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“What about Bizzy?”
“Listen to me.” Mathis gets in front of me, Nick taking his cue and standing at my shoulder. “Go be there for the delivery of your son. This is a moment you can’t miss. We’ll be here for Bizzy and have an update as soon as you come back. She’s under the best care possible right now. She’s stable. She’s not in danger of dying. I think the original prognosis was a little exaggerated.”
“I need to see her.”
“No, you need to be there for your son. She’ll kill you if you miss his birth.” Rory’s strained voice comes from behind.
“Can anyone tell me why they were even together? How did this happen?” Each word burns in my dry throat.
“We’ll get all the details and have them ready for you. Mom and Dad are on their way. Go now,” Mathis urges me.
I give a small nod and follow the doctor out of the room with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Even the reassuring words that both my son and fiancée are not in grave danger does nothing to calm the nerves.
The whole ride up the elevator and walk to the maternity ward is a blur. Claude and Anne are waiting outside of a room and straighten when they see me coming.
“Crenshaw,” Claude says curtly.
“How are they?”
“The baby seems fine. Sasha is freaked.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“Barely,” Anne speaks up. Something in her tone is suspicious.
“Sir, you need to change into these.” A nurse hands me a pair of scrubs and points to an empty room.
I don’t give them another glance and go to change. When I’m done, she leads me to the operating room and to Sasha’s side.
Sasha looks incredible for a woman recently in a car accident. There’s a small cut on her cheek and some bruising on her neck, I assume from the seatbelt, but otherwise, she looks fine.
“Ren.” She touches my hand, and I shake her off.
“Give me this, please. Give me this, and I’ll never ask anything again. I’ve been so scared out of my mind.”
This time when she links her fingers through mine, I don’t move, but stand with my heart in my throat listening to the doctor explain the procedure. He has a conversation with Sasha about her being ready that barely registers with me. My anxiety is about to blow up, waiting to hear and see my baby.
It takes about four minutes until a tiny wail fills the room. Relief floods through me as I watch his arms and legs flail. He’s so tiny, but he’s breathing and fighting. In a rush, he’s placed in a machine as they do whatever in the hell they need to do. Sasha squeezes my hand, distracting my attention back to her.
“What are you seeing?”
I explain what’s happening and look back at her to see the tears start running from her eyes. I recognize the relief, but the rest is new to me. There’s regret, shame, and sorrow. In this moment, I know she’s responsible for what has happened.
“What did you do?” I barely whisper, the acid clear in my tone.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
I wrench my hand out of hers and stumble back, just as a nurse approaches with a tiny bundle in her arms.
“Do you want to hold him for a brief moment before we take him to the NICU?”
I ignore Sasha’s plea and reach for him. He’s so damn small, too small. My heart starts to break.
“He weighed in at four point eight pounds and almost eighteen inches. That’s really good for such a preemie. We’ll get him in an incubator and have a full update for you very soon. But his eyes are more focused than I’ve seen before. These are all positive things. His lungs seem to be clear and working properly,” she tells us as I stare in awe at him.
She may say four point eight pounds, but to me, he feels like a feather. I want him in the incubator now and with the best pediatrician in this hospital. Mathis better have his ass outside the door waiting.
I lean down and brush my lips over his little forehead and whisper, “Welcome to the world, little guy. Daddy loves you.”
