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“Not until he’s old enough to have an opinion,” I chimed in, adding, “I’d like to sit in the rocking chair now.”
Talon helped me lower myself to the seat, and I rocked back and forth. Olivia put on soft electronica and pulled out her knitting needles and a half-finished sweater. She sat on a chair, knitting one of the arms.
Rio’s hand shot into the air like he was in a classroom. “It’s not too late to call him Rio the Second. We can call him Two for short.
Only Rio could make me giggle in the middle of a contraction. Talon just shook his head.
“We have a name,” I said.
“And?” asked Rio.
I paused in my steady rocking to nod up at Talon. “Tell them.”
He caressed my nape. “We’re calling him Jude,” he said. “Jude Talon Montgomery Esposito.”
It had been me who’d talked Talon into giving our son his family name. I firmly believed that if Esposito hadn’t kept me supplied with water and sandwiches, I might’ve lost the baby. Lemaire might’ve even preferred it—easier to sell me as a blood slave without the encumbrance of another man’s child. And Talon and I both liked the name Jude.
“I like it,” Twilight said.
Rio screwed his mouth to the side, considering. “I suppose two Rios would get confusing.”
Twilight’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “Plus, they broke the mold after you were born.”
“I know you’re dissing me,” he returned. “But you ain’t wrong.”
I chuckled and started rocking again.
After that, the contractions grew more intense. “Someone’s in a hurry,” Olivia muttered. She shooed Rio out—not that he tried to stay; the poor guy was looking green around the edges—and had me strip and get into the birthing tub with Talon and Twilight’s help.
The warm water helped. Olivia moved her chair and knitting to the side of the tub and told me how great I was doing.
An hour passed. Talon supported me through my contractions, and Twilight fed me ice chips in between. I wanted out of the tub, and Talon lifted me out while Twilight dried me with a fluffy towel.
I got back into bed, and Olivia stowed her knitting and checked me again. Her gray eyes crinkled up at me. “You’re ready to push, love.”
The contractions had taken over my body by then. I groaned something incoherent and bore down when she told me to, and at three thirty-seven a.m. on Valentine’s Day, Jude Talon entered the world with a tiny version of his dad’s growl.
Twilight said, “Aw,” and I exchanged a smile with Talon while Olivia cleaned Jude up and wrapped him in a blanket so that he looked like a cuddly, Maritime-blue burrito.
She handed him to Talon. “Say hello to your son.”
Talon swallowed. “My son,” he repeated, joy spreading like a sunrise over his face. He gazed down at Jude, one large hand palming his small head, the other holding him close to his chest.
“Hello, little guy.” He pressed a kiss to the baby’s still-moist forehead, then looked at me, his heart in his eyes. “Thank you. He’s beautiful.”
“He is, isn’t he?” I was aware of Olivia urging everyone else from the room, but all I could see was my two guys, their dark heads close together. “He has your hair,” I told Talon.
“Mm. I hope he gets your eyes, though. They’re blue right now. Well, kind of bluish-gray.”
“Mom says they’ll probably change.” I held out my arms. “Can I hold him?”
“Of course.” Talon gave Jude another kiss and laid him in my arms.
I nuzzled his cheek, inhaling his sweet, newborn scent. He settled against my breast with another cute growl, rooting around until he found my nipple.
“That one’s going to be a handful,” Olivia murmured from the foot of the bed.
Talon and I grinned at each other.
