A Vow of Forever by Lylah James

CHAPTER EIGHT

Julianna

I woke up feeling slightly numb and my head was all fuzzy, confused. My eyes darted around the hospital room and before landing on my husband who was sitting next to my bed, with my hand between his. I remembered what happened outside the Spencer’s Building but everything after that was just an empty blank in my memory.

“What–” My throat was so dry, I could barely speak. I swallowed a few times before trying to speak again. “What happened?”

My whole body was sore and there was a tinge of discomfort in my lower stomach. I looked down, expecting to see my heavy pregnant belly and while my stomach was still swollen, but it was fairly smaller than I remembered.

“Killian,” I gasped in alarm, trying to sit up but then I whimpered as agony laced through my body. “My babies, w-where are they?”

He lunged off the chair when I cried out and leaned over the bed, trying to get me to lay back down. “What happened?” I demanded sharply. “Killian!”

He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting around the room before coming back to me. “You were in distress and so were the triplets, so they had to do an emergency C-section,” he explained slowly. “The babies are premature but they will be okay.”

“Oh, thank God. Thank God,” I sighed, slumping back against the pillow. “Where are they? Can I see them?”

His grief-stricken expression confused me. Killian just said that the babies were okay. Why did he look so… heartbroken?

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice cracking. Panic rose inside me and fear slithered though my veins. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Tell me!”

My husband pressed his shaky fist to his mouth and I watched him swallow back a cry. “One of the babies… she… didn’t make it. She didn’t…”

My heart stammered as Killian dropped to his knees, as if he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. “You–” I choked out. “W-what did you just say? No. No. NO!”

“Julianna,” Killian started but I was already shaking my head.

“Bring me my baby. I want to see her. I want to see her right now, Killian. Let me see her, please. Oh God, please.”

My heart thudded frantically as Killian nodded. He called for the nurse and then it was the longest minute of my life before the door opened. A nurse walked in, holding a little bundle in her arms.

My chest tightened; the pain almost indescribable. My baby girl was swaddled in a soft purple blanket and I was desperate to hold her, to look at her face and to memorize every inch of her.

I opened my arms toward the nurse. “I want to hold my baby.”

She laid my daughter in my arms and I instinctively pulled her closer to my chest, staring at her tiny face. She was so small; her whole body could easily fit in her father’s palm.

I spared the nurse a look. “Do you think I can do skin to skin with her? Will that work? Maybe she just needs my warmth, to remind her that’s she safe. She’ll be fine, right? Skin to skin care is the best way for mother and baby bond. That’s we need. I wasn’t awake when she was born but I’m here now. She’ll be fine,” I repeated, firmly believing in my words even though they sounded unreal to my own ears.

Killian made a painful sound from the back of his throat but I didn’t dare to look at him. I couldn’t watch him break down. I couldn’t.

The nurse winced and she gave me a helpless look. “Ma’am, she is–”

“Please,” I interrupted. “Just… let me do this. I want to hold my daughter; skin to skin.”

Her eyes were glassy but I didn’t her let dejection sway me. She nodded and then helped me my hospital gown down. I took my daughter out of her tight swaddling and then held her against my bare chest, her cool skin against my warmth.

“Hey, baby girl. Oh, look at you,” I breathed, caressing the top of her head. She had little fuzzy black hair, like her father’s. “You’re the most beautiful and precious thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I whispered, choking on my tears. “You’re going to be okay. Mommy is here now.”

I just couldn’t accept that my baby was gone. So, I spoke to her. For what felt like hours, until my throat was sore from crying and talking. I told her about my dreams of us – our little family, while I silently willed her to breathe. To live.

I yearned to hear her little cry.

But she never did.

I longed to feel her warmth.

But she was too still.

I cried until it felt like my throat was bleeding from the inside. The crumbling of my soul was painful but what broke me was seeing my strong, confident and arrogant husband break down.

“Killian,” I whispered shakily, gingerly wrapping one hand around his. Our fingers entwined together and we desperately held on. He brought his head up, looking at me tearfully. His face was red and wet and his anguished cries filled my ears.

