Chasing Love's Wings (33 page)

She slides up the bed and I watch her move. She is so beautiful and it’s hard to believe
that she’s my wife. These last six months have been a whirlwind of ups and downs.
But the ups definitely outweigh the downs, and I love her more every day.
 

Soon we will be parents and will be living lives with careers and a family, both of
which I never imagined I’d have in my life, but now that I do, it’s heady, overwhelming,
but oh so amazing.
 

I climb up onto the bed between her waiting legs, and in a matter of moments, I am
sliding home. “You’re my life. You are my everything. You are my wife and I have never
felt more complete. I love you, Cameron Michaels.” I kiss her slowly, full of passion
and needy desire. Her answering kiss is just as strong and powerful, and I am lost
to her, lost in her, and I never want to be found.

FORTY-NINE

May 28th, 2013

Five Months Later

The last five months have been pure bliss. Tristan, my husband — that still sounds
strange, but it is a very good strange to hear — has been my everything. He’s been
there every day, and in everyway possible, and we’ve never had a fight that we haven’t
bounced back from stronger.
 

I’m a whale — or at least I feel that way, and for good reason. Yesterday was my due
date, but nope; this stubborn little one is deciding to hang out a little longer.
I was relieved when I didn’t go into labor yesterday, if only for the reason that
I didn’t want a beautiful day to be tainted by the memory of two years ago. The day
that Bobby, my father, disappeared from this world. Sure, if you would’ve asked me
back in December how I felt about it, I’d have told you I didn’t care. But since Tristan
and I were married on Tarah’s beach five months ago, Bobby and I have grown closer
than we ever were.
 

Though our communication is severely limited and consists of emails, we communicate
nearly every day, and it is an amazing feeling.
 

Life around us is blooming and blossoming. Mick and Beau were married on Valentine’s
Day, just like they wanted, and what made it even more special was that they were
married at Blu Phoenix, our jointly owned bar that is now open and booming with business.
Tristan arranged to have two private shows play opening weekend with two of Nashville’s
biggest stars. It was perfect and beautiful, and ever since then we’ve had artists
dying to play our intimate little venue, and Blu Phoenix is turning a major profit.
 

Tristan and I now live nearly fulltime in Los Angeles. Though I’m not a fan of it,
our house is nearly done, our baby is almost here, and he is busy acting in and producing
Finding Forever
. Complements of a great working relationship with the writing staff on the movie,
he’s made some changes to the script, changes that are more like our own life than
they were before. Though I have to admit, the original script was pretty damn close.
After I read it, I understood a lot more about Tristan and how he feels about me and
why things were and remain so important to him.
 

We were able to wait until award season to announce our marriage and pregnancy, and
since then I’ve gained my own celebrity, both in fashion and in the fact that I’m
Mrs. Tristan Michaels. Quietly leaving the house we’re renting has been more of a
challenge due to the impending “baby watch.”

“Oomph,” I groan as another contraction strikes. I check my watch, a beautiful Rolex
given to me by my husband on our one-month anniversary and also as a first-day-on-the-job
gift. Eight minutes. It might be time to start making some phone calls.

I click the intercom button on my phone. “Rayne, can you come in here, please?”

“Yes, ma’am.” After two heartbeats, she is in my office.
 

“I need the car,” I say to her.

“Is it time?” I nod. “Yes, ma’am. Do you need help?” I shake my head and she leaves.
I stand, grabbing my phone, and I dial Vinnie’s extension.
 

“Hello, Cami.”

“Hi, Vinnie, can you grab Trinity and come into my office, ASAP?”

“On our way,” he says, and he hangs up.
 

It doesn’t take but a couple of minutes for them to arrive, and when they do, I am
leaning over the desk, breathing slowly through another contraction.
 

“You all right?” Vinnie asks.
 

I nod, rather dramatically, then look at my watch. Still eight minutes. Good.
 

“The car is here,” Rayne says as she comes into my office.

“Thank you,” I say as my contraction calms down.
 

“You two are in charge. I’ll let you know what happens, or at least after it’s happened.
But don’t expect me back until at least August.”

