Her All Along Page 15

I didn’t hear the chitchat Dr. Thompson was trying to warm us up with. She was managing to make Taylor somewhat relaxed, though, so that was good. Me? I was tense as fuck and had to remind myself to breathe properly.

  Before I knew it, Taylor was on her back and shifting up her top, revealing her stomach, while Dr. Thompson prepared for the ultrasound.

  “You okay?” Taylor asked me.

  I swallowed dryly and nodded, stepping closer.

  Then she winced and squinted up at me. “She’s moving. Come here—”

  I sucked in a breath as she guided my hand to the spot below her belly button.

  Holy fuck.

  It was surreal. And it sent a strong buzz through me that amplified every emotion I was trying to keep on a leash. I really felt it. I couldn’t believe it. It had to be her little foot.

  She’s mine. She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine.

  I reluctantly withdrew my hand so Dr. Thompson could cover Taylor’s belly with some transparent goo.

  “All right, let’s see how she’s doing today.” Dr. Thompson slid a wand over Taylor and watched the monitor, and there it was. The sound I’d read about. The baby’s heartbeat. My eyes welled up ridiculously quickly, and I rubbed a hand over my mouth. It was so fast. Like a rapid whooshing sound that thudded its way through my fucking heart.

  Taylor was watching the monitor too, completely unfazed.

  How could she not feel it?

  After Dr. Thompson uttered the words “Everything looks wonderful,” I checked out mentally and just stared at the monitor. I couldn’t wait to show Pipsqueak. She was the only one who didn’t find it weird that I could gawk at a picture of the baby’s foot over and over without getting sick of it.

  This wasn’t some toy. The shine wasn’t going to wear off.

  When the exam was over and the fluttering sound of the baby’s heartbeat ceased, I felt instantly bereft. At the same time, we were here to discuss the birth, and hammering out those details would feel good. I’d been antsy about them for weeks now.

  I helped Taylor as much as she would let me, and we walked over to Dr. Thompson’s desk.

  Taylor slumped down in one of the chairs with a sigh of relief. “I can’t wait for this to be over so I can get out of a chair on my own. And maybe wear shoes that aren’t extra wide.”

  I mustered a polite smile and took my seat next to her.

  Dr. Thompson adjusted her chair and pulled out a notepad. “Okay, you two. Taylor, last time we saw each other, I asked you to discuss a nursing routine with Avery. Did you talk it over?”

  I inclined my head and glanced at Taylor, silently asking if she wanted to answer.

  She did. “I’m gonna be in town until my parents’ house is sold anyway, so I will do what you suggested and freeze breast milk that Avery can come get.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Dr. Thompson replied. She addressed me next. “If you’d like, we can schedule a quick meeting where you come in and we go over some nursing methods. It’ll be especially helpful for when you switch from breast milk to formula.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” I was going to need all the assistance I could get.

  “Excellent. Let’s discuss the delivery,” she went on.

  This was the less-fun part. I wasn’t going to be in the room during the delivery, though I respected Taylor’s wishes and knew that was probably for the best. She wanted everything as clinical as possible, in every sense of the word, so only medical personnel would be present. And I would wait in a postpartum room, where a nurse would bring me the baby. Taylor would recover in her own room, having requested not to see the baby at all.

  Keira was flying out this weekend to be here for Taylor after the labor, at which point Taylor didn’t want to see me much either. I’d had to convince her to allow me to crash on their couch the days before the birth. Even Keira had been on my side.

  It was what it was.

  “You know you’re gonna regret this, right?” Darius asked.

  I blew out a breath and wiped some sweat off my forehead. “Yup.”

  At the same time, Pipsqueak and Mary seemed to know exactly what I needed, so it’d made sense to accept their offer when they’d said they could do the shopping. I had bought a crib, an armoire, and a changing table the day after the last ultrasound, but the rest… Apparently, my list of “diapers, clothes, bottles, baby powder, baby soap” wasn’t enough. So, while Darius and I assembled the armoire and the changing table, Mary and Pipsqueak had taken off to go nuts at Target or whatever.

