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I fall back to watch as they line up to speak with him. He shakes each person’s hand, giving them his full attention. The full impact of those magnetic blue-green eyes that change with his moods. The country may have his attention now, but I’ll have his attention always. I’ll have to share him with the world for as long as he’s Prime Minister, and probably longer, since he’s going to be in some form of public service for most of his life; but I have no doubt, he’ll always place me and our family first.
Another spasm squeezes my belly, this time, with enough force that I gasp. I glance around, but no one has noticed me. For once, it pays not to be the center of attention. Hunter is probably the only one I wouldn’t begrudge that. After all, I got into PR not only because I like building up the media profile of my clients, but also because I’m an attention whore. The most satisfying time of my life was the last few months, not only because I got to spend so much time with Hunter on the campaign trail, but also because there was a personal connection to the work I was doing. Of course, I gave my best to every client, but with Hunter, I put everything of myself into the PR for his campaign.
I wanted him…needed him to win. I had gotten to know the man behind the public facade, and it was clear to me he would do his best for the country. He has the vision for a future that he will try his best to make happen. More than that, he’s genuine and loyal and wanted to use his intelligence and everything he has at his disposal to create a better future for the newer generation.
Sure, he comes from a moneyed background, but it is precisely that which made him selfless. For so long, I held his money and his privilege against him. I judged him, and by doing so, I was guilty of the same kind of mistake that I’ve berated others for when they’ve tried to pigeonhole me. I can’t be put into a neat category, and neither can Hunter. We’re both complex individuals, with many facets to our personalities. Our backgrounds are only one of them.
Now, I realize I was too quick to form an opinion of him when we first met, but Hunter has completely overthrown any preconceived notions I might have had about him. I know now that he’s the most tender, most possessive, most protective man I’ll ever meet. I also know he’s willing to cross the line between right and wrong to take care of me. Perhaps that should bother me, but somehow, I can’t hold it against him. The shades of grey to his personality only make him so much more interesting. Am I worried that it will spill over into his professional life? No, because it’s only me who brings out that part of his personality.
A third stab of pain cramps the entire lower half of my stomach. The pain is so hard, it’s as if I’ve been buffeted by a wave. I gasp and bend over. Simultaneously, liquid gushes out from between my legs and pools about my feet. I glance down at my now-drenched skirt in horror. I look up to find Hunter has turned toward me. He takes in my stance, and the way I’m gripping my sides. I straighten, draw in a deep breath. In two bounds, he reaches me and sweeps me up in his arms, again.
"Hunter, what are you doing? You’ll dirty your suit."
"Fuck that, I’m taking you to the hospital."
* * *
To say the next few hours were dramatic would be putting it mildly. He asked for the Prime Ministerial car—a massive Jaguar Sentinel—to be brought around the rear entrance. He placed me in the back seat, followed me in, and ordered the driver to take us to hospital. The security vehicle in front flipped on its siren, and I knew we were being followed by another vehicle. Two other members of his protection team on bikes flanked us, and we reached the hospital in under ten minutes.
He insisted on carrying me out of the car and into the emergency room, where we were instantly waved through. He held onto me until the doctors insisted he place me on a bed so they could examine me. They pronounced I was six centimeters dilated, and that we had time for the baby to come. That was ten hours ago.
I’ve spent the time alternating between the agony of the labor pains and the times in between when I’ve gathered my energy for the next push. And through it all, he’s held my hand, fed me ice chips, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. He didn’t even blink when I cursed him soundly for putting me in this position.
Karma and Summer, followed by Isla and Abby, popped their heads around to let me know they were waiting with me. I told them to go home—it could be hours still, before the baby was born—but they refused. My brother’s away on another cricket tour, but Abby mentioned she messaged him, and he’s on his way back.
I glance at Hunter’s face as he sprawls back in the chair next to my bed.
"You should go get a coffee."
"Not a chance," he growls.
"It could be some more time before—" I wince.
He leans forward, concern in his eyes. "You okay?"
I breathe through that now familiar pain traveling up my spine. Only this time, it builds and builds until it’s like a wall that’s pushing into me, shoving into me, cutting through me. I gasp, and must scream; perhaps, even black out a little. When I open my eyes, Hunter’s features are pale. The shadows under his eyes are pronounced, and there’s a drop of blood on his lower lip. "You hurt yourself, did you bite down on your lip?"
He opens his mouth, then closes it. "I’m never putting you through this again." His voice is hoarse.
"Famous last words." I laugh, then gasp again when the pain begins to build once more. "Oh, no, no, no, that’s too close."
His gaze widens. He reaches for the switch next to the bed. "I’m calling the midwife."
* * *
"He’s gorgeous." Hunter’s warm voice cocoons me like a balm.
After he called the midwife, it took another three hours for the baby to emerge screaming into the world. I was shattered, numb, and shell-shocked. My entire body feels like it was put through a concrete mixer. My insides felt like they were torn out…which, in a way, they were, I suppose. And then, the midwife placed the baby over my chest.
I touch his little nose, take in his eyelashes, the little snub nose, those pink lips, and I fall head-over-heels in love… For the third time in my life. I hold him, and a tsunami of love fills every fiber of my being. I miss Olly so much. He would have loved his younger brother.
I’ve been given a second chance with this little boy, and I’m going to do everything in my power not to screw it up. The tears slide out of the corners of my eyes. I’m unable to stop them as I gaze at my son. Hunter wraps his arm about me and pulls me into his chest, and that only makes me sob more. Then, the baby opens his eyes and looks at me; my breath catches in my chest, and I nearly swoon. Blue-green eyes. Hunter’s eyes look back at me, and I fall for my husband and my son all over again.
When the doctor places my son at my breast for his first feeding, he latches onto my breast with only a little coaxing. The sensation of him suckling at my breast brings forth a fresh round of tears. Hunter holds me until the sobs subside, and my son falls asleep while feeding. I carefully wipe his mouth, pull my hospital gown shut, and both of us stare at the wonder we created.
A buzzing sound fills the room. Hunter ignores it. It stops, then starts again. "I think you should get that," I murmur.
"If I do, it means I’ll have to go back to my responsibilities." His eyebrows draw down.
