Page 235 of Pucking Sweet

He takes my hand, squeezing it. “She’s good. She’s upstairs. Claribel is still with her. Poppy made me come down here and sit with you. You’ve been terrific company by the way,” he adds. “I haven’t been bored at all.”

I open my eyes. It could be day or night. I can’t tell because there are no windows in this room. Lukas is sitting at my bedside. This is still the ICU, so they’ve got him in the protective clothing—mask, gown, gloves. “Hey,” he says. “How do I look?”

“Better than me,” I mutter.

“Not possible. You’re a sexy beast.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost midnight.”

I pause for a moment, readying myself for the worst. “How bad is it?”

He shrugs. “You’ll understand more of the jargon than me, but they said the implantation went well, and your heart seems to be responding so far. Normal rhythm. Given the emergent nature of the incident, they wanna hold you at least overnight—”

“Wait—she’s upstairs?” I try to sit up but fall back with a groan.

Lukas puts a hand on me. “Whoa, easy there. Let’s not move just yet, yeah?”

Things still feel a little fuzzy and I’m so tired. “The baby—what’s happening?”

Even through the mask, I can see that he’s smiling.

“Oh god . . .”

“He’s perfect,” he says. “He was born around 6 p.m.”

I sigh with relief. Closing my eyes, I send up a prayer of thanks.

“He’s a little nugget,” Lukas goes on. “He only weighs, like, six pounds. I can’t remember the length. But he has ten fingers, two tails, and the cutest little flippers for feet, just like we wanted.”

I smile, opening my eyes again. “And Poppy?”

“Bud, she was a total champ. She cursed like a sailor and nearly broke my hand, but we got there in the end. She’s doing great. No complications. And Little Bud is happy and healthy. Wanna see?”

I nod.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials Poppy. “Here, lemme try to do a video call.”

She picks up immediately. “Hi, honey,” she says, her voice filling this room.

“Hey,” Lukas says through his mask. “I’m here with Coley. He’s awake.”

“Oh, thank god,” she says, the relief evident in her tone. “Let me see him.”

Lukas stands and leans over the side of my bed, keeping the camera facing us so I can see Poppy. She’s propped up in her own hospital bed, a pile of pillows behind her. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, and a silky floral robe is tucked around her shoulders. She looks beautiful. I take in my own tired features before my eyes are right back on her.

“Hey, honey,” she says at me. I know from her tone that she’s trying not to cry. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I admit. “You?”

“Oh, you know, the same.”

“Can I see him?”

She nods. “Yeah, Claribel was just changing his diaper. She’s bringing him over now.” There’s a bit of jostling as she moves the camera back. Then I see Claribel’s shoulder in the shot as she hands my son back to his mother. He’s swaddled in a little white blanket dotted with anchors. “Can you see him?” Poppy asks.

I nod, tears in my eyes. “You both look so beautiful, baby.”

---