His Baby Girl by Rosa Mink
Chapter 14
Mel
Anxiousness flows over me as I sit, Clint’s hand holding mine, on a plush couch in a strange office. His fingers hide the rings on my fingers, and I don’t know if he told Jenna about that. I know the day he came home after telling her about the babies because she flew out of her chair and smacked him, leaving a cut on his cheek. He refused to go back for a week afterwards until she calmed down whenever someone would mention my name.
It was the night he asked me to marry him, be his forever, and I said yes, not to spite Jenna, but because there was no way to say no to the man I love. He reminded me of what he’d said our second night together, about how until I would let him take care of me entirely, be his entirely, I’d work for him, and it hit me then what he’d really meant by it. I wasn’t expecting him to take us to the courthouse that Friday afternoon and marry me, but it was incredible.
It’s been incredible, especially the sex. Oh god, it’s just gotten better. Especially with the bump. We don’t ride his bike anymore because he won’t risk me on it, but I get to ride him whenever I want—and I always want.
I can’t get enough of him. There are nights when he loves me sweet and slow until I come so hard that I cry. Other nights he plain out fucks me, getting me to scream and beg him in the best way to let me come. It’s been incredible and I don’t want today to end that.
“It’s okay, baby girl. Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Clint whispers against my ear, his free hand lifting to my cheek cupping it gently. “I’m right here. I’d protect you with my life. The doctor will also be here and with one push of a button, two guards and a nurse with a sedative will be in here immediately.”
I lift my eyes to him in surprise at that information as the babies move inside me. The flutters I had at first have grown as the weeks moved forward. We’re now at twenty-two weeks. It’s been almost three months since Jenna’s diagnosis, and they started her on treatments. She resisted it all the majority of the first month but slowly, the medication seemed to somewhat help, and she gave the therapy a chance.
“I refused to bring you here without a plan in place to ensure your safety. Yours and our babies,” he adds giving me a soft kiss.
“Thank you, daddy. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, baby girl,” he replies holding me close as the sound of feet moving across the floor pulls my attention up. Clint’s hand slips from my face down to my side, holding me against him securely.
“I take it the yahoos in the hallway were your demand?” Jenna states looking to Clint.
“Yes, they are. Considering that I ended up with three butterfly bandages on my face after telling you that Mel was pregnant, I needed a bit more reassurance that help would be closer at hand.”
“Well, considering Tuck our male nurse could likely bench-press twice my size with ease, I think it’s a little excessive,” Jenna said before the doctor motioned to her to sit down.
“Not when you’ve seemed to make Mel the target in most of your rage. I wouldn’t begin to let something happen to her that might send her to the hospital,” Clint returns, and I take a deep breath resting my head on his shoulder.
Dr. Kingsley starts the session and I mostly stay quiet for the first half. Until he brings me directly into the conversation at least. “Clint, is there anything you or Mel would like to share with Jenna?”
“It seems as good a time as any to tell you,” Clint says, taking my left hand into his again, “Mel and I are married. Five weeks now.”
“What?” Jenna shouts staring at us. “God, why would you marry someone like him? He’s old,” she adds my way and I shake my head with a little laugh.
“Why him? Because I love him, because he respects me and treats me well,” I return, holding Clint’s hand a bit tighter. “Guys our age are pretty much just after sex or want to party. They don’t care about anyone but themselves. He puts me first. He takes care of me, and I don’t mean with money,” I add when her eyes narrow. “You know where I was working. You know where I was staying when my foster parents kicked me out after graduation. It might have been a shitty place, but I was doing it on my own.
“Clint…he loves me. He’s proven it in so many little ways. Gave me a way to find firm ground under my feet, a safety net, while showing me that I wasn’t just someone to sleep with. Now, he listens to me, to what I need. He has my back and supports me. No, I never expected to be married at nineteen, or to fall in love with someone older, but I did, and I won’t give it up. I won’t make our babies give it up.”
Jenna shakes her head at us but doesn’t move from the chair and I let out a shaky breath feeling Clint’s hand rubbing my arm. “How many of my other friends did you sleep with, Dad?”
“What?” he says, his tone surprised and a bit angry. “For your information, Jenna. Mel’s the first person I’ve slept with in over fifteen years. Yeah,” he states when her eyes widen in shock. “The last person I was with was your mother. When she began wanting nothing but drugs, I had work and you to take care of, and keeping you safe from her when she was on a bender was more important to me than sex. I hadn’t met anyone I wanted like that in years. Not until the day that Mel came walking by when I was fixing your car and I realized how beautiful she was. How grown up she was as we talked. It was her birthday, and she didn’t even mention it, didn’t complain that her best friend went out shopping and didn’t invite her, didn’t get her a present, didn’t even say happy birthday to her. That’s why I took you all out to dinner that night when she said she didn’t have any plans, to make up for what I assumed at the time was just you forgetting it.”
