Page 113 of Mr. Brightside
I’ve never been more appreciative of Rhett’s no-nonsense stoicism than I am at this moment. I blow out another breath and try to muster up a sense of calm. “Okay, that all makes sense. So why is—”
“He got into it with a nurse,” he cuts in, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. “They asked him to step out of the room and take a breather, and when he snapped back, they told him he wasn’t allowed in the room until he calmed down.”
I close my eyes and hold back the laugh threatening to spill out. My poor husband. They say becoming a parent changes a person. I don’t think any of us expected Jake to morph into this over-protective helicopter parent when he became a dad.
What the hell did he do or say to get kicked out of the room? Doesn’t matter. He’s obviously on edge, and it won’t help Chloe or the baby if he isn’t allowed in the room when it’s time to push. Jake has gone through all the birthing classes with Chloe. It’s his job to be her support person. It’smyjob to make sure he gets back in that room.
“I’ll talk to him,” I assure Rhett as I pivot on my heel and head back to the waiting room. When I turn the corner, Jake and Tori are huddled over Stella, both staring down at our sleeping toddler.
“Hey,” I whisper, squatting to meet my husband at eye-level. When he meets my gaze, his eyes are filled with a torrent of emotions. I know he’s worried, anxious, and excited. He also has the decency to look embarrassed about his outburst. I fight back another laugh, knowing he needs love and support right now, not a reminder that he screwed up.
“Come talk to me,” I urge quietly, offering him my hand as I stand so I can pull him out of the seat. He reluctantly accepts, and Rhett swoops in to his vacated spot, his arm instantly going around Tori and Stella. He kisses his wife’s head and whispers something I can’t make out, then looks up at me. “We’ve got her,” he assures me.
I pull Jake down the bright hallway and duck into an alcove. He blows out an exasperated breath as he leans back against a soda machine, crosses his arms, and hooks one ankle over the other in his go-to bartender stance.
“Look, I don’t know what Rhett told you, but that nurse had it out for me from the moment—”
I cut him off with a kiss, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him in to me before he can object. It takes a few seconds, but eventually he goes soft in my embrace, all the tension and defensiveness giving way to the vulnerability he so rarely shows.
“I love you,” I murmur against his mouth as I pull back and kiss along his jaw. “I love how you care so deeply about our family. I love how you get so growly and protective of our babies. I love everything about you, Jake Vargo.”
He doesn’t say anything in return. Even after all these years, he still needs a little time to process it: That he’s lovable. That he’s worthy of adoration. In all honesty, I don’t think he truly believed it in his heart until Stella started saying “love ew, daddy,” a few months ago.
“Thank you,” he chokes out as he rests his forehead on mine. “And I love you, too,” he adds, even though it’s not necessary. Everything this man does is for me, for Stella, for our family. I haven’t doubted his love for one second of one day since we made things “officially” official and decided to stay married.
“I do need you to get it together now. This baby has your DNA,” I remind him, our foreheads still touching as I rub his back through his tight black T-shirt. He was at The Oak when we got the call, so he came straight from work. It’s dumb luck that Tori and Rhett are in town this weekend. Dumb luck—or kismet.
“You can’t be wasting all your daddy energy fighting with the nurses. We’re about to have a mini Jake to contend with, and this kid’s already proven he’s going to be a handful like his daddy.”
He smirks and moves to kiss me. “I’ll show you some daddy energy,” he teases before crushing his lips into mine. I let myself get lost in him as he shoves me against the opposite row of vending machines and deepens the kiss. It’s not until someone clears their throat that I even remember where we are.
“Uh, bro?” Rhett interjects, shaking his head when he finds us making out like horny teenagers in this alcove. Like he can judge. Based on how flushed Tori was when they arrived, I’m almost positive they snuck in a quickie in the parking deck before they met us in the waiting room.
“They sent someone down to tell you it’s time. Like, right now.”
My husband tenses in my arms before he breaks into the biggest grin. He looks at me, wide-eyed, and I nod at him enthusiastically.
“Go,” I urge before I lean forward for one more kiss. “And please don’t text me to come back until they take the placenta away this time,” I remind him. I wish I was kidding. It’s embarrassing as hell to almost pass out multiple times at the birth of your child.
Jake stands up straighter before he strides out of the room, enthusiastically yelling “catch me if you can, Bro!” in Rhett’s direction as he takes off jogging down the hall.
Jake
His eyes are identical to Tori’s. His hair is barely there, just a few light brown wisps on his slightly misshapen head. I can’t stop staring at him: looking at his perfect tiny hands. Admiring the pucker of his adorable little lips. When he suckles, he has a teeny dimple. Just on one side. Just like me.
A love I’ve only felt twice before overwhelms me as I stand in the middle of the hospital room, cradling my newborn son. My entire essence somehow leaves my body and is replaced with nothing but warmth as I hold him in my arms.
My son.
Matteo Everhett Vargo.
We have a son.
Cory enters the room; I feel it in my soul, just like I always do when he’s near, but I can’t tear my eyes away from our boy long enough to look up at my husband. When he’s close enough that his frame blocks out the harsh hospital fluorescents, Matteo lets out a tiny whimper, and I finally look up.
Cory’s eyes are brimming with tears, but he’s got the biggest smile on his face.
“Do you want to meet our son?” I rasp, holding back tears of my own.