Page 422 of Redeeming 6

I swallowed down my protests, refusing point-blank to argue with the girl that had been through eight hours of hell to give me a son. Instead, I nodded in support when she looked to me for reassurance.

“And his first name?” Trish pushed.

“Anthony,” Molloy said. “His name is Anthony Joseph Lynch.” Smiling, she added, “AJ for short.”

“But I’m Anthony,” Tony squeezed out, turning the color of his daughter’s Opal Corsa.

“Yeah, Dad.” Molloy rolled her eyes. “We know.”

“You’ve decided to name your son after the man who raised you,” Trish said proudly, giving her daughter a huge smile. “Oh, Aoife, that’s a lovely sentiment.”

“Actually, we decided to name our son after the man who raised the both of us,” I confirmed quietly. “Because, let’s face it, the only man I ever had to show me the way was your husband.”

Roughly clearing his throat, Tony looked down at AJ and sniffed. “I know exactly what that father of yours is trying to do, boyo,” he told my son, voice thick with emotion. “He’s trying to butter up old Grandad, isn’t he?” He pressed a kiss to my son’s forehead and smiled down at him. “Well, you can tell your father that it worked. Yes, you can. Tell your father that I expect his ass at the garage the minute your mother is home and back on her feet.”

My heart stopped in my chest.

Molloy turned to gape at me.

“But tell that father of yours that he’s on his last life,” Tony continued to say, speaking to me through my son. “And tell your old fella that your grandad has a Burdizzo on hand if he gets any notions about giving you a brother or sister before he finishes his apprenticeship and puts a ring on your mother’s finger.”

“Burdizzo?” Casey frowned. “The hell is that?”

“It’s what they use on farms to sever a bull’s testicular cord,” I strangled out, thinking back to something Podge once told me. “You can tell your grandfather that you’re going to be an only child.”

Tony smirked. “You can tell your father that’s a wise decision.”

“Oh my god, Dad,” Molloy grumbled, waving a hand around. “Just kiss and make up already. Everyone knows you’ve been miserable all summer without your little sidekick at the garage.”

“Well, it looks like I’ve a new little sidekick to keep me occupied,” Tony mused, fighting off Trish, who was trying to coax the baby out of his arms.

“You feel like going to the bathroom yet?” I asked, turning my attention back to Molloy. They’d removed her catheter a while ago and encouraged her to get out of bed and use the bathroom, but Molloy hadn’t budged an inch.

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

Wide-eyed, she gestured for me to come closer so that she could whisper in my ear. “I’m scared to move.” Shivering, she cupped my cheek, and whispered, “It feels like everything is going to fall out of me.”

My heart cracked.

“That won’t happen,” I tried to reassure her, tucking her under my arm. “You’ve just given birth, baby. It’s going to feel all kinds of fucked up, but I promise nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

“I’m covered in blood,” she whispered, hand trembling as she buried her face in my neck. “I’m disgusting.”

“You’re fucking beautiful,” I corrected gruffly before turning my attention to her parents. “Aoife needs a shower. Can you watch the baby?”

“I can take you, Aoife love—”

“No, I’ll take her,” I cut Trish off and said when I felt her daughter’s body stiffen in protest. “I’ve got this.”

“My legs feel like concrete,” Molloy mumbled as she gingerly climbed out of bed. “Nobody look, okay?”

“Okay,” all three of her visitors dutifully chorused.

“Joe, the bed,” she choked out when she was standing, eyes locked on the dried blood on the sheets.

“It’s grand.”

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