Page 139 of Wicked Love

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

WELCOME TO THE WORLD

BOWIE

It’s the wee hours of the next morning. The hospital room feels like a furnace, and unfortunately, nothing I do cools the room. One of the nurses said they’re having issues with the HVAC. My shirt sticks to my back, and there’s a fine sheen of sweat on my forehead. Poppy’s cheeks are flushed, her hair damp at the temples. She’s exhausted. I lean over her, trying to blow cool air in her face, desperate to do something—anything to help.

“Your breath is hot,” she mumbles, eyes squeezed shut, and I jerk back.

Right. Of course it’s not helping. I feel useless, my heart hammering against my ribs. How do I fix this for her? I’m supposed to be her rock right now, and I’m floundering.

What if I can’t do this? I’ve been a good dad to Becca, but I started from a place of fear and uncertainty, and now here I am again, starting over with a brand-new baby. I’ll have two kids, just like my dad. Two souls depending on me. And Poppy, the love of my life, counting on me to be steady.

I stare at her face. Her beautiful, angelic face. She’s breathing through a contraction, her jaw set as she stares at me with resilience in her gaze. She’s so much stronger than me. She’s the champion here, the rock. And she’s looking at me with so much trust and love, it’s humbling.

Before I know it, her grip on my hand tightens, and the room moves into a blur of instructions and encouragement from the nurse. And then Dr. Talbot is there, smiling warmly.

“Are we ready to have this baby?” she asks.

“So ready,” Poppy grits out. She lets out a sound that’s both pain and determination, and my heart aches with how much I love her.

“You’re doing so amazing, Poppy. You’re incredible. I love you so much,” I tell her as she pushes.

When I see that little guy’s head for the first time, I start to cry, and then his shoulders slide out. I cut the cord and a tiny cry slices through the air.

He’s here. My son. Our little boy.

Dr. Talbot places him in Poppy’s arms and I’m torn between which one to stare at. My emotions are on overload. I kiss Poppy’s forehead.

“You did it,” I whisper.

We stare at him, his scrunched-up nose settling as he’snext to his mama, his tiny fists flailing. All earlier panic dissolves, and it’s replaced by something vast and quiet and warm. A knowing that sits deep in my chest. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be. All I have to do is love them the way I’ve wanted to be loved, and that’s already been established. I love them with all my heart.

Poppy and I exchange a trembling smile, tears in our eyes.

“He’s perfect,” she whispers.

“Yes, he is.”

“Jonas Everett Fox, welcome to the world,” she says.

We chose this name to honor our grandfathers. Jonas was my mom’s dad and my favorite grandpa, and Everett is Poppy’s.

“It fits him,” I say.

The next few hours are like living in a dream bubble. Poppy nurses the baby, and we stare at him and each other. Later, I hold Jonas while Poppy drifts in and out of sleep. I doze myself and when I’m awake, I’m surprised by my earlier panic, because this just feels like heaven.

It’s late afternoon when Mom brings Becca to meet Jonas. Poppy has washed up and looks peaceful as she holds Jonas bundled in her arms, his tiny face peeking out from the blanket. I can’t resist stroking his downy hair. He has a full head of hair—just like his dad, according to the nurses.

Becca steps forward slowly, her eyes wide and bright, as if she’s crossing into sacred territory.

“She’s been waiting for this moment all morning,” Mom says, “asking every five minutes if it’s time yet.”

Now that she’s here, she takes her time, each step smaller than the last until she’s close enough to see her baby brother.

I lean down and whisper, “Becca, this is Jonas, your baby brother.”

She tilts her head, studying him like he’s the most fascinating creature. She tries to whisper too, but it’s more of a whisper-shout, “He so little.” She looks up at me and then Poppy, as if needing confirmation.

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