Page 19 of Fiend
“What the fuck is more important than Es—”
“This is your daughter, Mr. Anthony. She was delivered about twenty minutes ago and is in perfect health. She’s a whopping six pounds, four ounces, and nineteen inches long.”
Everything around me fades away to nothing. The useless muscle in my chest hammers away, breathing life back into me again, instantly filling my lungs with air. I clutch my chest once more, feeling the rhythmic beat under my palm.
I’m alive.
This is real.
This is fucking real.
“Mr. Anthony? Are you all right?” A small hand presses against my bicep, and I pull away from the unfamiliar touch. My eyes dart down to the small nurse in front of me, and my brows draw together, trying to remember what she said.
“What?”
“I asked if you were all right? Do you need to sit down? You look very pale.”
“Can I hold her?” I hold my breath, terrified of either answer I could receive.
“Of course. Follow me.” We both step into the small nursery. There are a few other bassinets with babies in them, but I only have eyes for one.
She leads me to a small, clear, plastic baby bed and steps off to the side. “Here she is. I’ll be right over here if you need anything.” At least, that’s what I think she said. I honestly couldn’t say for sure because the moment my eyes land on the tiny baby girl in front of me, I’m fucking done for.
If I wasn’t forcing myself to stay upright, I would’ve crashed to my knees the second my eyes landed on her. All of the breath is stolen from my lungs as I gaze at her—my baby.Our baby.
I bring my hand to her face but just before it makes contact, I freeze, Essa’s voice flooding my mind.
“You need to remember to wash your hands before you touch the baby and stuff. So they don’t get sick.” She points at the section in one of the many baby books she’s been reading non-fucking-stop.
“That seems like a bit fucking much, baby doll.” I quirk my brow at her while grabbing my tumbler of bourbon off the nightstand. I take a sip as I lean back against my pillow. She shoots daggers at me for my nonchalance, and I snort. “So tough, baby.” I’m mocking her, and she knows it.
She crawls across the bed on her hands and knees, and I bite my lip as I watch her hips and tits sway from the movement. Goddamn, she’s a fucking sight. Her belly is growing more pronounced every month that passes, and even though she’s only four months along, you can still clearly tell there’s a baby in there. My baby.
“You know how tough I am, Vin. And you fucking love it.” She crawls into my lap, and my hands find solace on her rounding hips. “Please just wash your hands, okay?”
I sigh but relent. “You know I will.” I’ll do anything for you.
She smiles, and her pale green eyes sparkle under the dim light of the bedroom. It’s times like this when I easily remember how bad I could’ve fucked up. She presses her front against mine and devours my mouth with hers, nipping my lip hard enough to pierce the thin skin.
I lower my hand and bring it back to my side. Chancing a glance around the room, my eyes land on a sink a few feet away, and I dart over to wash up. I’m still covered in filth from that motherfucker’s house, but this will have to do for now. I scrub all the way to my elbows to make sure I get everything, like Essa would’ve wanted.
Would want. Would fucking want, Vincent, you fucking idiot.
Nausea swirls in the pit of my stomach at the stark direction of my thoughts. I dry my hands and force the thoughts away as I hesitantly make my way back to my baby girl. The nurse that brought me in here comes to my side and glances down at the baby with me.
“Do you need help picking her up?” Her tone is soft, nowhere near judgmental, and I choose to swallow my pride because, at this moment, I need so much fucking help, it’s not even funny.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Please.”
“No worries. Go over to that chair and take a seat. I’ll bring her to you.” My face must show my confusion because she adds, “It’s a lot easier when you’re sitting down at first. You don’t have to worry about doing anything wrong. You just sit and hold her, and then, when you’re feeling more confident, you can move around. How does that sound?”
I don’t answer her with words, instead doing as she said and taking a seat in the surprisingly comfortable rocking chair in the corner. I feel like a big fucking oaf sitting here with my arms on the armrests, but before I can think too much about it, she’s placing my baby girl in my arms, situating her head just right, and stepping away.
“You got her?” she pauses a few moments for my answer but then says, “Yeah, you’ve got this. I’ll be over here. Just call for me if you need anything. And about your wife?” At the mention of Essa, my head snaps up. “I should have some news for you soon.”
I nod, so fucking thankful at this moment, I feel my throat swelling shut and my eyes burning with tears I refuse to shed, but they fall anyway.
I stare down at my baby girl’s face, so pink with a scrunched-up little nose. Her cheeks are round and puffy. Her head is covered in one of those ugly-ass blue and pink hats, but on her, of course, it’s adorable. I lift my hand and trail my index finger down her chubby little cheek, a smile blooming on my face when she twitches in my arms at the touch.
