Don't Let Go(65)

When we entered, all heads turned to us. Linny’s eyes were red, as were Noah’s, but the glazed-over look was gone. He was nothing but exposed emotion. He looked like me a couple of nights prior.
Johnny Mack’s expression changed slightly, from gleeful to cautious.
“What are they doing here?” he asked. Not as mean as before, I noticed. Just a question.
Noah shook his head. “No—Jules should be—” He looked at Shayna with immense gratitude. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Her eyes watered, and my stomach knotted at the clear intimacy between them. I didn’t want to see that. I didn’t want to be around him or them or any of this.
“I have no idea,” I said, letting go of Ruthie and crossing my arms over myself. “Why are we here?”
Just then, the door from the bathroom opened, and another younger man stepped out. All eyes went from us to him, and he looked around a little nervously under the weight of the attention. He had a polite smile, if slightly standoffish. His dark hair was cropped short, his eyes were dark blue, and when they landed on me my heart slammed against my ribs.
“Sweet Jesus,” I whispered.
I’d know him anywhere. Even though I’d only seen him in pictures the day before yesterday, and in person when he was only minutes old.
Noah’s hand was on my back, pulling me with him.
“Jules, meet—”
“Seth,” I finished with him, the sound barely registering in the room.

? ? ?

The cry came at the end of my own, and it was like something out of a movie. My wail of pain and release that melded with the angry scream of something pulled from comfort into bright light and cold.
It was beautiful. It was horrible. It was over.
“It’s a boy.”
The doctor’s voice was remote, as if he already knew this wasn’t your normal happy delivery. There were no congratulations. Through a haze of pain I started to panic. To second-guess. What had I done?
“Wait—” I breathed, but no one heard me in the ruckus.
“It’s a boy!” Noah yelled, fist-pumping the air. “Yes!”
He was crying and laughing at the same time, kissing me, standing up to stare in awe at the creation I hadn’t seen yet, and then kissing me again.
“A boy,” I echoed, my voice scratchy and raw from the screaming. I tried to sit up or move to see him but my body wouldn’t work. Damn epidural. I felt the burn of tears at the back of my throat as the frustration began to seep through my skin.
“You did it, baby,” Noah said, over and over. “You did it.” He laughed again. “Nearly broke my damn hand but you did it. He’s beautiful.”
“He’s—” My voice broke and I squeezed his hand as hard as I could to get his attention. My baby’s cries were ripping at my insides. “Noah, I need to see him.”
“You will, Mommy,” he said, his blue eyes dancing with so much love it broke my heart. He moved the sweaty hair from where it stuck to my forehead. “Be patient, they’re doing their thing.” He kept looking over to the table. “God, he’s amazing.”
“We’re cleaning him up,” said a nurse to my right.
I reached for her with my other hand and gripped her arm as if it were the only thing holding my sanity together. “Please,” I said, begging her with my eyes. “Please.” My voice cracked and fresh hot tears burned tracks down my cheeks.
The woman’s eyes went soft. Compassionate. Oh, God, she was going to help me. She patted my hand and placed it back on the rail as she nodded. I watched her face as Noah rambled in my ear about names and baseball and bicycles, lifting my head with great effort to watch her speak to the other nurse and doctor tending to my little boy.
Impatience lined the doctor’s face around the mask as he turned back to look at me, but my angel nurse put a hand on his arm and said something else. Whatever it was made his expression relax, and my heart jumped as he nodded.
Noah’s voice brought me back to him as he wiped my tears. “Don’t cry, love, the hard part is over. We’ve got this.”
We’ve got this. I met his eyes. They were so happy. So intent on making this happen. On being a family. “Noah—I’m—” I couldn’t finish. My hot tears built to sobs that shook me from head to toe, and I had to look away from him.
“Jules, what’s wrong—look, here he comes!”
The angel nurse appeared at my right, holding a bundle of screaming redness wrapped in a blue blanket. Her badge said her name was Courtney. And Courtney had tears in her eyes.
“I have to hold him,” she said. “But you can look.”
I’d always thought newborn photos were hideous. They always looked like little alien creatures, and I never understood why anyone ever thought those babies were attractive.
Mine was beautiful. He had a head full of dark hair and his face was all scrunched up, mouth trembling, bare little gums gleaming in the light. He was the most gorgeous alien I’d ever seen. I was in love. I lifted a hand and ran my fingers tentatively along his cheek, on skin so velvety I almost couldn’t feel it. “Oh, my God,” I whispered. “My baby.”
I was in love with my little boy. And my heart stuttered in my chest.
“I can’t—” I gasped. “I can’t do this.”
Noah didn’t hear me. He was crying and kissing my hand. “I love you, Jules,” he said, his voice shaking. “I love our new family. God, he’s so—”
My mother’s voice resonated outside the door, breaking through my baby’s cries. The door opened then, and she was there, loose untied scrubs hanging on her and a mask held to her face.