“Absolutely. You need some help?” Vinnie says, concerned. I look at my watch.
 

“Nope, I have about six and a half minutes before another one strikes and I’m sure
Rayne is holding the elevator.” I grab my bag from the table behind my desk and walk
toward them. “I’ll let you know when I’m available for emergency situations, and you
can draw up a press release once Tristan, the baby and I are at home.” I look at my
watch. Less than six minutes now.
 

“Good luck,” Trinity says, and I smile at her and Vinnie as I leave my office. Rayne,
as I expected, is holding the elevator for me.
 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asks when I step inside.

“I’m great, and going to have a baby. But I don’t need a scene outside.”
 

She nods and the doors close. I pull my phone from my purse and check my watch. Four
minutes.

I clear the elevator, walking as quickly and as tall as I can manage. I don’t need
anyone in the lobby or out on the sidewalk to suspect anything other than that I’m
leaving the office. It’s three in the afternoon.

I climb inside the car. “Cedars-Sinai,” I tell the driver, and I look at my watch.
One minute.
 

I look at my phone and the picture of Tristan and me on our wedding day. It’s one
of our shots from the penthouse. Tristan is down on his knees, holding my belly in
his hands, looking up at me as he kisses my bump. Breathe, Cams.

Eight minutes.

The contraction passes a little faster than the last one did. But I keep an eye on
my watch, concerned the next one might be coming faster. I press Tristan’s name, and
the phone starts to ring. No answer, as I expected. He is deep in filming
Finding Forever
. I try Travis, who is also in the movie. No answer. “Oh, for hell.” Now Tyson.
 

“Cami, are you all right?”
 

“Nope, I’m headed to the hospital now.”

“How far apart?”

We’ve practiced this a million times. “Eight minutes, but getting stronger. Where
is he?”
 

“He’s filming, but he saw me answer the phone. I’m looking at him now.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Total panic mode.” He laughs and I join him.
 

“No panicking, it’s not allowed.”
 

“Good luck with that one, darlin’,” he says. “We will be on our way.”
 

“See you soon.”
 

We hang up. I call Beau.

“Finally,” she says into the phone, and I laugh. I look at my watch, and nearly five
minutes have passed already.
 

“Forgone conclusion.”
 

“So you’re not in labor?”
 

I laugh. “Yes, I am.”
 

“Yay!” she shouts. “We’re on our way.”
 

We hang up.
 

Mick and Beau are in Phoenix, but a flight leaves Phoenix like every half hour, so
I have no doubt they will be airborne within the hour and at the hospital within three.
Which should still be plenty of time.

Tristan and I still do not know what we are having. We both decided that there are
very few surprises in life and that this should be one of the few we keep ahold of.
Breathe.

I check my watch: six minutes. I breathe through the contraction, which is stronger
and more painful than the last.
 

The car pulls up in front of the hospital and I can see photographers off in the distance.
“Shit. Can you go inside, act normal, and grab a nurse or three?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He climbs out of the car. This baby is the hottest ticket in Hollywood
right now and I’m hoping like hell we can get inside quickly.

My driver returns with three nurses in tow. I open the door. “Are you all right?”
the nurse asks.
 

“Yes, I’m in labor, but I need a screen. I don’t need the paparazzi catching this.”
 

“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse says. They are well-versed in celebrity arrivals and they
manage to extract me from the car and get me into the wheelchair without alerting
the press. We’re inside and on our way to Labor and Delivery in no time flat.
 

******

Tristan

******

I’m wringing my hands together as Tyson drives to the hospital. To say that I’m freaking
out is probably an understatement. It’s time, it is finally time to meet my son —
or daughter — and... “Oh my God, I’m freaking out.”
 

Tyson laughs. “She’ll do great, you’ll do great. Just relax.”
 

I start to think about all the things we’re not ready for. The house isn’t done; the
nursery certainly isn’t done. But our rental is well-prepared for Baby Michaels’s
arrival, and I relax a little.
 

