Page 130 of Perfectly Naïve
“Hell yeah, they will.” Liam’s thumbs dig into my trapezius muscles as he looks down at me, love etched into the crinkle of his eyes and the soft smile that curves his lips. “I can’t wait to watch you conquer motherhood the way you conquer your lab.”
I hum and shake my head. “I don’t know. Somehow, I suspect decoding genetic mutations and anomalies is more straightforward than raising a child. Our cells may contain mysteries, but they don’t throw tantrums when you give them the wrong colored popsicle or suddenly decide they hate you when puberty hits.”
Liam chuckles. The sound rolls through my body, putting me at ease even now, when I’m sweating and overheated, thirty-nine weeks pregnant, uncomfortable, and scared. He has that effect on me. All of my mates do. And that’s why, despite my fears, I know I’ll be okay, and so will our baby. They’ll make sure of it.
“Don’t worry, gorgeous. You’ve got this. And we’ve got you.”
I smile up at him, my heart feeling almost as full as my pregnant belly. “I know you do. I love you.”
“Love you too,” Liam says.
“I love you more.” Wild places a slice of fresh watermelon in front of me with a wink. “That’s why I’m your favorite.”
“Oh, shut it.” Sawyer sets a plate of grilled corn on the table, then swats Wilder on the back of the head like he’s annoyed. But we all know he’s not. My boys were tight before I came into their lives, but over the last ten-or-so months, they’ve grown even closer. We’re a family in every way, and their brotherhood brings me so much joy.
“Children,” Hayes rumbles as he saunters over with the platter of steaks. “Behave.”
Henry and his packmates chuckle at my mates’ antics as everyone gathers around the table. My brother shoots me acommiserating look before turning to Sawyer. “Get it out of your system now, because you idiots are about to be dads, and my sister does not need to be parenting four overgrown idiots while she’s raising a newborn.”
The backyard fills with the sound of laughter and the grumbled retorts of my mates, who insist they’re one-hundred-percent ready to be the responsible dads I will need them to be. And I trust that they are. The four of them have been so sweet and supportive, signing us up for birthing classes, parenting classes, and reading every book about pregnancy and child development they could get their hands on. They pamper me and dote on me, and I haven’t even been able to wash the dishes without one of them telling me I shouldn’t be straining myself, then taking over.
It’s sweet. But it’s also driving me nuts. I’m pregnant. It’s a normal physical condition experienced by millions of women each year. I’m not an invalid.
Which is why, when Verity curses and exclaims that she forgot the potato salad in the kitchen, I offer to get it.
“Relax, baby, I’ll get it.” Sawyer tugs on my hand in an effort to get me to remain seated, but I shake him off.
“I can get it. I’m perfectly capable of walking into the kitchen, you know.”
Henry stifles a laugh. Verity whacks him on the chest with the back of her hand.
“It’s hot, your ankles are swollen, and your back has been bothering you,” Wilder cuts in. “Sit your cute butt down and let someone else do it.”
“I don’t want to let someone else do it,” I reply, my tone growing sharper. With my palms on the table for extra support, I heft my massively pregnant body into a standing position and push my chair back. “And if you all don’t stop hovering, I’m going to stab you in a nonessential artery. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll be right back with the potato salad.”
I level my mates with a challenging glare, give my ponytail an annoyed flip, and start storming away from the table.
I only make it three steps before I feel a slightpinch, then a faintpop, and then thick, sticky liquid is running down my legs.
There’s a beat of silence before Hayes's voice rings out. “Is that... Did you... Oh, shit.”
And all hell breaks loose.
In preparation for giving birth, I watched dozens of videos showing the different ways women bring life into the world. I saw people laboring in the ocean, hospital beds, inflatable pools in their bedrooms, and a handful of other settings and positions. I watched women give birth standing, sitting, prone, squatting. I even forced the guys to watch a video outlining the process of a cesarean in the event it became medically necessary for me.
Wilder puked after that one.
But I could have watched every single video on the planet as it relates to giving birth, and nothing would have prepared me for the rush of oxytocin, the instant overwhelm of love, or the soul-deep relief of having our squawking baby placed on my chest. Nor could those videos have prepared me for the way my heart would grow in size from watching the men I love fall for a tiny little human with a slightly misshapen head from spending a little extra time in the birth canal, and a voice that was made to be heard.
“She’s beautiful,” Sawyer whispers reverently as he strokes a finger down the bridge of her nose. “Look at her, baby. You made that.”
“We made that,” I reply. Because that night nine months ago, after Hayes promised to put a baby in my belly, all the restof my mates took turns contributing to the effort. And they succeeded. I’m not sure which of the guys is her biological daddy, but that doesn’t matter. Not to me, and not to them. She’s ours, she’s perfect, and she is deeply loved.
Hayes presses a long, heart-melting kiss to my head before his glassy eyes fix on our daughter. “Hi, sweet little angel. Welcome to the world. Daddy loves you so much.”
Wilder sniffles, a tear slipping down his cheek. He throws an arm over his twin and strokes my hair. He soaks in the moment and our daughter, and I know he’s tattooing it onto his heart. “I love you, smarty-pants. You did so good. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“Yeah,” Liam adds from the other side of the bed, where he’s gently rubbing the back of my neck. “You were amazing. God, that was scary, but you were focused and so brave.”