  Mary had mentioned some sort of diaper disposal, to which I’d surrendered my credit card.

  “Did you at least give them a budget?” Darius wondered.

  “I hinted at five hundred bucks,” I replied. “Let’s face it, they’ll probably buy a lot I didn’t know I needed, but I hope they don’t come back with a shitload of clothes she’s going to outgrow in a week.”

  He chuckled.

  Taking a swig of my beer, I surveyed the room that would now be part nursery and part study. Half the room had been empty before anyway, so it wasn’t like I’d had to make any sacrifices space-wise. The armoire was done, all white, matching the changing table and crib, although the latter would stand in my bedroom for now. It’d been a snap decision. I didn’t want any walls between us in the beginning.

  “Have you thought of a name yet?”

  I nodded. “I did that a while ago.” I hoped he didn’t mind where both names came from. “I read some lists online and ended up dreaming about names fucking attacking me.”

  Darius laughed.

  “Then I remembered what Jake was going to name his kids if he ever had any.” I cleared my throat and watched Darius’s mood shift to somber and curious. “Grace,” I said. “Think he’d mind if I stole it?”

  He smiled and shook his head, then attached the last of the two doors to the armoire. “Nope. He’d give you some shit for it, but he’d be honored.”

  I hoped so.

  I gauged his reaction for the middle name. “So, Grace Elise Becker.”

  Darius grinned faintly and quirked a brow. “Sometimes, I wonder if she sees you more as a brother than me.”

  I smiled, relieved. “She’s been an amazing support.”

  “That’s what she does.” He nodded with a dip of his chin. “After my last assignment, she came over to my apartment, all balls to the wall, and decided I’d avoided everyone for too long. And, of course, I was shit-faced, so I started unloading on her about how much I hated people. Said I was gonna move out into the middle of the woods so I didn’t have to watch everyone fail and let their loved ones down—obviously related to the case I’d been working.”

  I assumed I didn’t want to know the grisly details of that case. I recalled it vividly—how he’d been—because I’d stopped by his place too, to make sure he got something in him that didn’t come in a bottle. I’d seen the bandage around his arm and the dressed wound on his shoulder.

  “She smacked you with some truth, I bet,” I said.

  “While popping fuckin’ bubble gum.” He made a face, and I chuckled. “She was all, ‘Brother, you can watch people fail or help them succeed. It’s your damn choice. But now you’re going to shower and join your family for supper.’”

  Yeah, that would do it.

  “Avery! It’s time! I think!”

  Keira’s voice catapulted me straight out of sleep, and I stumbled off the couch, my foot getting stuck in the blanket. Shit. With sleep tugging at my senses and a sharp twinge radiating from my neck, I left the living room and jogged up the stairs.

  Keira stood in the doorway to Taylor’s room, visibly anxious.

  “Thanks, hon.” I squeezed her shoulder and entered the room, where I found Taylor sitting on the edge of her bed. She was in pain; that much was clear. “Did your water break?”

  She nodded nervously. “I think so. I woke up thinking I’d peed, but—oh my God.” She hunched over and scrunched her face, and the sight sent my pulse thr
ough the roof. That had to be a contraction.

  “That’s about four or five minutes,” Keira fretted. “It’s what woke me up. She was in pain, and I was kind of slow to react first. Then I realized this could be it, and I came in here.”

  “Okay.” I steeled myself and pushed my nerves aside; I’d have plenty of time to freak out later, and I helped Taylor off the bed. “Let’s get you to the hospital, then. We’re ready.”

  I’d been ready, for the past six days. I slept in sweats, a tee, and socks. Just in case. My hoodie and shoes waited neatly next to the bag I’d packed in the hallway, and I’d requested Taylor to keep a comfortable outfit within reach. Keira had packed a post-delivery bag for her sister too.

  I helped Taylor change into a fresh pair of underwear, yoga pants, and one of my hoodies. Nothing she owned fit her very well anymore.

  “This is so embarrassing,” Taylor groaned.

  I ignored that and ushered her out of the room.

  “Thank fuck this shit is almost over,” she muttered.