We’ve been filming my scenes nonstop since we got here. I made it very clear to them
that I would be taking off for a few days when the time came, and they were understanding
and made some adjustments. We finished nearly all of my scenes, and I wasn’t on set
when Tyson got the call, but I didn’t have my phone.
 

“We’re almost there,” Tyson says. “I’ll pull into the parking garage. Best chance
to avoid a scene.”
 

I nod and hope that Cami got in without one too. My phone doesn’t go off with any
new alerts, so I’m assuming we’re still under the radar for now.
 

We finally arrive and Tyson leaves me to go park the car, and I practically run to
the third floor nurses’ station. “Mrs. Michaels?” Both of the nurses stare at me;
they know exactly who I am, and I am extremely thankful for patient confidentiality
and the fact that they can’t go running to the press.
 

“Room three,” the one says, and points to my right. I move quickly to the door of
the room and I hear some commotion inside; I open the door and Cami is there on the
bed. Her knees are up and there is a nurse between her legs.
 

“Cams?”
 

“Hi, beautiful,” she says, and I want to cry. She’s in labor and calls me beautiful.
 

“Hi beautiful yourself.” I come to stand next to her, opposite the nurse, and she’s
pulling her hand out and removing her glove.
 

“You’re about five and half centimeters,” she says as the glove snaps, and I jump.
I feel Cami’s hand on mine. Then the sound finally registers: I can hear a heartbeat.
It’s quiet, but still there.
 

I look at Cami and give her the best half smile I can manage. “How are you doing?”
I ask her.
 

“I’m better now.”

“Oh.”

She smiles wide. “Epidural.”

I laugh. “Well okay then.” She looks to her right.
 

“Watch the top line.” I do, and it is nearly peaked at the top. “That is a contraction,
and I am feeling nothing except a little pressure.”
 

“How far apart?”
 

“About three minutes.”
 

The nurse comes over to the bed; she is holding something that looks a little like
a crochet hook. “I’m going to break your water. You won’t feel too much, but the contractions
should increase in frequency and they will intensify.” I watch as the nurse goes back
to where she was when I came in and does something, then I hear a popping sound of
sorts. “Nice and clear. Don’t move, we’ll change the sheets under you.”
 

Cami grunts a little and I look at her. “She wasn’t kidding. Feel?” she says, taking
my hands. She places them on her belly, and it is hard as a rock. But after a few
heartbeats it softens a little. I don’t remove my hands because I’m looking at Cami;
then suddenly her belly hardens again and I look to the contraction monitor and, sure
enough, she is peaking again.
 

“You’re about a minute apart.” The nurse sets about changing Cami’s sheets and then
she leaves, saying, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. We will check your progress again
and go from there.”
 

The nurse leaves, and Cami and I are alone.
 

“Push, baby,” I tell her, and she looks at me; she’s scared. “You’re doing great.”
No need to tell her that I’m my own mess right now. We’re so close, but we’ve been
so close for over an hour. It’s now nearly two in the morning and she’s been here
since just before four.
 

“You’re doing great, Cami,” Dr. Burgess encourages her. “You’re almost there.”
 

Cami pushes again, and I see Dr. Burgess get a little more excited.
 

“Tristan, do you want to watch?” I look at Cami and she nods. I take a step toward
the end of her bed, closer to her knee, and I look over. “Okay, Cami, push again.
Let’s show Tristan your baby’s head. Ready?” Cami nods and braces herself to push
harder. I can see the determination in her eyes. “Push.”
 

Cami grabs her thighs and pushes with all her might, and I watch as a messy yet hair-streaked
head slowly appears, and I’m overcome. “Again, Cami, just like that one,” Dr. Burgess
encourages her again, and she does, putting everything she can into it, and our baby’s
head descends a little further. When Cami relaxes, though, the head doesn’t go back
in. “Cami, one more push and we should see a head.” Cami catches her breath and her
might, and she pushes, and out comes our baby’s head. “Hang on, Cami.” I watch as
Dr. Burgess goes to work with one of those ball suckers, clearing out mouth and nose.
“All right, Cami, one more push and you’ll be holding your baby in your arms. One,
two, three.”