Gray’s pain eased enough for her to say, “Tina and I decided that she and Imogen would come to the hospital after the birth, but she will want you to let her know. Thank you, guys.”
Ciar was still frozen at her feet. He looked stunned. “Ciar,” she gently urged. “The car will be here.”
“I’m sorry, Gray. Christ. Did I do this?”
Her badass husband was near tears, and she just about melted then at how much she loved him. “Your penis is magical, babe,” Gray assured, patting his cheek. “Best you don’t let your ego inflate more than it has, or we won’t fit in the hospital room.”
“Right!” Her head spun as Ciar jumped to his feet, then lifted her in his arms and rushed to the entrance, amid clapping and whistles from the patrons.
The car ride wasn’t the funnest experience Gray had ever participated in. Her contractions—she’d finally admitted they were, in fact, contractions and not gas—were riding her hard.
“Ninety seconds,” Jonathan shouted, unnecessarily loud in the small car.
“Why do you keep barking out fucking numbers like an idiot?” Daniel complained.
“Mom told me to track Gray’s contractions and report in. Our dads would kick my ass if I disappointed the Holy Trinity,” Jonathan quipped.
In between contractions, Gray was able to snort her amusement. Sometimes, the Byrne sisters were referred to as the Holy Trinity. Never out of disrespect to the Church, but in reference to how the O’Faolain men worshipped the sisters.
Well, not Rowan anymore. “Damn it,” Gray whispered. Now wasn’t the time to think of Hugh O’Faolain’s passing.
Gray kissed Ciar, who was holding her across his lap and looking close to tears. “I love you, Ciar. Your son clearly set a different due date for himself. Stop worrying.”
His response was to clench his jaw and use the shirt at his shoulder to pat aggressively at his eyes.
“For me, Ciar. You’re the strongest man I know, and I need that strength for myself now. Tell me you love me and that you have this.”
Ciar tipped his head back and took a deep breath. His arms banded tighter around her body just as another contraction took her. As she moaned, he leaned close. “I love you, and we definitely have this.”
fifty-five
CIAR
“We did good.”Ciar could barely choke the words out as he watched the love of his life cradle their newborn son against her chest.
She’d been so brave, from Gray Eyes to the delivery room, his wife was the most fearless woman he’d ever known.
Labor progressed quickly, and from their admittance to delivery, only twenty minutes had passed.
“Three weeks early and eight pounds two ounces,” Gray said, staring at their son’s face.
Colm Gavriil.
“Turns out, my penis is magic. Three more weeks and your lady parts would have really been in trouble.”
“Asshole,” she muttered, tipping her chin up so that he could kiss her. “If I so much as hear any stories about the birth of our son and your bits and bobs—you’ll suffer, Murphy.”
Ciar chuckled, but soon enough, he felt tears stinging his eyes. “We have a family, Gray. We made this family.”
A year ago…well, a year ago, he was still hiding behind his trauma. Now, he was proud to call himself a father. A husband.
Gray’s eyes started leaking tears over their son’s forehead. She bit her lip, wiping the evidence from the head of their baby. “I’m so proud of you, Ciar. I don’t think there are enough days in a year to tell you how proud I am of you, of being your wife, the mother of your children.”
He traced Gray’s jawline and then Colm’s, more precious than gold. He prayed Anna Morozova was at peace, that she no longer lived by regrets but spent her afterlife protecting children, as she couldn’t do for her own son.
His life restarted with his father’s first hug, but his life truly began when he held one woman in his arms.
“Gray.”
