Page 66 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
Hearing her soft chuckle made the worry lines in my forehead disappear for a second. I chuckled alongside her before leaning forward to kiss the top of her head.
“It wouldn’t be right if they didn’t steal the show on their day.”
As the ambulance sped off toward the hospital, I knew this would be the most significant moment of both of our lives. She was about to bring two lives into this world—two beings our nontraditional love story had created.
“I love you so much,” I mused, kissing the back of her hand.
“I love you too.”
The ambulance pulled up to the private wing of the hospital, where Simora’s obstetrician and her team were waiting. Thenurses ushered us into a private suite equipped with first-class medical supplies and monitors.
I didn’t dare let go of her hand. My typical fearlessness had gone out the window, trading places with a level of anxiety that could only come from a man watching the woman he loved battle one painful contraction after another to bring the two lives he put inside her into the world safely.
“Breathe, baby. You got this,” I coached while gently stroking her hair.
Beads of sweat formed at her temples, and I gently wiped them away. I made a conscious effort to be gentle despite how nervous I was inside.
“You’re doing so good, Sim,” I murmured against her temple, my voice heavy with emotions I’d never experienced before.
Time seemed to drag on but raced by at the same time—rolls of contractions, practiced breathing exercises, repositioning, and back massages. And then, finally, after hours of intense labor, I heard the first cry.
A relieved breath huffed out as my eyes locked on the squirming, tiny body in the arms of the doctor before she held the baby up for Simora and me to see. It was a girl, our daughter, Madison.
“She’s perfection,” I whispered.
Another minute later, I heard the second cry—just as mighty and loud as the first. A boy. Our son, Maddox. Tears of joy ran down Simora’s cheeks as I leaned over and kissed her sweat-drenched forehead. Our babies had arrived, both healthy and beautiful.
“You’ve given me everything I could’ve ever asked for,” I told her with admiration and praise in my eyes.
After allowing me to cut the umbilical cords, the nurses cleaned them up and placed them in Simora’s arms—two tiny brown bundles swaddled in custom embroidered blankets withtheir names on them. My hand reached out, gently tracing over Madison’s soft caramel cheek, then over to Maddox’s itsy-bitsy hand. As if upon instinct, their eyes blinked open to the world for the first time, and it was like looking in a mirror. They both had my eyes—same shape and cognac brown color.
“Wanna do some skin to skin, Daddy?” Simora encouraged, locking eyes with me.
I nodded slowly before slipping out of my shirt. I’d signed multi-million-dollar deals and stood at the top of the underworld’s food chain, but feeling the weight of Madison’s tiny body nestled against my bare chest and the surprising strength of Maddox’s grip on my finger made all that shit feel insignificant.
My eyes soaked them in, memorizing every detail of their tiny features—the cupid’s bow in Madison’s lips that mirrored Sim’s, and the birthmark on Maddox’s left hand that resembled a small heart. They were my most invaluable creations. I tore my eyes over to Simora, who still looked like a goddess even through her exhaustion. Upon instinct, she met my gaze, and it was as if we’d said so much to each other in a single glance without even speaking a word. I already knew I’d do anything to ensure our family was protected, and now, she did too.
Mason raced through the door the next morning, eager to meet his new siblings. He stood at the edge of the hospital bed, gazing at the two babies with curiosity sparkling in his eyes. I smiled watching him silently study his baby brother and sister as if they’d been magically dropped off from outer space.
Simora smiled, shifting in the bed as she waved him closer. “Come say hi to your baby brother and sister.”
“What are their names?”
I stepped forward, my voice warm and filled with love. “This is Madison and Maddox.”
Mason bit his lip with hesitation before slowly reaching out to lightly place his hand on Maddox’s tiny fingers. His eyes lit up when his little brother gripped his finger and held it tight.
A delighted smile spread across Mason’s face. “Whoa. He’s so strong,” he whispered.
Simora brushed her fingers through his curls. “How does it feel to be a big brother? Are you ready?”
Mason cheesed a little harder, realizing his new responsibility. It was a big deal to him—bigger than turning five and starting kindergarten, playing on his first pee-wee soccer team, losing his first tooth, and anything else he’d ever experienced before.
He finally nodded. “Yeah! I’m going to take care of them and make sure nobody hurts them,” he vowed, his voice strong and confident.
Simora and I exchanged a silent look, smiling as I reached out and rested a hand on Mason’s shoulder.
“We know you will, lil man,” I assured him with a grin.
He wasn’t just Mason Campbell-Holland anymore.
He was Mason Campbell-Holland, the greatest big brother of all time.
THE END