Addicted After All (32 page)

Rose holds in a breath, and then Lily abruptly unfreezes from her state. She stretches her arm to clasp Rose’s hand, who’s shaking and sweaty and the minute Rose meets her sister’s gaze, it’s over for both of them. They start crying profusely, and Rose nods repeatedly, gearing up to push one last time.

Ryke turns his head, not able to watch this. My hand shakes, and I ball it into a fist. I can barely keep my eyes trained on Connor and Rose either. It’s hard seeing two put-together people face a situation that seems too damn big for them. With consequences that could cripple everyone. And there’s nothing we can do to help.

Rose screams like someone is stabbing her in the chest.

Shrill. Pained screams.

My ears blister, and Ryke rests his hands on his head. I’m about to rub my eyes, to cover them, to tug at my collar. Something to distract my mind.

But then, the wail of a high-pitched baby follows Rose’s cries.

I can’t see the child yet. Instinctively, I look for Connor’s reaction. And it takes me a moment to realize that real tears well in his eyes.

I’ve never seen him cry.

Not even close to it, and there’s no mask concealing his emotions right now. It fills me with something pure and raw. It’s even hard to breathe.

Rose collapses back against Daisy, but her eyes stay like nervous pinpoints on her husband. “Is he okay?” she asks tiredly, her chin trembling.

She thinks that she’s having a boy. Maybe it’s what she believed this whole time, but in this moment, I can see that she’d be fine with it. She extends her arms to take him from Connor.

And then Connor lifts up the small baby, hands and legs tiny but moving, and alive. The cries have softened some. “
She’s
perfect, as far as I can tell.” She.

Rose got her girl.

Connor rests the baby on Rose’s chest, and she makes a high-pitched noise, not a cry but something that sounds content, to be close to her mom. He kisses his wife’s forehead. “Tell me if you’re feeling off,” he says softly.

Rose nods once, too fatigued to repeat the motion.

“You need to keep her on your chest, so her temperature can match yours until the ambulance arrives.” He tucks my button-down around their baby, to make sure she stays warm.

“Hi,” Rose whispers softly to the baby. “You’re a little gremlin, aren’t you?” Rose smiles as more tears spill. “
My
little gremlin.” As she touches her hand, the baby’s small fingers close around Rose’s pinky. Christ.

I wipe my eyes, and I can hear sirens in the distance, coming closer to us. I reach out and pat Connor on the shoulder. I have no words. He breaks his gaze from Rose and his child to meet mine, and he whispers to me, “This is the best and most terrifying day of my life.” He inhales a strained breath, his eyelashes wet with tears.

“You want to know the crazy thing?” I say back to him. “I could tell.”

Connor laughs into a weak smile, still overcome with things he’s never felt before. He blinks, and those tears fall.

I don’t think any of us imagined human life to be this powerful. I always pictured it as a bad thing—bringing a kid into a world of pain, misery, heartache. What’s the goddamn point?

And I can’t answer it in words. The point is in every feeling that ripples through my veins and grips my bones. It’s something that shrinks the universe to a single place and slows time to a millisecond. It’s too deep to articulate.

Ryke stares out the window. “The ambulance just parked in the emergency lane.”

Everything is going to turn out okay. I remember back in February, on the yacht, I stood out on the deck with Connor one night. A conversation that we shared crashes against me.

I told him, “I know you think you’re perfect, and that you’ll raise the perfect kid and have the perfect fucking life. But is there any part of you—even the tiniest part—that is scared shitless?” Before he opened his mouth, I cut him off, “And don’t bullshit me, Connor.
Please.
”

Connor licked his lips in thought before he said, “I’m not scared.”

It’s not what I wanted to hear. I choked on a laugh, about to turn around and leave him.

But he caught my shoulder and kept me there.

“I’m not finished yet either.” He carried a deep, tranquil serenity that just eased me in an instant. And he added, “I’m not scared because I’ve accepted the future that you fear.”

“English,” I snapped.

“I’m not perfect.” He shook his head at my growing smile. “Don’t tell Rose or Ryke I said it.”

“Deal,” I nodded. I only told Lily.

“I don’t believe my children will be perfect, Lo.” He continued, “I understand that circumstances will change them, mold them. My own, unforeseeable mistakes, might even hurt them. And they may not be perfect, but they will be steadfast.” He paused. “And yours will too.”