I stroke a knuckle against our daughter’s soft cheek. “God gave us a little angel.”

Agony was written all over his face; his expression wretched and dark torment in his eyes. I had never felt so hopeless before, but I had to accept that our baby girl was really gone.

I gripped his hand tighter. “Hold us, Killian.”

His chest rattled with a sharp inhale and I didn’t have to ask him twice. He sat on the edge of the bed, curling one of his arms around my shoulders. “Don’t let go,” I pleaded brokenly.

“I won’t,” he croaked, his devastation seeping out in his words. “I got you, Princess. I got us.”

I pressed my lips to my daughter’s tiny head. “Alina,” I said in a hushed tone. “It means light or the bright one. She’s our light. Our little Angel. Her name is Alina.”

Killian lowered his head, pressing a tender kiss to our daughter’s little feet. “Alina,” he whispered roughly. “It’s perfect.”

I held our daughter for a moment longer before finally whispering a goodbye in her ears and then handing her back to the nurse. My heart ached as I parted from her, knowing that it would be the last time I was holding my daughter.

I turned toward Killian, burying my face into his throat and letting out a silent cry. I didn’t know how long we sat like this, but eventually I had no more tears left to cry. My head was hurting and my body was extremely sore; while my heavy heart bore the invisible scars of today.

“I w-want to see Alina’s sisters,” I finally said.

Thirty minutes later, I was wheeled into the NICU, where my daughters were staying. They were in two different incubators, with tubes and wires attached to their little bodies.

“They are tiny.” My voice cracked as I placed a hand on the outside of the incubator. “They are okay, right? Healthy? Safe? Are there any complications?”

“Both babies are actually doing pretty good for being preemies,” the doctor announced with a kind smile. “Their respiratory systems aren’t fully developed yet, so they need help breathing. And they don’t have the ability to coordinate reflexes like sucking and swallowing, so they are going to be receiving most of the nutrition and fluids through an IV or feeding tube. Though, you should be able to breastfeed them in a few weeks. Maybe even earlier if they are progressing well. Of course, they need to gain a few more pounds before they can go home.”

He pointed to the incubator on my left. “Baby Number One weighs only three pounds and three ounces.” And then he pointed at the incubator I was closest to. “Baby Number Two weighs three pounds and five ounces.”

They were so tiny; so fragile looking in those incubators with diapers that looked too big for their small bodies.

“Can we hold them?” Killian asked, as he stared down at our daughters in both wonderment and fear.

“Absolutely,” the doctor chirped. “We highly recommend the kangaroo care, which is skin-to-skin. And since both mother and father are here, you can hold both babies.”

The nurses carefully took our daughters out from their respective incubators and brought one to me and the other to Killian. They helped me lowered my hospital gown and then placed my baby between my bare breasts, with her tubes and all.

She let out a tiniest cry and I gently brushed a finger over her cheek. “It’s okay, little one. You’re okay,” I crooned to her. She was warm and alive, the complete opposite of Alina. As much as I was thankful for that, it still hurt.

My gaze flickered to Killian, who was sitting in a chair, holding our other daughter to his bare chest. She looked so tiny and vulnerable against his wide chest. But I knew without a doubt, that was where our daughter was the safest. It was almost like we were somehow connected; he looked up at the same time and our eyes locked. “She’s so perfect,” he mouthed.

I nodded tearfully. He cradled her tenderly, stroking a finger up and down her back in a soothing manner.

A tear slid down my scarred cheek as I caressed my baby’s fuzzy head. “You’re Gracelynn,” I told her. “You’re our blessing and named after the purest soul I knew.”

“And you’re Lydia,” Killian whispered, loud enough for me to hear. He was looking down at our daughter, completely awestruck by her tiny self. “Our beautiful, noble one.”

After a second, my husband’s eyes met mine and my heart stuttered.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” I breathed.

***

A week later

Once Cameron was sound asleep, I pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and I got off the bed. My stomach growled as I walked into the kitchen to find myself something to eat.

