Avenging Us (Rocker Series Book 3) (14 page)

Her face now so close to mine, the smell of cigarette and alcohol clung thick to her skin. Her figure now drifting toward the light. “She’s the rainbow at the end of a storm, and the light at the end of a tunnel…but she’ll never be
your
anything.” The words were like a whip striking my soul. I tried to shut out the pain of this devil’s accusations, but I felt some truth to her words. But the thought of being apart from him caused the darkness to draw tighter around me. Her eyes glistened with malice, and mesmerized me to where I couldn’t look away. She closed her eyes and I closed mine. The pain too great. In the darkness once again, guided only by her words, all concept of time stopped. Unable to slow down or stop. I continued moving toward the transient light. I opened my eyes, gazing at my daughter’s silhouette with tears streaming down my face.

“I’m sorry my angel.” The concrete weight of my words pulled a single crystalline tear from
her
own soulful eyes. And without hesitation, I leaned forward, fading into the light and from sight.

I woke up to the sound of a heart monitor beeping steadily, and the sterile antiseptic scent of the hospital. My body felt heavy and frozen in both time and place. My ears searched for the lovely sound of the fetal monitor.
Nothing
. Panic started to set in, and someone began calling my name urgently.
Who
? There was no name attached, but the tone had a familiar authority to it. My body yearned to respond. However, the weight of my lids prevented that. Alarms sounded, and hushed tones turned into frenzied words as they poked. Pain… I felt pain. Bright white heat licked across my stomach, and then there was a warm burning sensation.
Darkness was coming for me again. It didn’t matter, but this time I knew I was safe.

A voice broke through, and the memory evaporated faster than the time that was steadily ticking by. Abel. My eyes remained firmly closed. In the back of my mind, remnants of memories swirled and lingered. A baby girl with blue tear-filled eyes. The breath raced to my lungs, faster with each passing moment, and in one final burst, several pictures ambushed me at once. Impossible. Green, brooding eyes shadowed with worry on the fringe of my world, but solid—and
mine
. Always there…
always there
. His words echoed in the stillness that, for a moment, seemed to fill my soul. His lashes brushed against my cheeks before my eyes fluttered open, and I stared up at him. My heart leapt, and a warm, stinging liquid came from nowhere and filled my eyes. His eyes went wide, his lips parted, and there was a mixture of clear relief and a half-dozen other emotions mirrored plainly on his expression. He reached down, kissing my lips, and I could feel the familiar maleness of him. His hands fumbling. He kissed each of my eyes, my cheeks, and then the hallow of my throat.

Worn, unshaven, and undeniably handsome. He whispered, “Jesus, Beauty, you scared the fuck out of me.” He rested his head on my chest, and I fingered his messy hair softly, swallowing past the aching lump that strained against my throat, because right now,
he
needed me…
she
needed me.

“Sorry.” My voice broke, the pain in his eyes still present. “I don’t remember anything that happened.” I shook my head. The panic began to slowly rise. “Where is she? Is she okay? That’s all I care about…” My heart shuttered. I pushed through the pain and events that led me to this bed, and focused on what really mattered. My baby girl…and the man in front of me.

A wide, proud smile slowly pulled across his face. “She’s a perfect angel.”

Angel
. The name bubbled up through a haze of cruel words, shapes, and darkness that edged around the corners of my mind. “What did you call her?”

“Angel, because she’s beautiful.” The love dripped out of him and the air changed around us.

Dr. Mills walked into the room and to my side. A few resident students followed closely behind. “You gave us quite a scare young lady,” he said, putting the stethoscope into his ears. “Breathe and hold.” And I did. He listened closely, his eyes closing. “Again… One breath in and hold.”

The nurse stepped around him, wearing a congenial smile. “I’m just going to untie your gown so the doctor can have a peek.” She untied the lower half and it fell open.

He gently pulled the gauze off my incision and handed it to the nurse. “This needs to be changed a few times a day. Any additional redness, oozing, or sharp pains, you call right away. But the discharge nurse will go over that before you leave.”

“Discharge?” Abel’s eyes narrowed into slits, and his arms crossed defensively. “Not a fucking chance in hell.”

Dr. Mills quickly amended. “No. No. No. She’ll be staying with us and being monitored for a few more days. I’m just stressing the importance of keeping this area clean and dry. When she’s ready to go home, all this will be gone over again, and you’ll leave with instructions. A cesarean takes a good six weeks or longer to heal. The incision heals from the inside out. That takes time. So, you’ll need some help caring for your little one.”

“She’ll have me, and I’ll hire a nurse if needed.” His voice held a protective edge.

The doctor nodded, pleased by Abel’s response. “Good, the more support the better. First time mothers have a habit of over-doing it, and end up back in my office because they ripped a few staples or a fluid pocket developed,” he countered while blotting some residual blood with a clean piece of gauze.

I tried to lean up on my forearms to see. The word staple made me cringe, and I didn’t want to sound vein. But what the fuck did I look like down there? My stomach was still swollen, and from this vantage point, I saw nothing but my aching breasts. However, thoughts of a long, jagged
Frankenstein
incision came to mind.

“What about these?” I pointed to my swollen painful breasts. “They’re killing me, and hard as a rock.”

He removed the last tie holding my dignity together, and my swollen breast fell out. “Did you bring a nursing bra?”

I looked at Abel, who was equally confused.

