The First Rule by Nicole S. Goodin

30

Ryan

No amountof planning can make you ready for this.

Seeing the woman you love, in absolute agony as she tries to navigate getting your child out of her body, is not something that any pregnancy or birthing book can prepare you for.

I arrived with two minutes to spare on my fifteen-minute deadline, and I’ve never seen Darcy look so scared. Her eyes found mine and she reached out for me immediately. Any fear I had of her shutting me out, evaporated in that moment. She needed me as much as I needed her.

We need each other right now.

Dr. Davis – Courtney – arrived about a half-hour ago, near twenty minutes after I did, and thank fuck for that. I’ve never felt so completely and utterly helpless in my entire life.

“You’re doing great, Darcy, that’s it, just breathe through it,” Courtney – who Darcy still refuses to call by her first name – encourages.

It’s just the three of us in the room now, although I’m confident Steph would be right here next to me if Freya hadn’t have insisted they give us privacy.

It only took Courtney about five minutes and a quick examination to confirm that Darcy was in fact in established labour, and that our baby was on its way.

I’m terrified it’s too soon – that the baby shouldn’t be coming this early, but Courtney is the picture of relaxation. She keeps reassuring us both that plenty of babies are born completely happy and healthy at thirty-six weeks and that ours will likely be no different.

I won’t be satisfied with that until I see with my own eyes, but right now I have more important things to worry about.

Darcy grips my hand so tight I’m worried it’ll have lost all function forever by the time she’s done, but I don’t say shit about it. I’m not stupid enough for that. She’s in the most intense pain a person can experience, and I’m just along for the ride – crushed fingers and all.

“You okay, princess?” I ask softly as I wipe her forehead with a damp cloth.

She nods, her eyes sagging closed with exhaustion. She’s so tired. She’s strong, but she’s running out of steam, and I don’t blame her, just watching her go through this has left me feeling drained. It feels like it’s been hours.

“I’m just going to examine you again, Darcy, see how many centimetres we’re at.”

Darcy nods without opening her eyes as Courtney lifts the hospital gown and feels around under there.

I like to think of myself as a pretty strong man, but I have gone nowhere near the far end of that bed. A buddy of mine warned me that it wasn’t for the faint-hearted, and I’m not sure I’ve got the stomach for whatever the hell is going to occur before too much longer.

“This is great, Darcy, really great, you’re dilated to ten centimetres now, I think we might have to manually break your waters and see if we can get things really going and get you pushing.”

I don’t know what the fuck manually breaking someone’s waters involves, it doesn’t sound pleasant, but I smile at Darcy, gently squeeze her hand and hope like hell that she can’t read the blind fear in my eyes. “You okay with that, princess?”

“Anything to get this baby out of me.” She groans.

I watch with wide eyes as Courtney calls in two of the nurses, they exchange words before one of them hands her a knitting-needle-looking thing with a hook on the end. My eyes widen further as I realise she’s about to shove said thing up my woman.

What happens next is a blur. There are pads and towels being handed in and out and a puddle of something wet on the floor by my foot. Darcy moans – loudly – and I hear Courtney telling her to breathe and then push on the contraction.

I do the same, repeating ‘breathe’ and ‘push’ like some kind of expert, rather than an unprepared moron who has no idea what he’s doing.

Ten pushes is all it takes, and then I hear it. The cry of a baby. The cry of our baby.

It’s a sound I’m sure I’m going to dread hearing over the coming weeks, months, years… but right now, it is music to my ears.

I kiss her damp forehead, covered in matted hair. “You did it, Darce.”

I know I’m crying, but I don’t care. I’m so overwhelmed. I can’t believe how strong Darcy is. This woman is seriously incredible.

Courtney holds up a tiny, pink, wrinkly little baby. “Congratulations, it’s a healthy little boy.”

I look at him, his wrinkly skin, his tiny fingers and toes, his wide, screaming mouth. He’s perfect.

“It’s a boy,” Darcy whispers, her voice thick. “I hope he’s going to be just like you.”

I cry even harder.

* * *

“Liam?”I suggest.

She shakes her head, her eyes never leaving the tiny bundle in my arms.

Our boy weighed in at six pounds on the dot and in perfect health. I made sure. Twice.

We’ve had him for a few hours now, and Darcy desperately wants to name him tonight, so I’m dredging up every boy’s name I can think of and hoping like hell that one of them appeals to her soon. She desperately needs some sleep.

