“Hey, Sunny.” Taking her hand in mine, I bring it up to my mouth and press a kiss on it. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I could sleep for weeks and still be exhausted.”
I huff a laugh. “I don’t see that happening for either of us any time soon.”
“You’re probably right.” She gives me a sleepy smile. “What time is it?”
“Little after seven,” I say before yawning and stretching my arms over my head. My back is stiff from sitting in this chair all night.
“How long was I asleep?”
“A couple hours,” I reply. “I’m glad you got some rest. You needed it.”
“Did you get any sleep?” she asks, concern wrinkling her brow.
I nod. “Woke up about fifteen minutes ago. Don’t worry about me, Sunny. I’m good.”
Charley’s been a champ all night, bearing through the pain and continuing to walk and bounce on the birthing ball, but she was exhausted. She finally got an epidural at around four in the morning, and I’m glad she did. I hate seeing her in so much pain, knowing there’s nothing I can do to take it away.
Grabbing her phone, Charley asks, “Have you updated our families?”
“Yeah. Right after you fell asleep, I sent a text to your parents and then one to my family.”
Her gaze lifts to meet mine, her icy-blue eyes bloodshot. “What did mine say?”
“Just that they’d come later this morning once they had a chance to wake up.” I rub the back of her hand with my thumb. “No stressing about your mom,” I add, raising a brow.
Rolling her eyes, she chuckles and teasingly says, “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Last month, Charley told her mom that she didn’t want anyone in the room, except for me, when it came time to push, and Alice wasn’t very happy about it. According to her, watching her grandchild be born was her “right” as a grandmother and Charley was stripping that away from her. I try really hard to be nice and polite to Alice, but she makes it so damn hard when she treats her daughter the way she does.
Charley hasn’t spoken to her mom very much since we told her parents she was pregnant. She and Jack came to the baby shower, and Alice made sure to remind us how much she hated that we weren’t finding out the sex. She just can’t help herself, inserting her opinion where it doesn’t belong. It’s no wonder Charley barely speaks to her.
“Graham, I think it’s time,” she says, her brows pinched as she grabs the phone attached to the bed and presses the call button.
My breath catches in my chest. “What? Why do you think that?”
She doesn’t have a chance to answer me before the nurse comes over the line. “How can I help you, dear?”
“Hi, uh, can you come check me, please?” Charley asks, her voice shaky. “I’m feeling the urge to push.”
“I’ll be right in.”
Charley’s eyes flit over to me, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Then she surprises me when she says, “Final vote; you thinkin’ boy or a girl?”
I breathe out a small chuckle. Over the course of her pregnancy, we’ve had fun every couple of weeks saying what we think the baby will be. When we first made the decision to keep it a surprise, I thought I’d hate not knowing, but it hasn’t been too bad, and now that we’re here, about to find out, I’m glad we decided to do it this way.
“Boy,” I guess, a smile curling my lips as the door opens.
“I think so too,” she murmurs.
The nurse comes over and checks Charley’s cervix, a wide grin on her face when she says, “It’s time to have a baby. I’ll go get the doctor.” As she leaves the room, more nurses file in. They set up the table with various medical tools, bring in the incubator, then gown and glove up.
“Time to meet our baby.” Charley’s voice is barely above a whisper, her eyes glassy.
Rising off the chair, I lean down and press a kiss on her forehead before meeting her gaze. “Time to meet our baby,” I parrot.
“I’m nervous,” she admits.