  There would be a lot I would ignore today. Step by step, I helped her down the stairs, and Keira told us she’d drive over to the hospital in an hour or so. No reason for her to be there now. She’d just end up in the waiting room and probably wait there all day.

  While squatting down to assist Taylor with her shoes, I pulled out my phone, called Dr. Thompson, and trapped the phone between my shoulder and cheek.

  “You really know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Taylor gripped my other shoulder for support. “Fuck, here comes another.” She groaned.

  I didn’t know what I was doing, but Pipsqueak had helped me put together a checklist. Hearing Taylor going through contractions was going to threaten my sanity, though. It took all my strength to stay focused. To keep my emotions bottled up, to remain robotic.

  Dr. Thompson answered her call, and I informed her in a rush that we were on our way. Contractions were four minutes apart, which was approximately how long it took to drive to the hospital.

  Thankfully, she was working tonight, so she didn’t have to leave her home in the middle of the night and drive all the way. She’d mentioned living in the Valley, and it was possible I’d been a little nervous about the distance. I mean, the Valley was a solid twenty minutes away from Ponderosa. Twenty minutes was an eternity.

  Seventeen

  Scratch that. Twenty minutes wasn’t an eternity.

  Fourteen hours, however, was.

  I paced the hallway outside the delivery room. By now, Keira had been joined by Pipsqueak and Mary in the waiting room.

  I stopped every time I heard Taylor cry out.

  She was right in there, on the other side of that door, with Dr. Thompson urging her to push.

  I envied the nurses in the delivery room who could witness the birth.

  Returning to my room, I fired off a text to Pipsqueak.

  Didn’t I tell you not to skip school today?

  The teacher in me was not pleased.

  She responded.

  You did. I’m glad I didn’t listen. Mom’s teaching me how to crochet. She’s making baby socks.

  I didn’t know what to do with that information. In fact, it sort of just evaporated. My nerves were shot, my chest felt tight, and my head was a fucking mess. I slumped down in the chair and bounced my knee restlessly. Then Pipsqueak texted again.

  She will be in your arms soon, Mister.

  I released a heavy breath.

  What a motherfucking year this had been.

  If someone had told me in January that I’d wrap up this year in a postpartum room with an empty hospital bed, waiting to meet my child, I didn’t even know how I’d react. Laugh? Stare at them blankly? Snort? Shake my head?

  I cocked my head as a faint sound reached my ears, and it grew stronger and stronger until it was unmistakable. I sucked in a breath and scrubbed my hands over my face, and then I was on my feet. It was a baby’s scream. She was here.

  Holy fuck, I was a dad.

  My stomach tightened painfully. The scream faded, and I wanted it back. I needed to hear her. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand was on the door, but I didn’t get very far. The door opened inward, causing me to stumble back. And the sight before me pushed my heart up into my throat.

  A nurse offered a big smile as she wheeled in a tiny little bundle in a see-through crib of sorts.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Becker.” She positioned the crib next to the bed and gave me an update—perfectly healthy, six pounds and six ounces, eighteen inches long—but just like Pipsqueak’s text, the information flew out of my head the second I’d received it. I couldn’t focus on anything other than that bundle.

  Until the nurse asked, “Would you like to hold her?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded once.

  The emotions I’d kept on a tight leash rattled inside me, and I could sense I wouldn’t be able to control them much longer.

  The nurse suggested I sit down on the edge of the bed.

  Once seated, I mirrored the cradle of my arms, and the nurse gently placed the baby in my embrace. My vision blurred within a second. Fucking hell, she was so tiny. All bundled up in a blanket, and with a soft-looking cap covering her head.

  I didn’t hear a word of what the nurse said after that, and eventually, I was left alone with the baby.

  My daughter.

  My daughter.

  I let out a choked sound and shook my head, and I just stood by while the levees broke within me. I had to blink past the tears so I wouldn’t lose sight of her. This tiny girl who was all mine. She made little noises of complaint, which I probably shouldn’t find cute as hell. But they were. With her eyes closed, she squirmed and whined and got a hand free from the blanket.

