"Whatever. I think you like where this is headed," he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips. "Especially the part where we raise our son together and you admit I was right about everything."
"In your dreams, James."
"Every night, Pink." He pulls me closer, his warmth enveloping me like a blanket. "Every damn night."
One month later…
I can now confidently say that watching the woman you love cut open on an operating table is fuckingawful.
"If you don't stop looking at me with that terrified face one more time, I swear to God I'll kick you out of this room and have one of the nurses FaceTime you for the birth,” Wren threatens, her voice shaky but still somehow sharp as a scalpel. She's strapped down to the operating table, her pink hair tucked into a surgical cap, as the medical team preps around us like we're not even there.
I force my features into something more neutral, though my heart's thumping so hard I'm surprised she can’t hear it. "Better?"
"No. Now you just look constipated."
A laugh escapes me despite everything. Leave it to Wren to crack jokes while literally being prepped for emergency surgery. It’s been over thirty-six hours of labor with no progress, and now this. A C-section we never planned for. But that's been our whole story, hasn't it? Nothing working out the way we thought.
"Hey." I lean closer to her face so she’s focused on me. It’s only that and her arms on this side of the blue surgical barrier they've put up across her chest. "You're doing amazing."
"I haven't done anything," she says, her eyes glassy with a combination of pain meds and unshed tears. "I couldn't even get this kid out the normal way."
"You grew him," I remind her. "For nine months. That's more than enough."
She closes her eyes briefly. "What if something's wrong? What if?—"
"Nothing's wrong." My voice comes out more confident than I feel. "Reed's the best. You're the strongest person I know. And our kid's stubborn as hell, just like his parents."
"Kasen," Reed calls from behind the barrier. He’s suddenly acting all professional despite the fact that in the last hour, he’s sent me twelve memes about dads passed out in weird places with "your future" captioned underneath. "We're about to start. Remember to stay seated and keep your focus on Wren."
"Got it." I take Wren's hand, carefully avoiding the IV line. She squeezes back so hard I feel the bones in my fingers grind together, but I don't flinch. This is the least I can do when she's lying there, about to be cut open and scared out of her mind.
"You're going to feel some pressure," Reed warns Wren. "But no pain. If you feel anything sharp, tell me right away."
Wren nods, her face pale. Then her eyes go wide. "Holy shit, he wasn’t lying. That's intense."
"Good. That's normal." Reed's voice is calm and steady. "Just keep breathing. It’ll be over in a minute."
I watch Wren's face, cataloging every twitch of her expression, trying to gauge her pain level. She's always been terrible at admitting when something hurts. She prides herself on being the toughest person in the room. But right now, she’s pale and sweaty and she looks scared. It’s killing me that I can't fix this for her.
"Talk to me," she says suddenly. "Distract me."
"About what?"
"Anything. Tell me about... tell me about the first beer you ever brewed."
I latch onto the topic and just start talking. "It was garbage. Absolute swill. I made it in my dorm room before I dropped out. Used a plastic bucket I bought at Home Depot and bread yeast because I didn't know any better."
A small smile ghosts across her lips. "You didn't."
"I did. And I made my roommates drink it. They were too nice to tell me it tasted like liquid compost."
"How did you—" She gasps, her back arching slightly against the restraints.
"Wren?"
"I'm okay." She takes a shaky breath. "Just weird pressure. Keep going."
"How did I figure it out?" I continue, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles. "My sister. Clover took one sip, spat it halfway across the room, and told me if I ever gave her anything that disgusting again, she'd tell everyone about the time I got drunk and tried to serenade my high school crush with a Backstreet Boys song."
