Brave Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #3)(64)

“Wh-what do we do?” he asks, his words hushed, his eyes full of fear.

“Let’s go back into the house. We can do this. Right?” When the color leaves his face, I prompt, “Right?”

“Yes. Yes!” he replies, his second response more certain that the first. He sets Willow on her feet. “Walk behind us, cricket. I’m gonna carry Momma.”

That’s the only warning I get before he sweeps me off my feet and walks briskly back to the house. He takes the front steps two at a time, pausing to look back for Willow, who is running as fast as her little legs will carry her. Tag starts toward the stairs, but I stop him.

“Maybe we should do this in the living room, near the kitchen. Just in case we need things from there.”

He changes his direction, taking me to the couch and depositing me gently on the cushions. When he straightens, he takes his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling 911.”

“Okay,” I say, breathing through pursed lips as another contraction squeezes my uterus. “Oh God! Call your mom, too. Maybe she’ll know what to do.”

He tells the 911 operator what’s going on and where we’re located, then hangs up and dials his mom, who is only a few dozen yards away at her house. “Mom, Weatherly’s in labor. We can’t make it down the mountain. Can you help?”

Her response must’ve been short because Tag hangs up within seconds. My contraction has eased and my brain is working a little more clearly.

“We’ll need towels and boiling water,” I tell him. “At least that’s what they always need in the movies. Maybe you should Google midwifery,” I suggest.

So he does. He’s still spouting off all sorts of facts when Stella arrives. She’s cool and collected and takes charge immediately.

A sense of hopefulness and peace settles over me and I think that, if the paramedics don’t get here in time, my child and I will be in good hands.

—

I never imagined I’d be here, that I’d be lying in a hospital bed after having delivered my baby at home with the help of my husband and my mother-in-law. Yet here I am. Tag is in the rocking chair in the corner, rocking our son, Jenner, as he sleeps. He’s humming quietly, a look of perfect happiness on his handsome face. All I can see from the bundle in his arms is the one chubby hand that still holds his father’s finger. He went to sleep clutching it. As long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever forget this picture.

Stella took Willow with her to meet my parents at the hotel so they can rest. It’s been a stressful couple of days and none of us have had much sleep. I started bleeding uncontrollably after Jenner was born. I’d lost an alarming amount of blood by the time the paramedics arrived. They rushed me here, where I underwent emergency surgery to remove some parts of the placenta that weren’t delivered properly. That’s what led to the postpartum hemorrhage. I must’ve scared the life out of Tag. He hasn’t left my side. Asleep or awake, evidently he’s been with me from the moment I went into labor until right this minute. I can tell that he’s tired, and that he’s in desperate need of a shave, but otherwise, he looks like the happiest father in the world.

As though he can sense my eyes on him, my thoughts on him, he lifts his head and captures my gaze with his own. We stare at each other for countless seconds until he gets up and walks to the bedside.

He bends to press his lips to my forehead, still cradling the sleeping Jenner. “You’re my life. You know that, right?”

I nod, emotion clogging my throat like cars on a congested interstate.

“Thank you for marrying me. And forgiving me. And for the gift of our children,” he says softly. “But most of all for your love. You’re making me the man I’ve always wanted to be.”

“You’ve been that man all along. I saw him from the start.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I love you too much.”

“You could never love me too much. It’s impossible.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I couldn’t be me without you.”

“It’s only fair. I know I wouldn’t be me without you. When you started bleeding,” he says, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with tears. “Shit! I just . . . I couldn’t . . . There was nothing I could do except hold your hand. And it was so cold . . .”

Tag drops his head to my chest, right over my heart, and I run my fingers into his silky hair.

“I’m not going anywhere. And next time, we’ll stay in Atlanta.”

He raises his head and locks his shining eyes onto mine. “Next time? You mean this didn’t scare you out of having more?”

I shake my head confidently. “No. These are little miracles of our love. I’d have a dozen of them if I could.”

His smile is happy again. Excited, even. “Well, you know, we could start working on that. I mean, I am your husband and I guess it’s my duty to . . . you know.”

“Yeah, I guess you’ll just have to suffer through . . . you know,” I say with a grin. Nothing seems to impair our sex life. It’s even more amazing now than it was in the beginning. And it was pretty damn amazing then.

“I love you, Weatherly Barton.”

“And I love you, Tag Barton.”