I reached out to him and he took my hands, hoisting me out of the seat, and positioning himself behind me. I waddled up the stairs with him supporting me from behind and I teared up as we made our way down the hallway. All of the family photos we’d spent hours sorting through had been framed and hung on both sides of the walls, including a couple of gorgeous pictures of Jennifer and Ezra. “When did you hang the pictures?”
“Yesterday,” he said.
I faced him. “Were you okay?”
He smiled, stroking my cheek. “Yeah, baby. I was okay. I didn’t know why you wanted them on the wall, but I see it now.”
I nodded. “They’re part of our family. Even if they’re not here physically, they’re part of our hearts.”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He kissed me gently. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Doom turned me back around and guided me into the nursery and I gasped. “Oh, honey, it’s perfect.”
The club had transformed the room into the cutest little biker’s bedroom anyone could imagine. Our ultrasound had revealed a very big boy, so we were ecstatic to plan for the next generation of bikers. A black crib sat against the wall with a painting of a vintage Harley-Davidson hanging above it. The changing table was fully stocked with diapers, wipes, powder, and cream, and they’d anchored the dresser to the wall so it wouldn’t fall. There was a glider in the corner with a baby leather cut, complete with Dogs logo on the back, all ready for the baby’s patch to be attached, and I just couldn’t contain my gratitude.
Wrapping my arms around my man, I burst into tears and hugged him tight. “Thank you. I love it. It’s perfect.”
He chuckled, stroking my back. “You’re welcome.”
As we stood in the middle of our child’s bedroom, I sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the miracles that had been lavished on me. I don’t know what I did to deserve them, but I would never take them for granted.
Lyric
Two months later…
“DOOM,” I MOANED, coming awake as pain sliced through my belly. I reached for his arm and squeezed. Hard. “Lincoln.”
He knifed up. “I’m awake. What’s wrong?”
“He’s coming.”
“He’s early.”
“I’ll let you have a conversation with your son when he’s old enough to understand words. For the moment, however, we should probably get to the hospit—aaah…” More pain radiated and I couldn’t breathe.
Doom slid off the mattress and turned on his lamp, then made his way to my side of the bed. “Okay, baby, you got this. Take some deep breaths. I’m going to get your bag and we’ll head out.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
Doom helped me sit up, and I gripped the edge of the bed as I attempted to do my breathing exercises.
“It’s not helping!” I growled.
“I know, Angel,” Doom commiserated, as he kneeled in front of me. “Lift.”
I lifted my feet and he helped me slide my feet into a pair of maternity sweatpants, then pulled them up my body. After zipping me into my hoodie, he lifted me off the bed and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Okay, baby, let’s get you in the car.”
We moved slowly down the stairs and into the garage where he gingerly loaded me into the Volvo and buckled me in. We stopped twice to wait out contractions and then I had another one while he was securing my seatbelt, so just getting ready to go took forever, but once Doom was finally in the driver seat, we headed out and I tried my best not to scream every time the pain made me feel like I might die.
Doom took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You got this, Angel.”
“No, I don’t actually think I do.”
Pulling up to the hospital, Doom helped me inside and a nurse was waiting with a wheelchair. “We’ll get you settled into a room, then you can fill out the paperwork,” she offered.
“What about the bag?” I asked.