Steadfast. A word that I would never describe myself as. Dependable. Loyal. A constant in a world of unstable variables.

It’s something I’d die for my own child to be.

This birth should’ve scared me more, for when Maximoff comes. But I’m no longer saddled with these fears. I want this imperfect perfect kid. Flaws and all.

Because he’s a life I’m meant to give. Because he’s a part of Lily. And because—he’s my son.

{ 30 }

LILY CALLOWAY

In the dead of night, I’m wide awake, my back pressed against Lo while his arms wrap snuggly around me. I stay utterly still, careful not to rouse him from his sleep. My thoughts won’t stop replaying what happened in the limo a week ago.

I’ve been cautious during showers, jumping in and out so I recognize when my water breaks. I don’t think I can handle having a baby anywhere but a hospital. I’m not prepared for the unexpected, and I think, maybe, that’s what being a mom is. Being able to handle all the unexpected things in life.

My arms prick with cold. I’m not ready for this. Rose having her baby first has amplified all of my fears. And I can’t push a pause button. I can’t hit rewind to gain more time.

I am stuck on this course with only one end.

Cries filter through our closed door, from the nursery down the hall. It’s the second time tonight. I hear Lo shift behind me, and I snap my eyes shut. He can’t know I’m awake. He’ll worry. And I’ll worry that he’s worrying. It’s just too much worry for two people.

“Lil…how long have you been up?”

I don’t move.

“You’re holding your breath, love.”

“Oh…” I murmur.

I open my eyes. I’ve been bested, but I’d rather lose to Loren Hale than anyone else. The hall light flickers, and I see shadows through the crack underneath the door and hear the patter of feet.

Lo’s hands find mine in the darkness, and he laces our fingers together in a strong grip. I fixate on the lamp light under the door, and my eyes attune to the baby cries that alternate between soft and incessant. In a few weeks, that will be Maximoff. And what if I can’t calm him? What if he just cries and cries with no end?

What if he hates me? And then I turn out to be a terrible mother that everyone believes me to be.

“Lil,” Lo whispers, “you’re shaking.” He props his body on the pillow and rubs my arm. “You’re cold…”

I lie on my back, and he stares down at me. Pulled away from the door, I cover my eyes with my hands. I don’t want to see the concerned wrinkles in his forehead or the pain in his amber irises at watching me tear-up.

With a breath, I say, “I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

He tugs my hand down from my cheek. “It’s okay to be scared.”

I sniff loudly, and I try to drown in his eyes, the confidence that’s flourished inside of them. “I wish I could feel more prepared…ready.”

“Will that make you feel better?” he asks.

I rub my nose with the back of my hand. “Yeah. I think so.”

He sits up and swings his legs off the bed at this. The mattress undulates from his absence as he stands. I frown and watch him saunter across the room, stopping at my side of the bed. He crouches so we’re face-to-face.

“Lily Calloway,” he says my full name like it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, “there is no way to prepare for a limo baby.” He smiles at this, and I almost turn into my pillow with an agonized groan. Reality is too cold.

He places a hand on my shoulder so I stay facing him. “But you can believe in yourself.”

“I did…I used to,” I tell him. Before Rose gave birth, I thought for sure I was ready. Now, it’s harder to convince myself.

“We’re going to change that.” He rises and then extends his hand to me.

I frown and slowly sit up. “Where are we going?” My eyes flit to the clock. 2 a.m.

“We’re taking a trip.”

I wipe my splotchy cheeks. “To Hogwarts?” I ask hopefully.

He smiles more fully, something clear in the darkness of our room. “We’re trying to banish your fears. Hogwarts has Death Eaters and Dementors.”

“Yeah, but that was when Harry was in school,” I whisper since it’s nighttime. “I’d like to think it’s become a pretty happy place since then.”

“Me too.” He wags his fingers, wanting me to take his hand still. “We’ll go to Hogwarts another night.” He doesn’t remind me that we’re not wizards, that we’re not magical. It almost causes more tears to brim.

“Promise?” I reach for his hand, and he helps me to my feet. With my large baby bump, I feel heavier and more round than ever before.

