“You hold her fucking hand, Declan. I swear I’ll shoot you in the knee if you let go,” I threaten him as I take the emergency stairs down because I don’t have time for the elevator.
“Hurry, boss. Just fuckin’ hurry.” He gulps deep breaths. “Jesus, where’s the doctor?”
“Will you all calm down,” I hear another woman’s voice. “She’s still dilating. You’d swear the baby’s about to pop out.”
“Put me on speaker,” I order.
“Good to go, boss.”
“Kiara? Baby?”
“Tell me you’re almost here,” she cries.
“I’m almost there. Five minutes.” I say as I climb into the SUV. The phone connects to Bluetooth, so I can put it down in the holder. “You’re doing the breathing exercises, right?”
“God, Liam, I don’t have time to breathe.” I hear her groan, the sound agonizing.
“I’m almost there. Breathe with me.” I push the gas pedal to the floor. “In.” I listen as she takes a breath. “Out.” It wooshes from her, then she groans again.
“Don’t push yet,” the nurse says.
“It h-hurts,” Kiara sobs.
“Give her something for the pain!” I shout as I take a turn sharp, the SUV’s tail skidding.
Just then, I hear, “Mrs. Byrne, you’re a whole two weeks early.”
“Dr. Boyle, give her something for the pain,” I tell the man.
“Just about to give her an epidural,” he says, his tone comforting.
I find a parking space, and grabbing the phone, I hightail it out of the SUV. “I’m here. Where do I go?”
“Comin’ to get you, boss,” Declan says.
I end the call, tucking the device into my pocket, and jog through the entrance of the hospital.
I head in the direction of the maternity ward, figuring they’ll be in that area. When I see Declan jogging toward me, relief on his face, I ask, “Where’s she?”
“This way.” He flexes his fingers. “She’s got one hell of a grip.”
“Of course, she’s my wife,” I mutter, then finally walking into the room, I go straight to Kiara, taking her hand. Leaning over her, I press a kiss to her damp forehead.
She starts to sob and leaning closer, I whisper, “You’ve got this, baby. Break my hand if you have to. I know you can do this. Okay?”
“Don’t let go,” she whimpers.
Pulling back, I lock eyes with her. “Never.” I glance at Declan, who looks like he’s going to be sick. “Get out of here and call her mom.”
He runs out of the room, not able to leave quick enough.
Turning my attention back to Kiara, I keep encouraging her as the waves of pain hit, wishing there was a way I could take it from her.
An hour later, Dr. Boyle positions himself between my wife’s legs. I clench my teeth and hold Kiara’s hand tighter.
You can’t kill him. He needs to deliver your firstborn.
“When you feel the need to push, go ahead,” Dr. Boyle tells Kiara.
Her fingers flex around mine, her eyes locking on me.
“You can do this,” I encourage her again.
My phone starts to vibrate in my pocket, but I ignore it, all my attention on my wife. She begins to pant, her eyebrows drawing together. Placing my other hand behind her neck to help brace her, I say, “Come on, baby, you can squeeze my hand tighter than that.”
With a threatening scowl from her, she starts to groan, curling forward as she pushes. The sound is downright feral, then it morphs into a broken cry.
Jesus.
Leaning closer, I will all my strength to her, emotion flooding my chest.
Kiara’s in so much fucking pain to give birth to our child.
“Christ, I’ve never respected anyone more,” I say my thoughts aloud. “And you’ve never been more beautiful.”
She cries again, her fingers tightening like a vice around mine, making me feel the strength it’s taking from her to push.
“You’re so strong, baby. You’re almost there.”
It takes Kiara twenty more minutes, and by the time Dr. Boyle pulls our child from her, Kiara looks like death.
My heart races in my chest, worry clouding my vision. “Is she okay?” I ask, fear darkening my words.
“Your son is a healthy boy,” Dr. Boyle replies.
“Is my fucking wife okay?” I shout when Kiara drifts in and out of consciousness.
“Yes, her vitals are good. She’s just resting before the next round starts.”
My head snaps to him. “Next round?”
“The afterbirth.”
Jesus.
Our baby lets out his first cry, and instantly Kiara’s head snaps in his direction. She pulls her hand from mine, stretching out her arms. “I want to see him.”
“Just one more push,” Dr. Boyle says.
The final contraction hits, and Kiara barely has the strength to push through it, but she gets the job done. “Please… tell me it’s… over,” she gasps.
“All done,” Dr. Boyle smiles at her. “Well done, Mommy.”
The nurse wraps our baby up in a blanket and brings him over. My eyes dart between Kiara’s face and our baby, the moment too overwhelming. Tears slip silently down my face as I witness the wonder on Kiara’s face, then the wrinkled little being in her arms.