Jack & Coke (The Uncertain Saints Book 2) (24 page)

Everything hurt, and I quickly realized that there would be no crossing my arms in the future, possibly for the next couple of weeks.

I had a fractured wrist that was in a bright green cast.

A sore shoulder from my dislocation.

Multiple lacerations on my face from the brass knuckles and Liam’s fists.

But at least I was alive.

And I would recover.

Jennifer hadn’t known I would get out of it alive, though.

She’d been looking out for herself, even if she had said it was all for the baby.

Another contraction hit Jennifer, and I watched in terror as the baby’s heart rate went from 143 to 89.

The nurses rushed into the room then.

One handed me a pair of scrubs, foot booties, and a mask.

“Get dressed. I’ll wait here until you’re done, then I’ll take you back to the OR,” the nurse instructed.

I nodded, going into the bathroom and taking off the pair of jeans Annie had brought me, and slipping my legs into the scrubs that were on the verge of being too short.

The scrub top didn’t fit very well, but I didn’t really care seeing as my shoulder felt like it was on the verge of falling off.

I grunted, maneuvering my arm into the scrub top, but I had to hand the mask to the nurse once I got back outside.

“I can’t get this on. It hurts to lift my arm above my bottom rib,” I told her.

She slipped the mask on, tying the two ends so the mask lay against my face just so.

Then she gestured for me to follow.

I did and was bombarded by Annie taking pictures of me the entire time I walked down the hall.

“What are you doing?” I asked her
, liking the way she was smiling so big.

“I’m documenting this day,” she said happily. “The next time I see you, you’ll be a daddy.”

I grinned at her, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Thanks,” I said. “Wait here for me, okay?”

I gestured to the corner of the wall right outside of the operating room, and followed the nurse in.

It was freezing.

And Jennifer was already strapped down to a table with both of her arms held out wide beside her.

She had on a blue cap similar to mine, and her eyes were closed.

“She’s been knocked out,” the nurse said when she caught my wariness. “We don’t have time to put in a spinal block or epidural. Just sit down right there, and we’ll get the baby to you as soon as we can.”

They’d all been prepared, and knew the situation.

Plus, it wasn’t their first rodeo.

There was a prison located about fifteen miles from the hospital, and from what I’d learned after I’d told them what was going on, they had women from the prison coming in all the time to have their babies.

They knew protocols and would hand the baby over to me as soon as he or she was checked over.

I was nervous.

Would I be a good father?

Would all of this work out with Annie?

Would she marry me?

Would she be any better at taking care of a child than I would?

All of these thoughts swirled through my brain as the minutes passed by.

Then suddenly, my world stopped.

The sounds of my child’s cries filled the room, loud and pissed way the fuck off.

“Oh, he’s upset,” the doctor drawled.

He.

I had a boy.

I had a boy!

I looked up in time to see the doctor pass my son off to a waiting nurse who had her hands outstretched with a blanket covering them.

She curled her arms around him expertly, and brought my son over.

Then she handed him to me.

“What do you think?” She asked.

I looked at my son.

At the child that was conceived not in love, but during a desperate circumstance, and I couldn’t love him any more.

I’d been indifferent about the entire situation since I’d found out about it.

Thought about giving him up for adoption.

Thought about having Jennifer abort the baby.

But now that he was in my arms, I couldn’t imagine ever not having him.

He was mine.

And he was perfect.

He had a red splotchy face; a set of lungs that I could just tell would be fun in the future, and a head full of hair that looked exactly like mine.

He had my nose. My hairline.

My everything.

He looked nothing like Jennifer, and for that, I was thankful.

Because I didn’t want to look at my son and be reminded of the fact that he was conceived in such an awful way.

I wanted to look at him and be proud, just as I was now, with what I had.

And Vitaly did make me proud.

Vitaly Andrew Konn.

I didn’t mean to gain this much weight. It happened by snackcident.

-Annie’s secret thoughts

Annie

I was supremely nervous.