“Promise.” He kisses the top of my nose, and he leads me out into the hall. The crying from the nursery has stopped, but the door is cracked open. We walk down there and then I peek inside.

In navy pajama pants, Connor cradles the small baby in a pale pink onesie, feeding her a bottle. Even though she was a little early, the doctors said she was perfectly healthy at seven pounds, two ounces. They checked out Rose at the hospital too, and she passed all the tests like an honor student would. Her body didn’t fail her. But mine has betrayed me plenty of times before.

And I worry about all the headlines too. Even the normal news stations, not just the tabloids, ran the story about Rose giving birth in a limo and Connor delivering the baby. A week later and the media hasn’t died down.

It’s scary to think a good majority of the world will be watching and waiting for news about the birth of Maximoff. Sometimes I wonder if they’re all hoping I’ll make a giant mistake afterwards, just so it’ll be a nice story, some good entertainment.

For once, I’d like no complications, no speed bumps. Something peaceful. And happy.

Maybe it’s just a dream.

I watch Connor, never seeing him so smitten with another human being, except maybe Rose. But he gives his daughter a different kind of look, one that says
I’ll do anything and everything for you.
I remember when they asked Rose the name of the baby at the hospital, for the records, and she didn’t even hesitate. It’d taken her so long to pick a name, but in that moment, she went with her heart.

Jane.

Chosen from her favorite Charlotte Brontë novel.

Lo gently pulls me into the princess nursery, being quiet. I’m not sure what he’s planning, but my heart has taken a front row seat and decided to spasm and race.

“Lo,” I whisper-hiss.

Connor already turns around, not surprised by our presence. I wonder if he could hear us breathing or our feet against the floorboards.

Jane’s striking blue eyes focus on my forehead while she sucks from her bottle. I’m not scared to hold her. Rose hasn’t been possessive of Jane, and in part, it’s from being so exhausted. She’s let all of us cradle her daughter at some point this past week.

Lo guides me to the plush cream rocking chair, and he sidles next to Connor, whispering. I try to read their lips, but all I can recognize is my name, not helpful.

When they spin back around, Connor sets his sights on me and nears. My attention falls to baby Jane, who looks content in her father’s arms.

“She’s so cute,” I whisper to him.

“Why don’t you give her the rest of the bottle?”

“Wha…” My pulse speeds again, and Lo raises his brows at me. This was his big idea? I’m now way more panicked.

“You won’t hurt her,” Connor says, suddenly about to rest Jane in my arms.

“No, wait,” I say quickly. He stops midway to listen to my alarm. “What if I drop her? Or I choke her? What if she cries? Rose won’t like it.”

Connor’s lips lift in a smile, amused. This isn’t amusing. This is some scary stuff. “You won’t drop her. You won’t choke her. And if she cries, just rock her. I’m right here, Lily.”

“And Rose?”

“Loves you,” Connor finishes. “And she would be
more
than happy to ease your fears about doing this with Maximoff. You’ll be great.” Before I can protest, Jane is in my arms.

She’s so tiny. Her little fingers wiggling and waggling as she sucks on the bottle. She barely makes a peep as Connor steps back from me.

It’s not as terrifying as I thought. I breathe out, expelling some nerves.

I tilt the bottle and let Jane drink the contents.

Rose and I discussed breastfeeding some time ago, and to no one’s surprise, she was adamant about using formula. She’s not a maternal, touchy-feely person, so it makes sense that she wouldn’t find joy in breastfeeding like other women do. For other reasons, I’d prefer formula too, even if breastfeeding has health benefits.

But I worry about the ridicule and backlash if the public finds out. I can see the headlines:
Lily Calloway chooses formula over breastfeeding. She cares more about herself than her child.

Rose told me that I shouldn’t be shamed for my choices—no woman should. But the pressure is already there, no matter where or who it comes from.

Jane finishes off the bottle, and she squirms a little in my arms.

“Put her against your chest and gently pat her back,” Connor instructs.

With a nervous pit building in my stomach, I listen to his directions and press Jane to my chest. I give her a couple pats and rub her back too. She burps a bit, and then she begins to relax. I blow out a tense breath. That wasn’t so bad. I cradle her, watching Jane tiredly close her eyes. And I feel my lips rise in a smile. She drifts back to a temperate sleep.