  I grinned through my tears and touched her little hand carefully.

  She gripped my finger and settled down somewhat.

  Grace.

  The feeling was surreal.

  “You’re gonna have to be patient with me,” I murmured thickly. “But I promise to keep you safe. You’ll never doubt where I stand.”

  “Pipsqueak, could you get it, please?” I called. “It’s probably Keira.”

  “On it!” she hollered from downstairs.

  I finished changing Grace’s diaper and helped her into the second onesie of the day. It was possible that the fifteen onesies Mary and Pipsqueak had bought hadn’t been too many after all. Because this little puke machine went through at least three a day.

  Grace was four weeks old, and I’d learned five things. One, always carry a towel on my shoulder. Two, she’d poop five minutes after I’d changed her diaper. Three, if I didn’t keep her nails trimmed, I might wake up from her nightly screaming and find her with scratches on her face. In the process, I’d lost ten years of my life. Four, if I didn’t sleep when she slept, I didn’t sleep at all. Five, I absolutely sucked at feeding her, and I didn’t know what I was doing wrong.

  She screamed and protested for at least ten minutes if I was the one holding the bottle.

  Pipsqueak, on the other hand…

  Fucking nonsense. Luckily, I was the only choice once the feeding was over. Grace wouldn’t settle down until she got to throw up on my shoulder. At least I had a magic touch for something. She was great at falling asleep in my arms too.

  “Let’s go see if Keira brought you some food.” I pressed a kiss to the side of Grace’s head, carefully holding her in place at my shoulder, and carried her downstairs.

  I found both Keira and Pipsqueak in the kitchen.

  “Hey, Captain Sweatpants.” Keira held up a container that I assumed had more frozen cubes of breast milk. “Freezer, right?”

  I nodded. “Thanks, hon.” Turning to Pipsqueak, I asked if she could take Grace into the living room. I wanted a word in private with Keira.

  “Of course.” Pipsqueak gathered Grace in her arms and trailed out.

  She had a bunch of textbooks open on the kitchen table, so I steered clear of that. It’
d been part of our babysitting negotiation. I’d offered fifteen bucks an hour, two hours a day, for the first two months, at which she’d scoffed and called me stupid. She’d countered with zero bucks an hour, three hours a day, and it’d been my turn to call her stupid. This was her senior year, and I wasn’t going to have her waste it on babysitting when she could be studying. In the end, we’d compromised. Ten bucks an hour, three hours a day, and she’d promised to spend any spare time studying.

  She wasn’t the best at negotiating.

  “How’s your sister?” I forced myself to ask. Because I hadn’t particularly enjoyed the previous answers to the question. I’d only seen Taylor twice since Grace was born, and once was in the presence of a lawyer. It just rubbed me the wrong way how eagerly she was signing away her rights. She’d talked nonstop of the traveling she was going to do—how wasted she was going to get—now that she was “free.”

  “Same. She’s fine.” Keira rested her hip against the counter and chewed on her lip. “You don’t seem glad that she’s moving on.”

  It wasn’t that. “It’s the rate at which she’s moving on,” I corrected patiently. “I don’t believe it’s healthy for her to act like these past nine months didn’t happen.”

  Keira nodded slowly and fidgeted with the rubber band around her wrist. She’d undergone some changes recently. Her hair was back to dirty-blond, a big improvement over the pitch-black tresses that went with too much eye makeup. The lethargy had left her gaze too. She was coming out of her mourning period, and I was happy to see it.

  “You have to understand that she’s been processing this for a long time, though,” she replied quietly. “I think she puts up a front when she’s near you, and maybe that’s why it seems like she’s ignoring everything. But she talks to me. She talks to her therapist in New York.”

  Oh. I folded my arms over my chest and scratched my jaw. “I didn’t know she was getting help.”

  Keira smiled ruefully. “Because she’s not getting it from you?”

  Touché.

  “I’m not saying your concern isn’t valid,” she added. “I’ve been worried too. But I’m keeping an eye on her. She has a big heart—it’s just… This wasn’t what she wanted.”