I put on a good show, but I was a mass of nerves as I waited for Mig to come back out of the operating room with his child.

Would it be a girl or a boy?

I’d asked Mig why he didn’t know a few weeks ago, and he’d said that he didn’t want to know, because it didn’t matter.

As long as he or she was healthy, he’d be happy.

And I found that I quite liked the way he thought.

“You need to give them some time before you go in there,” a nurse said callously at my side.

I blinked, turning to her.

It was the one who’d walked Mig into the room.

How she’d gotten out when she’d entered was beyond me, but I wouldn’t be investigating.

“I’m giving them their time,” I said, somewhat annoyed that she even had the gumption to say something like that to me.

She didn’t know my story. She didn’t know Mig. Nor did she know what Jennifer had done to Mig.

All she knew was that I was the other woman, and had decided to judge.

I decided the best choice would be to not respond.

Instead I stood there, waiting for the doors to the operating room to open.

“You’re ignoring me,” the nurse said.

She was right. I was.

“I don’t know what gave you that idea,” I replied softly, my heart beating quickly in my chest.

Was that a cry?

It sounded like a cry!

Then the doors to the operating room opened, and out came a very happy Mig, a smile about a mile wide on his face.

I started taking pictures.

This was too good not to document forever.

I’m so glad that I brought my camera!

“Oh,” I breathed when Mig stopped in front of me.

I went up on my tippy toes, then peeked over the side of the blanket.

“It’s a boy,” Mig rumbled, pride evident in his voice.

My eyes went up to meet his, and a smile transformed my face.

“Congratulations,” I said softly.

He winked.

“Want to hold him?” He asked.

I did. I
so
did.

I took about fifteen more pictures, then squirted my hands with the hand sanitizer that was on every corner in the hospital.

Once I’d lathered up my hands, I nervously held them out.

Mig placed his baby into my arms, and I started to cry.

Not pretty tears, either.

“Oh, Mig. You did so good,” I whispered.

I looked up at him.

He was looking at me, looking at his son.

“I thought I would hate him,” he started.

I knew that, too.

I knew that was why he hadn’t bought any clothes.

I knew that was why he really refused to know what the sex of the baby was.

I knew that was why I’d never heard him talk about his excitement at having a baby.

Because this baby was made, not out of love or passion, but desperation. Hate.

Jennifer had done that to him.

Had hurt him.

And Mig hadn’t been able to let that go. Hadn’t been able to celebrate like most expectant fathers do.

And he’d been in pain.

So much pain that I could see it on his face now.

“Mig,” I started.

He started to reply, but shook his head when he saw someone come out after him.

“I’ve got the extra band if you’d like to have it,” a new nurse said, offering it to Mig.

“Can you put it on my fiancé?” He asked.

The nurse jolted, and I could hear the other nurse’s scoff at my side.

I didn’t bother looking at her.

“Yes, I can do that,” she confirmed.

So that was how I’d been given the hospital bracelet that the mothers wore indicating that the baby was theirs.

Mig had an identical one on his wrist, albeit much larger.

“Well, if y’all want to follow me to the nursery, we’ll get baby Vitaly cleaned up for you, and then we’ll give you a room of your own,” the nurse said, sounding jovial.

I would love this job.

Who wouldn’t want to help deliver life every day?

“Do you…do you think,” Mig said once he got to the door. “Do you think you could go in there with him? I need to go sit with Jennifer while she wakes up. Explain what’s going to happen now. But I don’t want him to be alone.”

My heart hurt.

Jennifer may have been a bad person, but I knew that this had to be hard on her.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll go in there with him,” I whispered. “Then we’ll wait for you in the room they give us. Do you think you can wait long enough to tell your Nonnie which room?”

“It’ll be the same one we had the mother in earlier,” the nurse at my side said. “We’ll move Ms. Konn to another room.”

I nodded.

“Thank you,” I said.

Mig wrapped his arms around both me and his son, pressed his lips against my forehead, then left.

