Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2) (45 page)

I can’t help laughing. “I think he meant me, Owen.”

He looks confused then thoughtful, ending with a low chuckle. “Huh. Oh yeah. Probably. Look, I need a shower because I’m gross. Then we’re leaving. Sit down on the bed.”

I look at the bed, our beautiful duvet covering the lush mattress. “Urg...I’ll stand. I don’t want to destroy the bed with amniotic fluid.”

He doesn’t hear me. He’s already in the shower, and within minutes, he’s out again, towel-drying his sexy hair and running into our room, sadly covering himself with his boxer briefs, sweats, and a fitted T-shirt that makes me swoon a little. The baseball cap he puts on completes the ‘sexy boyfriend’ fantasy look and I grin. But my inappropriate thoughts are gone when a contraction hits me hard.

“Ahhhhh shit fuck shit!” I yell.

Owen looks tortured. He comes to me, rubbing my lower back, but I push him away.

“Jesus, Liv. You sound like a sailor,” he says quietly.

Wrong thing to say, pumpkin
.

Through clenched teeth, I say, “Owen, just go get my fucking bag. It’s fine. Just go.” I need to be left alone through this before I attack him.

After the contraction passes, I go out to meet him. The new, white Range Rover is at the curb, where it’s been the last month in preparation for the baby’s birth. We make our way downstairs and into the SUV, ready to meet our son.

“Push! Push! You’ve got this, Olivia. Just one more! I can see the head!”

I’m exhausted. I was in full-blown labor by the time we got to the hospital, which was only an hour ago. By the time IVs were put in and a bed was established, his head had dropped and I was dying to push. No time for an epidural, and the pain is excruciating.

Owen is at my head, his hand in mine, letting me grip the shit out of it. If he comes out of this without a broken finger, it will be a miracle. He doesn’t flinch. He just occasionally whispers something encouraging and loving in my ear, but that’s it. He’s just there...

“Baby, you’re doing great. I love you so much. Drew is going to be such a lucky baby to have such an amazing, strong, smart mommy. I love you. I love you,” he continues to whisper in my ear.

“Olivia, I need one more big push so we can get our little man out. He’s not going to love being stuck in there. Let’s get him moving!” Dr. Evans directs me.

I suck in a deep breath and push with everything I have. The quiet is pierced by a scream and I realize that it’s coming from me.

Suddenly, there is a sound I recognize.
The most amazing sound in the world
. It’s a cry. It’s my son’s cry.

“There he is, guys! He’s gorgeous—a beautiful baby boy!”

I start to sob. Owen leans over me, kissing my face, my eyes, my hands. He looks at me and he is openly crying too.

“Dad, do you want to cut the cord?” Dr. Evans asks Owen.

Owen stands straight and moves over to where Dr. Evans is holding our son. Drew is squirmy and covered in yucky stuff, but he’s healthy and ours. Owen cuts the cord ceremoniously, a proud smile on his face as he watches the doctor hand the baby to the nurse, who whisks him off, placing him under the warmer. We watch enraptured as they weight him, clean him off, and bring him over to me bundled in a soft, blue blanket. My little Drew is wearing a tiny blue hat on his little head and is the most precious thing I have ever seen in my life.

“Six pounds six ounces. Twenty-one inches long. He’s perfect.”

She hands him to me and I cradle my son in my arms for the first time. I spend a moment looking at him and can tell right away that he looks just like his dad. As I gaze down at Drew, Owen leans over and kisses the top of our son’s head, tears sliding down his cheeks, before moving up to give me a full kiss.

“Here he is. Andrew William Maxwell,” I say with a smile, wiping tears from my cheeks so they don’t fall in his face.

“Drew... Drew Maxwell.” Owen is absolutely dumbfounded.

Drew reaches up, and his little fist finds his mouth, suckling greedily.

“Sweetheart, hungry as he looks, this would be a great time to get him to latch onto you,” the nurse announces as she moves toward my bed. I nod and sit up tenderly with her assistance as she starts to position Drew and my breast so he can connect easily. Dr. Evans is apparently still working on the small tear I got which I didn’t even notice because I was so focused on the baby. As the nurse continues to get my increasingly irritated son latched on, I look up at Owen who is still crying, his eyes filled with wonder and awe as he watches his son struggle for his supper. Eventually Drew latches on and falls into a contended sucking pattern, his mewls quieted now that he is finally getting some milk. I turn back to Owen whose eyes move from where they were on the baby, back up to my gaze. I smile at him with pride when his face becomes serious. I wrinkle my brow.

“Owen? You okay?” I ask. I’ve heard of men passing out during childbirth, and I wouldn’t put it past him to have that happen.

“Marry me.”

My breath hitches. Actually, I stop breathing altogether.
What did he say?
It was barely audible, I must be hearing things.

