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“Are you sure?” I hold up a hand to still the nurse. “Once we open the floodgates, they won’t ever close again. Maybe we can have another hour just to ourselves?”
She beams at me. “I love you so much for saying that, but we both know your parents will murder us if we don’t let them in.”
“That’s unfortunately a little too literal.” I nod to the nurse. “Give her ten minutes to finish then let them in.”
The nurse disappears back to the waiting room.
I walk to Dara’s side, watching my son feed, and feeling a swell of incredible pride. She leans against me, and together, we don’t say a word. There’s nothing to say—the child is all we need.
It’s strange how such a small thing can warp me in such an enormous way.
After a little while, Cillian finishes, and a few minutes later the doors open. I expect my mother along with my brothers, but instead, only my father enters the room.
Dara sits very still. Father’s dressed formally in slacks and a button-down. He seems older, his hair grayer, walking with a slight limp. I haven’t seen him in months—we’ve avoided the mansion as much as we could, only going there to visit with my mother, never to see my old man. I run my businesses, control my crew, and pay my dues to the family, but I’m left alone otherwise.
Father’s face is tense. He stares at Dara then at the child. He takes a step forward. “I heard it was a boy,” he says.
“Cillian.” Dara moves so he can see my boy’s face. “Do you want to hold him?”
A sudden sharp anger rips into me. I want to tell her to stop—this man can’t touch my child. This bastard, this asshole, this psychotic monster.
But Dad nods, his face softening. “Please. I haven’t held a baby in—well, it’s been a long time.”
Dara shifts Cillian. I take him, cradling him in my arms, and walk him over. “Got him?”
Dad takes him, supporting the head, marveling at his grandson. “He’s beautiful,” Dad says.
Most of my anger drains away. Dad’s looking at Cillian the same way I look at my boy, with pure love and devotion.
“He’s perfect,” I agree.
Father stands in silence, bouncing Cillian, making soft cooing sounds.
Until the doors open, and everyone else floods in.
Mother, Carson, Nolan, Liam, Kathryn, and Genna all pile inside. Dad hands Cillian off reluctantly to Mom and the pair of them congratulate Dara and me—though I didn’t have anything to do with it. Meanwhile, Genna and Kathryn sit with Dara, chatting with her about the experience.
“No way in hell am I going to push one of those out my cooch,” Genna says, glaring at Cillian. “He is cute though.”
“Ah, come on, Genna,” Carson says, grinning at her. “You just need the right man.”
“Say that again and I’ll make sure your manhood ends up flushed down the toilet.”
Carson barks a laugh, delighted.
I stand beside my wife, surveying our friends and family, the people we love most in this entire world, as they gravitate around our child. Even Liam shakes my hands and nods, which is about as friendly as he ever gets.
“Why don’t you come to Sunday dinner in a week or two,” Dad says, standing stiffly by my side. “Bring the boy.”
“We can do that,” I say, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”
“We’ll discuss business then.” He hesitates. “But I’m happy you two are happy.”
I exchange a look with Dara. That was like watching a pig fly.
Mother kisses my cheek and whispers, “Looks like the baby changed everything. I knew it would. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
