#Jerk (23 page)

There’s chatter, chaos, and anticipation around me. Time becomes fuzzy and my eyes continue to watch the lights until the moment my heart jumps out my chest, singing a song of ecstasy. The moment the sound of my baby’s wail breaks the silence, and officially, we welcome a son into the world.

There is joy throughout the room, and I stretch my neck to see the little wrinkly baby lifted into the air, covered in goo. I am besotted and smiling through my tears at the beautiful sight. Moving my head to the left, I watch as they take him away to clean him up, rubbing him vigorously with a towel. Then the nurse wraps him up and calls Haden over. She hands him our son, and with a slow and careful pace, he walks over to me with a gentle smile and brings the baby closer so I can study him properly.

I am in awe.

He is the epitome of beauty, and everything else in my life becomes insignificant because this little baby has completely stolen my heart.

“Say hello to Mommy,” Haden whispers, bringing the baby close to my face. I stare at him in astonishment, and desperate to touch him, I rub my nose along his cheek and smell his soft skin.

He has broken me, but in a
good
way.

My ill feelings towards Haden wash away at this very moment because of my gratitude.

If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be experiencing a love so great. A love that consumes me whole.

I love him, more than life itself.

The baby, that is.

And maybe, somewhere very deep inside, the Jerk as well.

I
yearn for peace, silence, and a moment to take it all in. I yearn for life to stop, even if just for a minute, so I can stare at my son’s face and absorb the miracle that is this
beautiful
baby boy.

From the moment they wheeled me out of recovery and into my room, there was an endless stream of visitors armed with flowers, balloons, and blue, stuffed toys. It was like a nonstop circus. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline running through my veins, the circus would have gone on around a sleeping Presley.

It wasn’t just the visitors, but the nurses as well. They bustled around me, doing their rounds and checking on the baby and me. Haden, being the stubborn jerk he was, refused to leave the room, wanting to make sure everything was okay. But I had to put my foot down during the breastfeeding tutorial. My boobs out for show and a baby that had difficulty latching on due to his size was something I didn’t want Haden seeing. Of course, my wishes weren’t respected; I found out that he went to the nurses’ station to ask questions about my boobs and the nurse happily went on and on about them.

Yeah, I’ll just lay here and pretend I didn’t hear any of that.

The baby was doing great, considering how early he’d arrived. The doctor was happy with his growth and breathing, recommending that I stay in hospital for only another week as long as he saw progress and no complications. It was a giant—and I mean GIANT—learning curve for the both of us, and I was surprised that Haden caught on to the whole bath, nappy, burping, swaddling routine so quickly.

He visited after work every day, armed with something new for the baby each time, and a little something for me. We had the routine down pat; I texted him what I wanted for dinner and he snuck it in every night. I figured, if I was going to die of a heart attack by eating the greasiest burgers that existed, I might as well do it while I’m already in a hospital! Okay, stupid guilt attacked me afterwards when I remembered that everything I shoved in my mouth went straight to the baby. It was all rabbit food from that moment onwards.

It’s a couple of days after the birth that I meet Haden’s mother for the first time and am officially introduced to Mr. Sadler as his stepfather,
David
. Mrs. Sadler (Liz) seems nice enough, and just like Haden said, she’s a lot like my mother. I can see where he got some of his looks from, but according to her, Haden is the spitting image of his late father.

Like any proud grandparent, Liz refuses to put the baby down and gives me endless advice on how to swaddle. Who would have thought that my whole life would one day revolve around swaddling? Half the time, I’m worried she’ll swaddle him to death with how tight she wraps his little body. But I soon found out the why she does; my kid is a wriggler. He wriggles his way out of every swaddle unless you wrap him like he’s in a cocoon.

Mrs. Sadler picks him up, rocking him back and forth in her arms.

“Presley, I can’t thank you enough for bringing our beautiful grandson into the world. Look David, doesn’t he have Haden’s eyes?”

“He looks just like him.” Mr. Sadler smiles.

In all fairness, the Jerk
is
beautiful, so I guess that’s not a bad thing. When I first laid eyes on my son, he looked like a wrinkly old man, but as the days passed, certain features started forming and he looked more and more like Haden. Except for the hair. It’s curly, and we all know where that came from.

“When Haden was born, he cried for days on end. Nothing would settle him.”

“What was wrong with him?” I ask.

“He had terrible wind.”

“Gee Mom, thanks for telling everyone that,” the Jerk complains, sulking in his chair like a spoiled child.

The nurse, who is taking my blood pressure, snickers as she writes down my results. Mr. Sadler appears amused but doesn’t want to anger Haden. Ignoring his mother, he takes out his cell and busily types away. He mentions something to Mr. Sadler about an email that got sent through.

“Please, enough of the business talk. Can the two of you please enjoy this moment?” Mrs. Sadler pleads with Haden and Mr. Sadler. “Now, as I was saying earlier, it’s perfectly natural for a baby to experience wind.”

“Yeah, I know that,” he grunts. “Just lay off all the Baby Haden talk.”

It’s late afternoon and with many visitors already gone, I yawn as the exhaustion creeps in. Haden leaves to get something from the cafeteria, but walks back into the room not long after, carrying coffees. He hands them to Mr. and Mrs. Sadler, then asks me if I want something. I shake my head, and as much as I would kill for that coffee, the last thing I need is a baby who’s wired up and awake all night long.

