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"Push, push!" Johanna commanded. "Don't stop till I tell you."
Tessa strained, then let loose a guttural scream, of pain and triumph. Chase no longer felt his fingers, yet he watched. Watched Tessa strain. Watched his child enter the world screaming at them for disturbing his peace.
"It's a boy!" Johanna said, holding the child up for them to see. The infant shrieked and squirmed and his parents laughed.
"Told you so," he whispered, and Tessa sagged back, lifting her gaze to his. She brushed her thumb across his cheek, catching the single tear.
"You'll never let me forget that, huh?"
He shook his head, his voice lost somewhere he couldn't retrieve, and he buried his face in the curve of her throat, smoothing back her damp hair. "You did good, angel. He's beautiful. I'm so proud of you."
He kissed her softly, reverently, and Tessa felt a sharpness in her chest. She'd missed him so much these past weeks. Then their son was laid on her chest and Tessa laughed and cried. Her baby shivered.
"Ohh, it's okay," she cooed, covering her son, wiping his face. She glanced at Chase and his hand trembled as he stroked his son's head.
While Johanna finished with Tessa, a nurse carried their son to a table. Chase couldn't take his eyes off the tiny bundle, and after a few quick tests, she gestured for him to join her.
Chase gazed down at the wiggling infant, his son's movements jerky, his breathing a little noisy, and he bent, pressing his lips to the soft newborn cheek. A son. With shaking hands, Chase gave his son his first bath, counting tiny fingers and toes, softly talking to him, telling him how glad he was to finally meet him, that this better be the last time he caused his mother any pain. Then he sang, almost in a private whisper, Happy Birthday.
The room went suddenly quiet and Johanna glanced up, looking at Chase's back, then at Tessa. Tessa met her doctor's gaze over the mounds of sheets. She easily read Johanna's look. Are you going to let him get away?
A hard knot worked in her throat. Tears filled her eyes and she let them quietly fall. This was the happiest moment of her life. She had the baby she'd always wanted, needed, and his father loved them. Chase lifted his son in his arms, and when Tessa saw the awed look on his face, the unconditional love shining in his blue eyes, she knew there was nothing more heart-wrenching than the tiny speck of human enveloped in his strong hands. He carefully placed the infant in her arms.
"I think he likes me."
Tessa's lips twitched with a patient smile. He sounded uncertain and hopeful.
"Look at those hands." He caught one, spreading the fingers, his thumb covering his son's entire palm. "Baseball hands," he said almost to himself. "Maybe football."
She didn't respond, unsure. But images of a dark-haired child bent over, his hands braced on his knees, his little bottom swaying side to side like his father's always did, raced through her mind. It made her chest tighten.
The room cleared and Chase didn't notice until a nurse asked him to take his son. From behind a curtain, she helped Tessa bathe and get into clean garments and a bed. The birthing chair was wheeled out and Chase waited off in the corner, his son snuggled against his chest, seeking warmth and the comfort of his heartbeat.
He smiled at the soft mewing sound his boy made and brushed his lips across his soft, down-covered head. Baby boy Lightfoot read the tape on his tiny ankle, and Chase felt a measure of resentment. It should be his name there. And as he considered a majestic list of names, since they'd never discussed them, he wondered if he was going to be named on the birth certificate.
He'd fight for the right, he decided, then pushed the week's worth of anger and hurt aside as the nurse swept the curtain back. He met Tessa's gaze across the room. She was exhausted, but had never looked more beautiful. Her hair brushed, her face freshly washed, she was once again the delicate, angelic female who tore his world apart. A far cry from the raving lunatic delivering his son. Alone with her, he moved to the bed. She immediately held her arms out for their child.
"What do we call him?"
We. The single word was a burst of reality. No matter what happened, they would always be connected by their baby, she thought, adjusting the blanket around her son's cherubic face. "I've always liked Christopher, or maybe Zackary." She cast him a quick glance.
"Christopher," he said with finality, and after a moment, she nodded. "'Course, Christian will think he's named for him." His lips twisted in a rueful smile, his eyes on his son. "Maybe he'll come home to visit more often for his nephew."
Tessa's brows drew down. Except for his daily calls in the past weeks, they'd been out of touch with each other's lives, and she realized how much his family meant to him.
