Page 93 of A Baby for the Firefighter
I looked to Griff’s brother, who had entered the room about twenty minutes ago. “It’s fine,” he said with a small smile. “Just means we’re getting there.”
Getting there, right.
“You don’t have to worry so much,” Griff agreed.
Eli laughed softly. “Alphas are always like that.”
I huffed, but couldn’t really protest. Iwasacting ridiculous. Griff was going to be fine, I knew that. I just didn’t like watching him suffer when the contractions hit harder and he got all red in the face. That was when it started to dawn on me how exhausting it really was to give birth.
I hated seeing my love like this. Especially when there was nothing I could do to help him or make him feel better. In the end, I could only hold his hand as they rolled him into the delivery room.
“Not long now,” I told him, trying not to panic myself. Not long now and the two of us would be parents.
Deep breaths.
I couldn't freak out when Griff looked so calm. Sure, he was red in the face and the contractions were taxing him, but in spite of all that, he didn't seem like he was the least bit worried.
“I can't wait to meet this little one,” he said in between breaths when the doctor asked him to push. He was optimistic. That was what I loved about him. He wasn't going to let negative thoughts or panic or worry cloud the birth of our child, so neither could I.
He gripped my hand tightly and I squeezed his. It didn't matter whether I was scared or not. What mattered was that we were together in this. And together we would raise this child, in the good times and the bad times. We might not be married, but we absolutely made that commitment to each other. I knew that I could count on him, just the same as he could count on me. No matter what happened, we would be there for our child and each other.
All in all, the birth didn't take long once we'd entered the delivery room and really got things started, even though it felt that way. Time seemed to stretch out forever when I had to watch Griff suffer—and when I was pretty sure that he was about to break the bones in my hand. I was actually starting to wonder if I could reuse his cast if that happened.
But then, when I was almost sure it was never going to end, I heard the doctor say that we were almost there.
Thank God.
Now there was a chance that I wouldn't someday have to tell my kid the story of how I fainted in the delivery room during his birth.
Griff cried during the last push, and then soon after, I heard a different cry—this one much louder. Our little boy had great lungs on him!
After all the panic of the day, a huge smile broke out on my face.
The doctor was holding our child. And he was perfect. I knew that before I could even get a closer look at him. He had two arms and two legs and everything.
It wasamazing.
We’d made that.
Griff looked just as fascinated as I did when a nurse finally handed him our son after wrapping him in a tiny blanket. But fascination wasn’t the only emotion apparent on Griff’s face. I also saw awe and adoration and the kind of love that went deeper than anything else. I knew exactly how he felt because I felt the same way.
“Do we have a name?” I asked.
“Yes.” Gently, Griff stroked the little one’s cheek with one finger. “Bastian.” He looked at me. “Bastian Everett.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, not because I didn’t like what I was hearing, but because he’d made no mention of the middle name before.
“Everett means strong,” Griff explained. “I want our son to be strong and brave.”
The sentiment made me smile as I leaned down to kiss Griff’s forehead. “Like us?”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
“I like that,” I said, my heart swelling as I looked at both my omega and my son. Griff was kind and sweet, but he’d had his fair share of demons to battle to get here and I couldn’t have been more proud of him. Of us. We’d put our fears aside to be with each other. It hadn’t always been easy, but the result was so worth it.
I kissed him again, this time on the lips, feeling happier than I’d ever been. Griff was my love, the second half of my heart, my best friend and the father of my child.
He was my home, and I was never going to leave again.