“What did you say?”

“Marry me. Olivia. Please, God, marry me.”

He leans down and pushes his head between me and the baby, into the crook of my neck. I feel my neck become moist from his tears, and suddenly, I’m crying too.

This is surreal. My son is greedily sucking on me on one side, my gynecologist is stitching my vagina, and my boyfriend is sobbing into my neck.

He finally lifts his head to look me in the eyes. “Why did I wait? What am I waiting for? There is nothing, can never be anything, as perfect as this. As you. As this child. I don’t know what I was waiting for. Thank you for waiting for me. But I don’t want to wait anymore. Marry me. I know this is a shitty proposal. I’ll do it again. I promise. I just can’t leave here not knowing you’ll be my wife, that you’ll have the same last name as our son.” His crying borders on sobbing, and mine isn’t far behind.

“This has to be the best moment of my entire career and the best proposal I have ever heard” says the nurse, grinning from ear to ear. I notice now the entire room is quiet and staring at us. “Say yes, dear!” she yelps.

I look back at Owen, down at my beautiful son, who has fallen asleep, and back up to my man. My amazing, sexy man.

“Yes. Yes, Owen. Yes.”

TWO YEARS LATER

I SLOWLY COME DOWN the stairs, Reese behind me, holding my train to keep me from face-planting down the stairs. High heels, carpeted stairs, long dresses, and emotions aren’t a good combination for making it down in one piece. We finally get close to the bottom, and a hand materializes in my line of sight. I look up to find my father reaching out for me.

“Easy does it, Livvy,” he says with a smile.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

I grasp his hand and take the last two steps, moving to the side so Reese can follow and place my dress down. Every woman dreams of this day. Plans for it. Fantasizes about it. Creates extensive Pinterest boards in preparation for it. I am no different. And so far, it’s been everything I could have hoped for. Traditional? Not so much. But what’s the fun in that?

I hear music coming from the backyard and my heart starts to race. It’s almost time. I run my hands down the front of my dress, smoothing the lace. My dress is amazing. I didn’t want a big froufrou dress. To be honest, I never have. So I opted for a body-hugging, blush, lace dress with a very low-cut front but elegant cap sleeves. The train isn’t too long, but it’s just enough. My veil is of matching lace, my heels strappy and Louboutin. I have my hair up in an elegant twist that has been made to look undone, tendrils of hair loose at the front.

As I make my way toward the back of the house, ready to greet the crowd and my soon to be husband, I hear a squeal and see Emily come around the corner with a very squirmy, very loud little boy. I am unable to control the smile that comes across my face or the visceral reaction I get when I hear that little voice.

I stand still, waiting for him to see me. He hasn’t seen me dressed up, and I’m curious what his reaction will be. Emily is prepared to keep him corralled so he doesn’t destroy my dress before I go out, although, I wouldn’t mind.

Suddenly, two big, blue eyes find mine.

“Mommy!” His little arms reach out to me as Emily brings him closer.

“Hey, little man. You ready to walk down the aisle?”

“Mamma’s a printhess!”

My eyes tear up just a bit. Doesn’t every mother love knowing that their son thinks they look like a princess?

Drew is just about two years old, and he is a carbon copy of his father. Blazing, blue eyes, dirty-blond hair that has a perfect wave to it, and a smile that has the angels singing in heaven. Granted, I’m a little biased, but he’s the cutest kid alive.

“Come here and give Mommy a hug and kiss before we go get Daddy out there.” I hold my arms out to him as Emily puts him down.

He runs to me and throws his arms around my legs in a hug that nearly topples me over.

“Whoa, buddy! Come here.” I lift him up and snuggle him close to me. Nuzzling his ear, I whisper to him, “Listen, you handsome boy. You have a super-important job, okay? You and Auntie Emily are going to walk out there with the fancy pillow we showed you and you’re going to go stand with Daddy until I come out. You think you can do it like we practiced?”

He pulls away and holds my cheek with one hand, giving me a nod and a big smile.

“All right, baby. I love you. See you in a bit.”

Drew leans forward and plants a big, wet kiss on my lips, holding my face with both hands now. My heart is full to bursting.

“Love you, Mommy.”

“Okay, big guy. It’s time for us to start walking down that aisle! Let’s get to it!” Emily takes Drew from me, gives me a kiss on the cheek and a, “Good luck,” before they disappear through the sheer drapes that have been hung at my parents’ Dutch doors to shield the crowd from seeing me before I come down the aisle.

My father comes up beside me and puts his arm through mine. “You ready, Livvy?”

I take a deep breath. “I have been for a long time, Daddy. Let’s do this!”

He gives me a kiss on the cheek, and we move until we are just behind the drapes, waiting for our cue so I can go join my son and the man I will love for the rest of my life.