With my hand cupping the back of her head, I kiss her slowly, not wanting to break contact just yet. I kiss her as I grow soft inside her, and when I carry her to bed, it’s not long before she’s asleep. Pressing my chest against her back, I rest my hand on her stomach and close my eyes. It’s not until the next afternoon that she lets out a pained groan and shoots me a look that instantly has me on high alert and closing the short distance between us.
“Valeri,” she moans, gripping my hand and closing her eyes as the pain washes over her.
“It’s okay, baby.” I rest my hand on her belly, surprised at how firm it feels, like her whole body is cramped up. My heart races, and truth be told, I’m scared to death, but no way in fuck am I going to show it. She grits her teeth when another pain hits her, and seeing her like this and knowing I can’t do a goddamn thing to take it from her is killing me.
As soon as the pain passes, I help her sit down and then run upstairs, taking them two at a time and bursting into our bedroom to grab the bag that’s been packed and ready for days. I send a quick text to my brothers, letting them know it’s time as I run back downstairs. Evie’s wide eyes land on mine as soon as I rush back into the living room.
“I’m scared,” she whispers, stroking her belly and looking so damn small and frightened.
I kneel down and place one hand on her belly and cup her face with the other. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, baby, and I’m so damn proud of you. You’re going to do great, and we’re going to meet our son very soon.”
She smiles at the mention of Aleksandr and clutches my hand. “Okay, let’s do this.”
“That’s my girl.” I lean closer and kiss her belly, telling our son in Russian that I love him and can’t wait to meet him and to go easy on his mommy. Slinging the bag’s strap across my chest, I carefully lift my wife and carry her to the car. I give the guards a nod as we leave and then I use all my restraint to not speed down the road at a hundred miles per hour, especially when she digs her fingers into my thigh and lets out another pained moan.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” I tell her.
She surprises me with a laugh. “I’m not really doing anything, just sort of taking it.”
“Well, you’re taking it so damn good, baby,” I tell her, making her laugh again.
The drive to the hospital feels like it takes forever, but finally I’m carrying her inside and putting her in the wheelchair a nurse rushes out to us with. I must look as terrified as I feel because she smiles at us and says, “Everything’s going to be fine. Let’s get you up to the fifth floor and into a room.”
Evie gives her a weak nod, and I try not to worry about how pale her face looks. I’m so used to seeing her blushing, and the lack of color feels wrong. We take the elevator, and after a nerve-racking few minutes of being forced to fill out the damn paperwork, I’m finally standing next to the bed as the doctor examines her.
“You’re almost fully dilated, Evie,” Dr. Ferguson says, her blonde head buried between my wife’s legs as she checks her cervix.
“What about an epidural?” I ask when Evie clutches my hand again and lets out a pained moan that cuts me to the quick.
“We can do one now if your wife wants.”
I brush a sweaty strand of hair from Evie’s pale face. “Do you want one, baby?”
“Fuck yes,” she whispers, making me laugh. I look over at the doctor. “She says yes please.”
“I think the answer she gave was the more accurate one,” Dr. Ferguson says with a smile. “I’ll send someone in to do it right away and then we get to meet your son.”
I lean down to kiss my wife. “I’m so proud of you,” I tell her, giving her another ice chip.
She gives me a weak smile and runs her finger over my cheek. “I really hope he has your dimple.”
I smile and kiss her again. “We’re about to find out.”
The epidural has me more nervous than I think I’ve ever been. I’ve been shot, stabbed, and sliced more times than I can remember, but seeing that young fucker insert a giant needle into my wife’s back puts all that to shame. My wife’s got fucking balls of steel. She gets through it like a champ and when it takes effect, I see her face visibly relax.
“Wow, that’s so much nicer.”
I kiss her forehead and help her lay back in bed, and when Dr. Ferguson walks in, my heart starts racing. The nurse checks Evie’s vitals and makes sure everything is as it should be and then stands by the doctor, ready to hand her things as needed. Evie’s feet are put into the stirrups and her gown is pushed up, revealing the stomach that’s rock hard as another contraction hits her. The epidural’s taken the edge off, though, so it’s not near as bad as it was.
“Okay, Evie, when I tell you to push, I want you to bear down and push as hard as you can,” Dr. Ferguson tells her as she scoots her stool up closer and angles the light where she wants it.
Evie nods and gives me a smile that’s equal parts terrified and excited. I bring my face close to hers and squeeze her hand when the doctor says to push. Evie’s face scrunches in pain and pure determination as she starts to push our son into the world.
“You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so fucking proud of you,” I tell her, kissing her forehead and watching her go through so much pain for our family.
The next several minutes are a mix of pushing and stopping, and when I start to worry about her being too tired, Dr. Ferguson finally says, “His head’s out. Do you want to see your son, Valeri?”
I met Evie’s eyes and kiss her again before walking to the end of the bed. I’m so stunned by what I see that my English and Russian fail me, and all I can do is gawk. Our son’s little head is out, and at first all I see is a wet mop of dark hair, but then the doctor angles him as his shoulders slip out, and I get my first view of his face.