“Scott?”

She just frowns.

“Adam? Aiden? Bronson? Brett? Carter? Daniel? Ethan? Evan?” I fire off in quick succession, fully prepared to make my way through the entire alphabet if that’s what it takes.

“Wait.” She stops me, holding up a finger.

I pause, hopeful that I’ve said something she likes the sound of. At this point I don’t care what she chooses, she’s done all the hard work – she deserves the honour of making the choice. I just want her to finally rest.

“Carter,” she says softly. “I think I like Carter.”

I tread carefully, not wanting to spook her by coming on too strong.

I sit down gently on the edge of her bed so she can see our little boy’s sleeping face.

“Does he look like a Carter?” I ask, even though I’ve never understood that concept. He just looks like a squishy baby to me.

She nibbles on her bottom lip and leans forward to look right at him, her cheek resting on my shoulder.

“I think so.”

“I like it,” I tell her. I do really like it, but I’d probably agree to her calling him Shrek at this point.

“Carter Steele.” She tests it out. “Sounds right to me.”

I feel like I’m about to fucking cry all over again. I wasn’t sure she’d want him to have my last name. I’ve been such a little bitch today – I’ve never cried so much in my life.

“You want him to be a Steele?”

She smiles, her gaze leaving our son and meeting mine. “Of course I do. You’re a Steele, and so is he.”

She’ll be a Steele too someday.

“Carter Steele.” I nod. “That’s the winner. Our son has his name.”

“He’s so cute, Ryan. Holy shit we make a good-looking baby.”

“That’s all you, princess. I could look at him all night, but I need you to sleep. Okay? I’ve got him, and I’ll wake you if he needs anything.”

“I’m scared to shut my eyes. What if I wake up and none of this is real?”

She’s so fucking sweet. I kiss the top of her head. “I promise you, it’s real. It’s the most real thing in the world and we’ll be right here in that chair, watching you sleep.”

She yawns and lies back into the pillows. “You promise?”

“Swear on my life, Darce. Just rest.”

She nods sleepily, her eyes already drifting shut.

She’s out to it within minutes.

I move gingerly off the bed, careful not to wake her, and take up residence in the big armchair next to the bed.

Carter doesn’t even stir as I get comfortable.

I sit there with him, marvelling at his perfection for almost two hours, during which time a nurse comes in and instructs me what time Darcy needs to feed him. I negotiate an extra hour of sleep for them both, turning on the best of my charm for the blushing nurse. That hour flies by too and before I know it, it’s time to wake her. And I have just the thing.

I carefully set Carter down in the small bassinet that he’s yet to lie in and turn to find the bag I packed for the hospital.

This has been right under Darcy’s nose this whole time and she’s had no idea.

I slip the small velvet box from the hidden, inner pocket where I stashed it months ago and flick open the lid, sliding the over-the-top diamond ring out from within the fold.

I glance at Carter again, but he’s still out to it. “Let’s surprise your mumma,” I whisper.

I carefully pick up her left hand and slide the ring onto her ring finger. I’m adjusting it when I feel her pull on her hand and then gasp when she sees what I’ve done.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

I don’t know if she’s trying not to wake the baby, or if I’ve shocked her into almost silence.

“I know we have things to talk about, and I know I have apologies to make, but I also know that I don’t want to spend another day not knowing if you’ll be my wife one day, Darcy.”

She brings her other hand up to her face to cover her mouth in surprise as I hold her other hand hostage in mine.

“Darcy Shearer, I want forever with you. Nothing is right without you by my side. I love you. I love you so fucking much. Will you marry me?”

“Don’t swear in front of the baby,” she whispers, her eyes welling with tears.

“Sorry.” I chuckle.

She holds my eyes for a moment before shifting her focus to the ring already on her finger, and then finally back to me again.

“Yes.” She nods, the tears spilling over. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

She throws herself into my arms and I hold her tight.

“I’m so sorry,” I start to tell her, but she shushes me.

“It doesn’t matter right now. I understand why you didn’t tell me, and we’ve got nothing but time to figure this out. We’ll be fine, Ryan. We’ll be incredible.”

“I love you so much.”

“To the moon and all of the stars,” she replies, her voice thick with emotion.

“To the moon and all of the stars.”