didn’t bother explaining that to him. I simply sat on the couch and waited to log my next contraction. Kellan dashed around the house grabbing things he thought we needed and muttering to himself about things he was sure he was forgetting. “Kiera, will we need diapers? I’m grabbing diapers. We should bring diapers.”

Over my shoulder I yelled out, “Kellan! I’m sure the hospital will have some.” He didn’t respond to me, and I was sure the trunk of the Chevelle was going to be loaded with enough diapers to cover the bottoms of half the children in Seattle.

I glanced over at my mom, calmly sitting beside me. Not wanting to miss another grandbaby’s birth, she had flown to Seattle pre–due date. Dad was going to join her once the baby was here. “He’s a wreck,” I said.

Laughing, my mom patted my knee. “They all are the first time.”

Even though I was nowhere near giving birth, twenty minutes later I was stuffed into the Chevelle and Kellan raced me to the nearest hospital. Glancing at his speedometer, I firmly told him, “Slow down. We have plenty of time.”

Kellan flicked me nervous glances. “Are you sure? How do you know? Maybe you’re just having a really mild labor. Maybe this is as bad as it will get for you.”

Amused, my mother started chuckling in the backseat. I did not find that comforting.

Hours later, I could have killed my husband, I could have killed my mother, and I could have killed the manufacturer of the mislabeled birth control pills. I was going to die, I was positive. I’d never felt something so painful in all my life. But then, some angelic nurse in cloud-covered scrubs gave me drugs . . . and things were much, much better.

It was still horribly uncomfortable, and hard. I’d never really thought about how difficult the act of giving birth was. You would think, since it happens all the time, it would be a much more seamless process. I mean, you don’t see cats and dogs screaming, grunting, and writhing in pain. I’ve watched videos of whales giving birth before, and I swear those creatures didn’t even notice they were delivering. And let me tell you, even partially numb from the waist down, I noticed.

Holding my hand, Kellan helped me as best he could. I could tell he felt completely useless and wished he could do more. He’d probably offer to give birth for me if he could. “You’re doing great, sweetheart, almost there.”

The doctor told me one more push should do it, and I nearly cried. I just wanted to be done. I hated this. I would rather be hit by another truck than ever do this again. Mom squeezed my other hand. “You can do this,” she told me.

I knew I could too, and I gave it my all. The relief was nearly instant, and I knew I was done even before I heard the baby start to cry. Tears rolling down his cheeks, Kellan kissed my sweaty head. “You’re amazing,” he whispered.

Closing my eyes, I managed a small, thankful smile.

The nurse’s perky voice stirred me from my stupor. “Congratulations! It’s a boy!”

I heard my mom start to cry as I flashed open my eyes and stared up at Kellan. A boy? We’d had a boy. Kellan’s gaze was fixed on the small bundle in the nurse’s arms. His expression was a combination of awe and joy. “I have a son?” A shimmering tear fell off his cheek and landed on my shoulder.

No, I was wrong, I would do this a thousand more times to see that look on his face. Well, at least two or three more times.

The nurse nodded as she came toward me with my son. I was dying to see him, hold him, but I minutely shook my head at her and flicked a glance at Kellan. Understanding, she handed the baby to him. Kellan had been through so much crap in his life, he deserved to be the first one to hold his child.

Making a sound that was both a laugh and a sob, Kellan stared into his son’s eyes. “Hey, little man,” he whispered. “I’m your dad, and I love you . . . so much.” Voice quavering, he added, “I’m so glad you’re here.”