“So, do we have a name yet?” Mrs. Sadler coos, rocking the baby gently.

And then we’re back to the problem with the baby’s name. I had some thoughts on boys’ names, but Haden was quick to shut them down. Annoyed at his input, he too would mention names that would make my eyes roll at the lack of thought put into them.

“Are you just naming superheroes now? What’s next, Bruce Wayne?”

“He’d be the coolest kid in school.”

“No.” I put my foot down.

The argument continues on for days, and even after my parents, Gemma, and Melissa arrive, they too end up leaving without knowing the baby’s name.

The nurses seem amused that six days in, Baby Boy Cooper is still nameless, which prompts another argument. I want the baby to be Malone, and Haden, of course, argues for it to be Cooper.

“The baby will be with me all the time. I don’t want people calling me
Mrs. Cooper.”

“Well I don’t want people calling me Mr. Malone.”

I growl in frustration. How can someone so good-looking be so damn stubborn?!

He takes the baby from my arms and sits in the armchair beside me. “I’ve got a name.” He smiles hopefully.

I roll my eyes,
again
, at this back and forth debate. “Clark Kent?”

“No, this is...it’s my dad’s name.”

“Your dad?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

I have learned one thing about Haden; he doesn’t like to talk too much about his dad. It’s a sensitive subject, and one which I never pushed. When he does talk about him, I simply listen. He admires him so much and only ever speaks fondly about him. I get it; he misses his dad terribly, and it was so tragic to have lost him that way.

“
Masen.”

I stare at our little boy’s face, as he’s nestled in Haden’s arms. I say it out loud, and the moment I do, I know it’s our baby’s name. Everything about it fits perfectly, from the way it rolls off Haden’s tongue when he says it, to the look on his face when he calls him that for that first time.

“Masen. I like that. Masen Malone Cooper,” I agree. And just like that, our beautiful baby boy has a name. It’s the only thing we have ever agreed on, but that doesn’t matter. It’s the most important decision, and for once we made it together.

“Your cell’s been beeping, like fifty million times,” I tell him.

Haden had fallen asleep on the lounge chair midway through his routine visit with me. Honestly, he looks completely worn out. From what Vicky told me, he had been returning to the office every night to wrap up all the work that I didn’t get a chance to hand over and to finalize details on
Fallen Baby
before it goes to print.

“Huh, what?” Dazed, he removes his glasses and rubs his eyes.

“Your cell,” I speak slowly. “It beeped a million times.”

He pulls it out and looks at the screen, then immediately places it back in his pocket.

I fix my blanket and find the courage to ask the question that’s been eating at me.

“So, Eloise. Is there a reason she hasn’t visited the baby yet?”

He turns to face me. “She sent you flowers.”

“I know. I’m asking why she hasn’t visited, because according to her, you two are getting married this coming weekend.”

He diverts his attention back to his cell, removing it again from his pocket. He doesn’t say anything for a while and I’m left wondering what the hell happened. The last thing I want is another argument, and just as I’m about to drop it altogether, he says, “The wedding has been postponed for another month. She didn’t think we should go ahead with it yet, given the added stress right now.”

“What stress? You’re not lying in a hospital bed with stitches,” I remind him.

“I mean for her.”

“Right. It’s always about Eloise,” I mumble, resenting him for thinking about her well-being over mine.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you still never denied what she told me the day my water broke. Is it true you want joint custody? Is it true you’re trying to have a baby with her?” I question, raising the pitch of my voice as I plead for answers.

Standing up, he moves towards the window and glances outside, his back towards me. He is still dressed in his grey pants and a white shirt, abandoning his tie as he does every night.

In front of the window, his body stands tall, and for a moment I wonder what it’s like to lean my head against his back and wrap my arms around him. I snap back to reality as soon as he opens his mouth.

“It’s true about the joint custody. I’m scared, okay? I have no idea what to expect. I don’t want to be a dad that visits his kid every other weekend. I want to see him every day,” he stammers, unable to control the emotion behind his admission.

“And the baby stuff? About you trying?”

“I was drunk and off my face on some shit Marcus gave me. I would have told the homeless guy around the corner I wanted to have babies with him.”

This changed everything, but it shouldn’t have. He provided an explanation to the questions that have haunted me ever since my lunch with Eloise. But the big question, the one still yet to be answered properly, is why is he still marrying her? I’m in the mood to ask again, and frankly, I’m sick and tired of lying in this bed. I miss my real bed. I miss
being a normal, functioning human that can shower without the assistance of a nurse. And most of all, I miss everything about the former Presley who had her whole life planned out.

“I’m tired,” I yawn, turning my back to him.

“I should probably go.”

I cover the rest of myself with a blanket and nestle my head into the pillow. With Masen fast asleep, I’m hoping to catch a few extra hours of sleep tonight myself.

Haden walks over to Masen and kisses him gently on the forehead. With a placid smile, he walks around the bed, ready to leave the room, but just before he does, I blurt out to him, “You can see Masen every day, I promise you that. We’ll make this work, Haden.”

He stops just shy of the door and turns back to face me. Not saying a word, his lips curve upwards and he gives me the most genuinely heartfelt smile. The
Haden
smile that always melts my insides, triggering those butterflies to spread their wings and flutter in delight. I smile in return, and without any more words left to say, our actions speak the loudest.

It’s the biggest commitment we can make, the commitment to raise our child
together.