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When he leaves, I grab Rome’s hands quickly. “This is it,” I tell him needlessly. “Gods, it fucking hurts. My back is killing me.”
Rome puts his forehead against me. “I’m sorry baby. If I could take the pain, I would.”
“I’d give it to you,” I mutter, making him laugh.
By the time Dr. Dorchester gets to the hospital, I’ve had enough. “Drugs,” I mutter holding my back and fighting back a sob. “Give me the good drugs, doc.”
Dr. Dorchester smiles, washes his hands, and comes over to me. “Let’s just see what we’ve got here.”
He lifts the sheet and has me spread my thighs. He grins softly and puts the sheet back down. “What about my ass is funny?” I ask, chuckling softly, but it gets cut off when I’m hit with another contraction.
“Your kid isn’t waiting for drugs. You’re not quite crowning, but I can tell you’re dilated enough to push.”
Probably why I’m having this unbearable urge to bear down. “Now?” I ask, holding my hands out and Tanner and Rome grab one each.
“Not quite yet. Let me grab the nurses.” He leaves the room briefly, returning before I can start thinking too much. “Okay, Benji. Let’s do it. Give me a big push.”
I do, pushing with all my might, screaming loud enough to hurt my own ears. “You’re doing so good, my omega,” Rome mutters, pushing my curls back and kissing my sweaty forehead.
I lie back, breathing heavily, trying to ignore the almost unbearable pain.
“Alright, Benji. One more and you’ll meet your son.”
Hearing that, I sit up and push once more, giving it all I have.
When I think I can’t take it anymore, the pain almost disappears and I hear the most beautiful cry. Crying—again—I hold my arms out so Dr. Dorchester can hand me our son. After he cleans him off a bit, he lays him on my chest.
All the pain, the fear, and the crying was worth it. When I look down at my baby’s face, everything was worth it.
“He’s c-cute,” Tanner says, touching the soft tuft of hair on the baby’s head.
“Say hello to your brother,” I tell Tanner, looking up at him with wet eyes.
“I would but I d-d-d-don’t know his name.”
Looking down at the baby, staring at his cute little face, I have a name. I look up at Rome and see he’s staring at our son as well. When our eyes meet, we both smile and at the same time and say, “Samuel.”
“H-h-h-hi, Samuel Jacob Stewart. Nice to meet you.”
Samuel Jacob Stewart. It fits.
The nurse comes back in and I have to give the baby over so he can be cleaned and weighed. In that time, Rome calls Brandon and Mason.
They arrive about an hour later when I’m giving Samuel his first feeding. With a wide smile, Brandon walks over and peeks down at the bundled baby. “My Gods, Benji. He’s lovely. What’s his name?”
“Samuel.”
“He looks like a Samuel.” The baby lets my nipple go, smacking his little lips together. “Hey Sammie. It’s Uncle Brandon. I can’t wait to spoil you rotten.”
“I think we have that covered,” Rome says, taking the baby from my arms.
Exhausted, I lean back on the pillows, eyes drifting shut. I can’t believe it’s over and I have another son. I never thought the day would come. It’s funny, we got to foster Tanner the day I found out I was pregnant, then I go into labor the day we adopted him. It’s almost like Samuel wanted to bond with his brother before he was born.
I must doze off, because when Tanner sits on the bed beside me, I see the room is empty. “The baby?” I ask, looking around.
“With the n-n-nurses. Getting a b-b-bath. You okay?”
“Yeah, son. I’m good. Tired. You?”