“You’re serious? You wanted her for that long and never…”
“Never said a word to you or her about it. Never touched her because I refused to be an asshole and go after a woman as young as Mel without knowing she felt it too. That all changed the night of that party when she called so upset. I couldn’t leave her there, let her be hurt. I already loved her too much for that. And when you went after her…” He stops, pressing a kiss to my temple and I melted into his touch.
“I uh…it’s a little hazy but I remember some of what I said and Mel, I’m sorry,” Jenna states pulling both my and Clint’s attention directly to her. “I was allowed to catch up on some news this week and I saw the articles about Daryl.”
The flinch is involuntary, and I rub my belly, not wanting to think of that disgusting vile creep ever again.
“Who is Daryl?” Dr. Kingsley asks looking amongst us.
“The person responsible for giving Mel PTSD when it comes to hospitals,” Jenna says, and I can feel Clint tense beside me.
“You knew? You knew she had PTSD and you still risked her health the day she came here to visit?” Clint questions, his tone growing angrier.
“All I could see was you and her in the kitchen so cozy, the way you protected her when I snapped, and I let it manifest. I swore she was kicking me out of my own family, and I thought in order to protect myself I had to hurt her. I know it was bad and I’m sorry that I hurt you, Mel. I really am,” Jenna states and I nod not sure how much to trust her, but I don’t say that aloud.
“I think that is a good place to end today. Jenna’s doing well and we would like to move her to the daily living facility rather than inpatient care. It will have her helping in her own daily activities, such as making her own meals and cleaning her own room. We’ll continue with individual and family therapy and then see where we’re at then,” Dr. Kingsley says, and I can feel Clint tense the tiniest bit next to me. “The daily living facility is still considered inpatient, Jenna will not be allowed to leave the premises, but it will allow her to begin to transition back into society. We recommend that someone spend two to three months in the daily living facility and then we’ll transition to the outpatient part of treatment. Depending on family situations, that can mean the individual returns to their home, or we can help to arrange accommodations.”
“Thank you,” Clint says, his fingers brushing patterns on my palm making parts of me wake. “Jenna, would you like to know what the babies are?” he adds as we’re getting ready to leave.
“Yeah, they’re going to be family, right?” she states, and I give Clint a nod, letting him tell her our news.
“You’re going to have a little brother and a little sister.” The smile that hits his lips makes me warm from head to toe and I want nothing but to get home and indulge in it.
“At least it won’t be two girls fighting for the bathroom and clothes,” Jenna suggests as we leave. I let out a deep breath when we’re in the car, glad to have today over.
Jenna’s moved to the daily living facility the next week and we go by once a week for family therapy sessions. As the weeks progress, I slowly start to relax at them, but when Dr. Kingsley says that they’d like to prepare for Jenna to transition fully out of the facility, worry hits.
“I’ve looked into things and there’s a residential complex designed to help with the transition. They’ll check in on Jenna, make sure she’s still going to therapy, keeping to her schedule,” Clint tells us making Jenna’s brow lift. “I know that you’ve made a lot of strides recently Jenna, but we’ll have two newborns in the house in about a month. Newborns that will disrupt all of our schedules and I don’t think that’s necessarily the best idea this early into the transition.”
“I believe your father has a valid point, this is for your wellbeing as well,” Dr. Kingsley says.
“Okay, I can see that. I hadn’t really thought about it but yeah, two crying babies might be a little stressing,” Jenna states and I’m fully relieved that she doesn’t fight it.
“You’re welcome to come by the house and see us, see them,” I offer, and Clint agrees, letting us head out with ease.
We’re having weekly appointments for the babies when Jenna moves into the new apartment. It’s small but nice and so are the staff that help to monitor the residents. It’s strange though for her to be back in the house for the occasional dinner.
Every night when Clint takes her home after one, I end up relaxing in the tub to unwind, and more often than not, touching myself. It makes me grin when I can send the videos to him, know that he’ll soon be back with me, taking over with his hard cock to make me come.
We’re at thirty-seven weeks when I wake up, half exhausted from getting up and down all night to pee. Clint brushes a kiss to my forehead telling me, “Go back to sleep, baby girl, you need it.”
