Page 122 of The Killer Card

I take out my phone the moment Clara releases me to search for hers in the couch.

Epilogue

Graham, Five Months Later

“Coño, Naomi, slow down.” I reach for her hand, pulling her back to my side. “He’s quite literally not going anywhere. Relax, before security thinks you’re here to kidnap the damn kid.” I nod pleasantly to a passing hospital cop.

Naomi huffs, checking over the stuffed puppy she bought months ago one more time as I hit the button for the elevator. There’s a horrible buzzing noise coming from somewhere in this hall and it’s driving me slowly mad as we wait the ten seconds for the elevator to reach the first floor.

“I’m sorry,” she says when we step in and she hits the button for the third floor two dozen times before I smack her hand away. “A whole new person just came out of my best friend, and I have been waiting five entire months to meet the little crotch goblin.”

“Maybe don’t refer to their son as a crotch goblin when we get in there,” I suggest with a snort, a hand at her back as we exit the elevator, my other occupied with a basket of snacks Naomi picked out for Poppy.

She snorts. “I’ve been calling him a crotch goblin for months. He will be my little crotch goblin forever. Nelly thinks it’s cute. You know how she likes her fantasy shit.”

“And Elias?”

“It’s growing on him. Room three-oh-nine,” she tells the nurse at the reception desk.

She buzzes us through and the nurses at the desk inside the ward point us in the direction of Poppy’s room. There are already voices floating from inside when I push open the extremely heavy door.

“Look at your little toes,” Clara coos. “I could just munch, munch, munch on them all day.” Her blonde curls are tied back as she hovers over the clear bassinet stationed next to Poppy’s bed. Elias is sitting next to his wife on the bed, his arm around her shoulders.

Despite looking exhausted, neither of them have ever looked happier, turning bright smiles our way as we enter the room. Naomi shoves the stuffed puppy into my arms to rush her friend’s bedside. She hugs Poppy carefully, kissing her raven black hair a thousand times.

“Look at you!” She squeals. “How are you?! You look amazing! How’d it go?! Is your vag okay?!”

“Aye Dios…” Rowan mutters, turning to take the basket from me. He sets it on the counter under the tv. “She really needs to ask that immediately? Just throw it out there?”

“I mean,” I shrug. “Valid question?”

Clara glances over. “She needed seven stitches.”

We both wince at the same moment Poppy tells Naomi that everything was fine. “I mean, it was pretty fucking horrible up until the epidural, but holy shit those drugs are amazing.”

“Yeah they are- OW!” Rowan elbows me in the ribs.

To get away from him and his violent elbows, I join Clara by the cradle looking down at the new member of our family. “Hola, mijo,” I reach out to adjust his hat and note the full head of dark hair. “Aw, Elias, he has your original hair.”

Elias laughs, kissing his wife’s equally dark head. However, it appears he very recently got his hair rebleached for the occasion of his son’s birth. “Yes, well, hopefully he develops his mother’s eyes.”

Poppy smiles, her blue eyes glimmering in the afternoon sun through the window. “I’m not holding out hope. Cristian got your eyes too thanks to those strong Santos genes.”

Naomi joins me at the bassinet, tears filling her eyes the moment she see his peaceful little face. He’s bundled up tight in the blue blanket we got him, his name in cursive scattered amongst various sea animals.

“Hi, Gabriel,” she murmurs softly. “I’m your Tía Naomi.” I smile slightly. She spent weeks repeating it over and over when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. “Tía Clara is your godmother, but only for now. One day she’s going to die and then you’ll be all mine—”

“I already wrote the letter claiming you murdered me,” Clara whispers just as sweetly, as if they aren’t discussing each other’s demise over a newborn. “Maybe if you weren’t such a stuck-up bitch she would have picked you first—"

“Kiss my dick, blondie—”

“Both of you relax,” Rowan rumbles, taking a seat on the couch that will become Elias’ bed for the next few days. “No one is getting him because both his parents are going to live a long happy life and you two are going to spoil him rotten regardless of who has what title.”

Naomi and Clara share a look before nodding. “True.”

Poppy laughs, a tired but joyful sound. “You can hold him,” she tells us. “He might wake up a little, but he won’t fuss much. He already ate.”

“Me first!” Naomi and Clara both reach at the same time but I push both their hands away before either can actually grab the baby.