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I fight the conflicting turmoil: the aching need to hold Sky, the chest tightening need to see my son, and the head pounding fury at Lily.
When Jem first called, I listened in shock as he gave shaky details. Jem told me he was at the birth, and I had images of him in the delivery room, half-pissed off it was him and half-relieved somebody was there for her.
No. It’s fucking worse than that. My heart leapt several feet across the room when Jem said he hadn’t told me everything. My mind scattered with fear: the baby was sick, Sky was badly hurt, either or both of them were dying. In Jem style, he calmed me down and gave perfunctory details. Mine and Sky’s baby was born in our bathroom, only Jem there, and scant words about Lily’s presence. He mentioned he’d tell me later, but everything was okay, and the police had her.
A son. That’s fucking surreal. All these months I’ve pictured a daughter; looked at Quinn and wondered if they’d be friends as close as me and Jem. Sky and me chose pink and dresses and oh so much little girl stuff. We don’t even have any boy’s names picked out.
The torturous journey from France drags, and my repeated attempts to call Sky are answered by nurses. I arrive in the early hours, relieved I didn’t need to navigate busy daytime streets too.
Resisting the urge to burst into Sky’s room, I slowly open the door and peek in. She sits up in the large bed, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the door. The minute she sees me, she throws the bed sheets to one side and struggles to climb from the bed. I’m with her before her feet touch the floor. Her body sinks against my chest, and Sky grasps at me as she buries her face into my jacket.
“I’m sorry, Sky, I’m so fucking sorry. I never thought... we didn’t think.”
“I know. It’s fine.”
I lift her face from my chest, so she looks into my eyes. Her tear-streaked face pale and exhausted. “Are you okay?”
“Everything’s weird,” she says. “Like it didn’t happen to me.”
I glance around the room. “Where is he?”
“In the nursery.” I stiffen. “No, sh— he’s fine. Just a precaution, but they aren’t worried.”
I dig my hands into my hair. “Why did this happen?”
“Just one of those things. Pregnancy’s unpredictable, isn’t it?”
“Not because of what Li...?”
Sky’s face hardens, and I refuse to bring the woman into our moment. “Would’ve happened anyway.”
“And Jem. Shit, that’s insane.”
Sky laughs. “Poor Jem. I don’t think he’ll ever look at me in the same way again.”
“Did he hold the baby?”
Sky curls a hand around my fingers, her understanding interrupting my jealous thoughts. Jem held my son before I did. “Jem helped us.”
A gentle knock at the door interrupts the moment, and I blink back to where we are. The door opens, and a woman stands in the doorway holding a tiny figure wrapped in a white hospital blanket. My heart swells to explosive levels as I stare at the nurse approaching us.
“He’s doing well. I thought you’d like to meet your son.” The young woman’s smile beams towards me, and I’m lost to everything apart from the impossibility in front of my eyes.
My baby. My son. I reach out, and the nurse carefully places him in my arms. Soft, dark hair pokes from beneath the blanket, and I’m stunned when I look down. He’s tiny; his head would fit in my hand. He weighs nothing to me, but this child in my life will be the heaviest responsibility I’ll carry.
I touch his face; the warmth and softness confirm this is reality. The silence wraps around us, holding me to him.
“Hey, little guy,” I whisper and place my lips on his head. He smells odd, in an amazing way, sweet and warm, unlike anything I’ve come across before. But this child is unlike anything from before. He snuffles against my cheek, and alarmed, I pull my head back. His mouth moves, and his eyes open.
I swallow down the thick emotion gathering, eyes welling, as I move him closer to meet his eyes. Blue eyes. Sky’s eyes, as if looking into another piece of myself the way I have since the moment Sky let me in.
I don’t care who sees, who watches, who anybody tells when a tear escapes. I swipe it away with my free hand unable to look away from him. I’ve waited months for this moment, spent days imagining him, wanting our baby with us.
I have a family.
Sky touches my jacket sleeve. “Dylan.”
I look back, useless, not knowing what the hell I do next. Do I give him to Sky? The nurse?