“I need to pee first,” I state, groaning when I can’t quite make it to the edge of the bed to get up. “A little help here? It’s your fault I look like I’m smuggling two watermelons under here.”
“Beautiful watermelons, and some exceptionally ripe cantaloupes too,” he adds, pressing kisses to my breasts as they push at the top of my shirt. He picks me up, carrying me into the bathroom and I push him towards the door as I use the toilet.
There are streaks of red on the paper when I wipe and my heart starts to race when I stand up, seeing more blood in the toilet. “Clint…”
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he asks, hurrying back to my side. I can’t quite find the words and just point so he can see. “Okay, let’s get you to the clinic to check on things.”
An hour later Helen settles the blanket back over me and gives us a smile. “Everything’s fine, what you saw was your mucus plug, better known as a bloody show. It can happen normally anywhere from a couple days prior to or during labor itself. It also looks like your water has broken. Have you had any contractions?”
“Some, I thought they were just the false ones,” I admit as Clint presses a kiss to my forehead, calming me.
“Not this time I’d say. I’m going to put on an external monitor, and we’ll see how things progress. Most of the time labor moves forward on its own within twenty-four hours of your water breaking and most women don’t even realize it has until the contractions start and they’re at the doctor’s. Since your water has broken and you are having twins, the best place for you is to be right here.”
I nod not about to go anywhere now and let them connect the wireless monitor. The morning passes by slowly with the contractions gaining but not too bad. Clint and I walk around the room, watching some TV, listening to music. As the afternoon hits, the contractions pick up and I start having trouble breathing through them.
By early evening, Clint’s noticed, and he gets the nurse who confirms that my oxygen levels fall during each contraction despite doing the breathing techniques the midwives suggested. I haven’t had too many issues with my asthma the entire pregnancy. Just once or twice when I was extremely congested, and I wasn’t expecting this at all.
Dr. Bradley comes in with Helen, monitoring us for a bit. “The colder air in here I believe is the issue. When you’re breathing in through your mouth, the air is drier, and that seems to be causing some of the slight symptoms that you’re having during contractions. Since the clinic is part of the hospital and permitted to do medical interventions, you won’t have to go anywhere to do it, but I feel an epidural should alleviate this. It will block the pain of the contractions which in turn will allow you to breathe more normally. The only other option is to put you on oxygen to keep your stats up. That I believe is more apt to allow for additional issues further along though.”
I nod seeing the look in Clint’s eyes that says what he thinks we should do and agree to the epidural. It means moving from the room we’re in to another on the clinical side of the center, but it’s still nothing like a regular hospital room. It feels safe and inviting and once the epidural is in, I can breathe easily once more.
With it I can’t walk around any longer, but Clint stays next to me, and I rest my head on his chest as the evening fades to night. My eyes flutter shut about eight until something wakes me about three in the morning. “Clint…”
“What is it baby?” he says softly, brushing the hair that fell from my ponytail into my face away.
“Something feels strange, can you get the nurse?”
He nods, pressing the call button and I’m surprised to see Helen coming in with her.
“Nothing to worry about, Mel. You’re feeling the baby’s head,” Helen tells me after a quick check. “We’ll be meeting this one shortly. Right now, I need you to give me a good push. You may not be able to feel everything that’s happening but give me a good hard push.”
I do for five minutes as a nurse, hovers next to me with an oxygen mask on hand.
“That’s it, Mel. Relax,” Helen says, and I hear a little cry start. She settles the baby on my chest, and I can’t stop staring down at him. “Here’s your little boy.”
I bask in holding him for the next ten minutes as they rub him clean. A nurse takes him to the sink to give him a bath as the contractions that had slightly eased pick up again. Twenty minutes later, Helen settles our little girl onto my chest, and I can’t quite stop the tears that hit.
“I’ve got you baby girl,” Clint whispers to me pressing kisses all over my face.
We sleep for a bit waking just before eight and I smile when I see the twins in their bassinettes next to me. I was a little worried that they’d have to stay, be moved to the children’s hospital but as the afternoon turns to early evening, we get to move back into the SUV and head home.
“You were amazing, baby girl,” Clint says as our little boy Nolan James, named after my dad, then Clint, nurses. His sister Michelle Grace just finished nursing and is in his arms with a clean diaper. “These two are perfect.”
“They are,” I muse, not caring that Clint said if we were giving our baby boy his middle name of James then we had to give Michelle my middle name of Grace. It’s adorable I think, just as adorable as my two little loves. I can’t get enough of their little baby smells.