Killian would be coming home soon and then we’d go back to visit Gracelynn and Lydia. While I recovered in the hospital, I was able to spend most of my time in the NICU with my daughters. But when they were only six days old, I was officially deemed fully recovered and healthy, therefore I was discharged from the hospital. There was nothing more I wanted than to stay with them, but I couldn’t.

Cameron needed me. And his sisters had to stay in the NICU for almost two months before they were strong enough to come home.

Leaving our new babies at the hospital and coming home without her was a heartbreaking experience. I remembered crying all night long the first two days we got back home. I sobbed over the lost of Alina. And I cried over the fact that I couldn’t be with my babies twenty-four-seven.

Two weeks have passed and I still felt so… helpless. Pumping was what kept my sanity somewhat intact. It was the one thing that I could do as their mother, that was contributing to their growth and development.

I was chewing on a cold turkey sandwich as I scrolled through my messages. After I was discharged from the hospital, I deleted all my social media apps and I stopped going online. I didn’t want to know what they were saying about me anymore. I stopped caring because they would always find a reason to hate me. I had more important things to worry about now.

I was scrolling through my game apps when I accidently clicked on the news and before I swiped it away, a headline caught my attention.

My heart stuttered and I dropped my sandwich. It splattered messily onto the kitchen counter as I read the most recent news article. My stomach churned and with my heart in my throat, I fought against the urge to retch.

Oh God, what has Killian done?

Shock coursed through my veins and I was still staring at my phone with wide eyes when he walked through the door of our house. “I’m home,” he announced wearily.

He stalked into the kitchen, carelessly tugging on his tie before dropping it on the counter. I rounded on him before he could say anything else. “What is this?” I questioned sharply, showing him the screen of my phone.

Killian barely even looked at the article. He crowded into my space, pushing me back into the counter and our eyes locked. “I did what I had to do,” he said slowly, with complete confidence.

“You didn’t tell me,” I accused. “Why didn’t tell me? This is a huge decision, Killian. You withdrew from the presidential race!”

My heart was racing but he barely even flinched at my outburst. When my husband responded ever so calmly, I wanted to smack him. “I knew you’d read it on the news and I was coming home, to tell you just that.”

I shook my head before inhaling a shuddering breath. “Why?”

His lips twitched with a bittersweet smile. “I can’t lead a country that hates my wife and I refuse to raise our children in such a toxic environment.”

“I can’t let you walk away from the one thing you’ve worked so hard to achieve.” The tears streamed down my cheeks. “You spent two freaking decades working to get this point. To make yourself worthy of this opportunity. I won’t let you give it up for me. This is your dream,” I cried, pushing against his chest with my fists.

Killian’s arm snaked out and he gripped my hand, tugging me to him before his lips crashed against mine. He swallowed my cries and kissed away my gasp. His tongue drove into my mouth, tasting me. “You are my dream,” he rasped into my lips.

“Don’t do this,” I begged weakly. “You’ll regret it and then you’ll hate me.”

He lowered his forehead to mine. “I love my country but if I have to choose, I’ll always choose you. But you know what? I didn’t even have to choose because you’re my only choice, Julianna. Always and forever. Remember our vows?”

“I remember my vows. I said I’ll support you; in your dreams, in your achievements, I will be by your side. Always.”

Our hearts thudded to the same rhythm and my whole body was shaking. Killian pressed another tender kiss on my lips. “And you do support me. You always have. Our family is my dream.”

“I can’t let you sacrifice–”

“And I won’t sacrifice us for my own selfish ambitions.”

My fingers dug into his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat. There was utmost sincerity in his dark gaze and I searched for regret or disappointment, but found none. He was really serious about this. My shoulder slumped, the fight leaving me.

Killian curled his arms around me, holding me closer. Safe and warm in his arms. “Once Gracelynn and Lydia are discharged from the NICU, I’m taking you and our babies home, Princess.”

“I am home. With you. In your arms. I’m home, Killian.”

But I knew exactly what he meant.

We were going back to the island, away from this toxic environment and to a place where we belonged. Where we were happy and safe.

A place we could call home.