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“Don’t what me,” he snaps. “Our wife just delivered our baby girl on her own. That's fucking badass. She’s tougher than all these fucking mafia wives.”
“And the men too.” I giggle, still looking at my baby. She’s stopped crying and is blinking up at the three of us.
“She’s perfect,” Emerson whispers.
“Isn’t she?” Sure, she's still covered in nasty shit, but I can’t help but agree.
“She is,” Alistair whispers. I look over at him to see he’s crying and then over to Emerson to see he’s doing the same. I don’t call them out on it. But I do get some kind of satisfaction that we can get these big bad killers to shed a tear, even better it's one of happiness.
We still need to get someone in to help with the rest of the delivery because there’s still the placenta and everything else that comes after, but for a second I just sit here in bed, holding my baby girl in my arms while her daddies look down at her like she’s the best thing to ever happen to them. Because she is. Not just to them, but to me too.
Almost a year ago, I had to make the hardest decision of my life. Have a baby and pass them off as my arranged husbands or come clean to Tobin about the party.
I chose option number three. I was going to run. Call Alistair to save us both and set us free, that way I could keep my baby. Only I didn’t have to. The universe blessed me so fucking much, and still to this day I can't believe how everything worked out so perfectly.
And here we are now, with our sweet baby girl. Life couldn’t be more perfect.
CHAPTER 25
SCARLETT
I'm sitting in the chair Emerson brought home, the soft cushions providing comfort as I gaze down at my daughter. She's perfect, and there's no doubt in my mind that she is Emerson's, despite not having done a paternity test. With dark hair like her daddies and light eyes like mine, she almost passes as a perfect blend, but her nose is a dead giveaway.
Her little nose is an exact replica of Emerson's, and if that didn't give it away, her demanding cries certainly did. Only a few days old and already the most demanding presence in the room. We plan to have a test done just to be sure because I want to have another baby. Not now, but in a few years, and whoever isn’t the biological father this time will get to father the next baby.
“Isn’t that right, Lucy? We know who helped make you. Mommy knows, and she’s sure that’s Daddy’s nose.” I lean down, planting a kiss on Luciana’s forehead.
I didn’t tell the guys I had a name picked before she was born and while we talked about it, nothing was ever concrete. After I birthed her alone and pulled her from my body, I held her in my arms, I could feel an instant bond forming between us. Luciana Adele Rossi. Luciana means light, and this baby is the light of my life. The shining light that led me back to these men, like a lighthouse guiding ships.
With her little eyes closed, she nuzzles against my breast, and in that moment, I know she is the epitome of everything good in this world. I gently detach her from my nipple, rising from the chair and carefully placing her in the bassinet at the end of the bed.
I can't help but smile as she raises her tiny hands over her head and emits the cutest baby noises. I glance at the bed, only to see my men sleeping peacefully, their hands intertwined in the exact spot where I had been before Lucy required attention to be fed.
“Emerson. Luciana is in the bassinet. I just fed her, but I’m going to shower,” I murmur into his ear while gently shaking him.
“Okay, Little Star. What time is it?” he asks sleepily, not even opening his eyes.
“Six in the morning. She’s fed and back asleep, but I need to shower. I feel gross.” I kiss his temple, and he groans, sliding a hand from under the blanket to grab my ass.
“Has it been six weeks yet?”
A soft giggle leaves me. “No, it’s barely been one. Also, your phone has been going crazy. I’m sure it’s Antonio wanting to see the baby.”
“Too bad. He can see pictures, that’s it.” I shake my head and pull away from him before heading to the bathroom.
No one has seen Luciana in person, minus the three of us. Emerson is adamant that no one will get to see the baby since he never found out who attempted to kill me months ago. Which is fine with me since I’m not a fan of his father or Bonnie, but I would like to get out of this damn house.
I’d like to go to Tobin’s to let Margaret see her. When it comes to having a grandmother-like presence, she's the closest my kid will ever experience on my side of the family. I’ve sent pictures, and we have video chatted, but Margaret is eager to get her hands on her.
Turning the water on, I let it heat up while I shed my nightgown and granny panties with my padsicle stuck to the crotch still. The guys have cracked a few jokes about my homemade ‘diapers’, but they can suck it. They didn’t give birth to our child in our bedroom, and they sure the hell didn’t tear their cocks open in the process.
I’m still sore, so I did some research and sent Alistair out to get me some supplies to make some padsicles. They’re just maxi pads with aloe vera, witch hazel, and lavender oil stored in the freezer. I feel silly wearing them, but they’re helping with the soreness and hopefully, my lady garden is healing nicely. I can’t see it nor am I ready for the guys to, so we’re working on a wish and prayer here.
Stepping into the shower, I groan as the hot water cascades down my body. Since having Lucy, I've only managed to squeeze in one shower, and that was the day after she was born. Otherwise, I’ve been too busy and tired. She’s a lot of work for such a tiny human. Absolutely worth it, though, so I’m not complaining. But shit, the internet was right when they said babies don’t sleep.
It's a relief that Emerson and Alistair have been sharing the responsibilities of caring for her, so we can all cope with the lack of sleep. Emerson and Alistair have still been working too, so I know they’re just as tired as I am. When she woke up this morning after only two hours of sleep, I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to bed, so I advised the guys to get some more rest. I had it under control.
Lathering up my hair and body at the same time, I decide to shave my legs while I let the soap sit on my skin. I don’t know if that helps clean any better, but I felt smelly and stale, so it makes sense in my head.
