The Surgeon's Miracle / Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell (28 page)

Blake loved her. With all his heart and soul.

When he’d slid the golden band on her ring finger last September, while standing on the dock with their family and friends on the bank, he’d said his vows to her. Love much brighter than the sunshine on the lake had shone in his eyes. Love real and wonderful and all-consuming.

The skin on her belly began pulling tight, warning the next contraction was starting. They were getting close. So very close to welcoming their baby into the world.

“Maybe we should have driven to Pea Ridge.”

Darby shook her head. For as long as she could remember she’d loved this house, had dreamed of someday owning it. Over the past few months she and Blake had made the house their home, taking pride in each room, taking pleasure in decorating the nursery just off their bedroom. Giving birth to their son here would just ice the dream cake.

Or so she’d thought, since she’d wanted to deliver naturally anyway.

As the pressure low in her abdomen continued to build, she admitted she was now seeing the attraction of an epidural.

Her stomach clenched. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

Blake glanced from the monitor strip to Darby’s gritted teeth. “Breathe.”

Unable to speak, she nodded, the intense pain ripping her body almost unbearable.

“Push, Darby. He’s almost here.”

Surely she’d die any moment from the pain?

“One more push.”

Darby pushed. And pushed.

Blake’s cry of awe, followed by another cry, was her reward.

“He’s beautiful, Darby.”

Darby’s gaze went to her red-faced son, lying on her belly. Blake cut and clamped the cord, wrapped their son in a soft cotton blanket, and handed him to Darby’s waiting arms.

“He’s perfect, Darby. Just like you.”

Darby was too wowed by the precious bundle in her arms to laugh at Blake’s “Just like you.” Someday soon she’d remind him of her “perfection”, but for the moment she could only stare at their baby. Jet-black hair covered his round little head. Ten fingers. Ten toes. The sweetest bow-shaped mouth. Perfect.

“Victor Charles Di Angelo.” Darby saidher son’s name out loud, holding the baby where Blake could see him, too.

“It’s not too late to name him Dillon.”

“Never.” She faked a shudder, knowing how pleased Blake had been at her suggestion of naming their son after his grandfather and her father.

“Don’t say I didn’t offer.” He winked, love shining in his eyes.

“I won’t,” she promised. “You’ve been offering for the past six months, despite my repeatedly telling you we aren’t naming our son after a high school mascot.”

Her gaze dropped back to the yawning baby in her arms. She couldn’t resist touching his cheek, running
the pad of her fingertip over the smooth softness. His unfocused dark blue eyes stared at her, stealing her heart.

“Welcome to your new home, darling.”

“He probably liked his old home better,” Blake teased, bending to kiss Darby’s cheek. “I know I certainly would.”

Darby shook her head. “You’re crazy, City Boy.”

“About you. Maybe Victor needs a baby brother.”

Meeting his gaze, she smiled, knowing where he was going with this. “Named Dillon?”

Grinning, he nodded.

Darby laughed, happier than she could ever remember being. Well, except for perhaps on her wedding day. Her wedding night. And quite a few days and nights since.

She laughed again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Darby. With all my heart.” He kissed her, then placed his hand over where the baby’s fist wrapped around her finger. “Thank you.”

She didn’t have to ask what for. She knew. Knew, and was thankful to Blake for the same things. Remembering what he’d told her that afternoon on the dock, she couldn’t agree more.

Home was where the heart was—and she’d come home to stay, for her own happily-ever-after.