“I hope you got your camera ready,” the nurse said. “Because you’re about to get some good pictures of us cleaning him up and giving him his first bath.”

I was nervous.

I looked down at the little boy that looked so much like Mig that it hurt, and I smiled.

“Yeah, I’ve got my camera ready,” I confirmed.

And boy did Mig’s boy scream.

Vitaly Andrew Konn was going to be a bruiser, too.

He was eight pounds and twenty inches long, a healthy weight for a full term baby.

“His lungs sound great, don’t they?” The nurse asked.

I nodded.

“Yeah, they do,” I confirmed, snapping another picture.

I looked up when someone tapped on the glass, then grinned and waved.

All of the members of the Uncertain Saints were outside, looking through the glass at me and Vitaly.

Peek, Wolf, Ridley, Core, Casten, and Griffin.

Then there was Alison holding Wolf’s son, Nathan, squeezed in under Peek’s arm.

She gave me wide eyes, and I held up my fingers, signaling he was eight pounds.

“Looks like you’ve got an excited bunch out there,” the nurse observed.

I smiled and studied Mig’s brothers.

They were excited, even though they’d never admit it.

They were all badasses…it was badass rule number one: do not show any emotion other than badass.

And, apparently, being excited about a tiny little baby wasn’t allowed…not that they were hiding it well.

“Yeah, they’re pretty excited,” I agreed.

“Here, I’ll let you do this,” she said, handing me the diaper.

I looked at it, then looked at Vitaly.

He was still screaming, and even though the room was warm, he most certainly was not happy about being out in the open where he could flail his arms.

“Okay,” I took the diaper, then opened it.

Then I studied Vitaly to see how best to pick him up and get his underneath of him.

“Here,” she said, placing it down on the table.

Then she lifted his legs, which pulled his little booty in the air, and placed him back down on top of the diaper.

“Now do it,” she ordered.

I did as she instructed, and I had to admit, I was quite proud of myself.

“It’ll get easier the more you do it,” she laughed. “Now I’ll teach you the art of swaddling.”

And damned if she didn’t swaddle Vitaly up like a little baby burrito.

She even did it better than Chipotle.

“Wow,” I said. “You’re good at that.”

She winked, then placed Vitaly into my arms.

His eight pounds felt like a solid, secure weight in my arms, and I wanted to hold him forever and ever.

Mig might protest that, though.

So I’d be nice and give him a turn…every once in a while…when I felt like it.

“Alrighty,” she said. “I’ve got your feet and hand prints. We can take him back to your room now, and I’ll bring you a bottle in just a few minutes so you can feed him.”

“Okay,” I said hesitantly.

She caught my hesitance and laughed.

I walked slowly out of the room, smiling widely when I was bombarded by men at least a foot taller than me.

“Let me hold him,” Peek demanded.

“No. He’s mine,” I glared at him.

Then skirted past him, walking into the room.

Sadly, I did end up giving him up to not only the Saints, but also Mig’s mother, father and Nonnie, as well.

I’d just gotten him back into my arms with a bottle in his mouth when Mig walked in.

He looked haggard.

Terrible, in fact.

His photos of this day would forever be a bittersweet reminder of Mig’s immense joy as well as his pain.

But the minute he saw me holding Vitaly, feeding him a bottle, his face split into a smile.

“You want him?” I asked when he made it up to my side.

I was sitting on the bed, reclining as I fed the baby.

He’d already scarfed down about a half an ounce.

“No,” he said. “My arms about to fall off, and I’m scared if I try to hold him, I’ll hurt either him or me.”

I scooted over, only then realizing that he was dead on his feet.

“Lay down,” I ordered him.

He didn’t argue, which only went to show just how poorly he was feeling.

He laid down next to me, completely ignoring the others in the room, and leaned his head against mine.

Then he fell asleep, his hand on my leg, just underneath where Vitaly was resting against me.

And he slept.

The others spoke around us, but I was lost in this new world.

A world where Vitaly Andrew the Third and Vitaly Junior were my sole focus.