The doctor’s head tilted in question. “Are you planning to nurse, Gia?” he asked, and I shrugged. I hadn’t thought about it. “Your milk is coming in; that’s why they’re engorged.”

“Does it matter if the baby’s bottle fed already?” Abel asked with clear concern that I may have missed my window to nurse her. I was still focused on my milk coming in and engorged breasts. Abel chuckled and returned his attention back to the doctor.

“Not at all. The baby has to eat either way, right? If there’s an emergency with the mother…the child still needs sustenance.” Well, that made sense. However, I was sad that I missed watching Abel feeding
our
daughter. But thankful it was him instead of a stranger.

I took a moment to give it some real thought. I wanted both, but I didn’t know if it were possible. “I’d like to try, but I want her daddy or family to be able to feed her, too.”

Abel looked pleased with my response.

“Absolutely. Nurse Williams will get you a nursing bra to use. And your baby nurse will explain how it all works.” The nurse left the room speedily, and the doctor continued his examination. I quickly covered myself in front of a room full of strangers.

“When can I see my baby?” I asked, releasing the breath I was holding.

The doctor’s eyes were sympathetic. “The baby can visit with you in the morning. In fact, Abel or the baby nurse can bring her to you. She’s still in the NICU until tomorrow. Purely as a precaution. And you, my dear, need to stay in bed until you’re cleared. If you do well tonight…I don’t see why we can’t get you up and sitting in the chair tomorrow. Let’s see what tomorrow brings,” he said, patting my hand in comfort. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

The room cleared out, and all that remained was Abel and me. He handed me his phone, and on the screen-saver was the first time I saw my daughter. “You took her picture…”

“Of course I did. It didn’t feel right seeing her without you. So this was the next best thing,” he said, kissing my forehead as I studied the picture. With my forefinger and thumb, I widened the image. “She needs a name, though.”

I nodded. Yes, she needed a name. However, the names we spoke about didn’t really seem fitting anymore. “She’s a perfect angel.” I gasped, swallowing the knot of emotion in my throat. I chewed on the name that so readily rolled of our tongues. “Does Angel sound like a stripper name?” I asked, as I seriously considered it as a possible name.

His brows pulled together as he considered it. “I love it as a nickname or term of endearment, but as her actual name, I think it does sound stripper-ish.”

I nodded in agreement. I didn’t want my daughter named after a stripper.

“What about something Italian? She was conceived in Italy, and you are Italian.” He grabbed the pitcher of water and offered me a cup to drink.

“I’d love that,” I gushed. “That’s a perfect idea.” I was almost pissed I didn’t think of it…
almost
.

He rubbed his hands over his worn face, leaning over the tray-table. “I got it! What about Bella Mia?”

“Translates to…” I didn’t want to come off as snotty, but I didn’t know a lick of Italian.

“Well,
my beauty
in Italian is
bellezza mia
. That doesn’t work, but
Bella Mia
does. It’s all in the interpretation, and it fits her. It fits us.”

Happiness and contentment replaced the pain and anxiety I’d felt. I said it out loud a few times…seeing how it sounded. And it fit perfectly. “I love it. We have a name…” I squealed, and winced in pain at the same time.

The past already gone. The future was not yet here. However, in this present moment, we named our daughter and the symbolism behind it was a treasure beyond pretty words or sonnets.

“I’d do anything to see that smile…” His voice sounded full of pride. It was that pride and adoration that glued all the fractured pieces of my damaged heart in place. He was thread woven into the fabric of my soul. He’s the sun in the rain. My relief in pain. The moon, stars, and universe. But at the end of the day…he’s the father to my daughter, and we are family.

We both shared our love for each other to equal measure. As there is no
one
without the other. So, as the sun set and the room grew dim, he hopped onto the bed, drawing me close, and began to recount the good, bad, and the ugly events of the day.

The following morning, Chance brought a fresh change of clothes and sat with Beauty while I showered. I didn’t want her alone for a moment. Her emotions were all over the place, and I was concerned enough to speak with the nurse privately. She was kind enough to explain in detail what some mothers can experience after delivery. My other concern was Gia’s bi-polar disorder and how all this distress would affect it.

She began slowly, but academically… “The days after birth are a time of mercurial emotions—feelings change from one moment to the next, along with quickly fluctuating hormones and a rapidly shifting sense of identity,” she explained and I nodded for her to continue. “If the birth of the child wasn’t how the mother envisioned it, particularly if trauma was involved, the emotions are even more likely to swing from one extreme to the other. Ms. Mastro had a cesarean birth, and even though one was already scheduled and planned for, she went into labor early. Which happens all the time. But”—she lifted her index finger, shaking it—”what was unexpected was the level of trauma her body and psyche went through.”

“Yes, we never expected anything like today. I never want to live through that again—ever.”

“I don’t blame you. It was traumatizing for you, and the infant as well. So, you all suffered to some degree. But her body, and mind, are just catching up. She needs time and perspective to understand more deeply what she feels…whether it’s anger, disappointment, self-reflections, or tears. Keeping it pent up is no good for anyone.”

I blew out a deep breath. “What can I do?”

“What you’re doing…being supportive and loving her. It’s the best medicine in the world. I would let the doctor know your concerns. He’ll address them with you both. Also, there are herbal remedies that some people find helpful.” She handed me a sheet from a folder she held in her hands.