Page 49 of Parker

Chapter thirty-nine

Joel you’re having a baby. Ogle your ex-husband later.

He holds out his hand.

“Are you ready to have a baby, Mrs. Parker?”

“Joel, we’re not married anymore,” I say quietly.

“To me, you’ll always be my wife. Our divorce is a document. A piece of paper. It doesn’t change how I feel about you, the part of me that never stopped loving you.”

His words hang in the air.

“Let’s get to the hospital and have our son. We can figure out the details later.”

***

“You were amazing,” he whispers into my hair, kissing my forehead as tears of happiness run down his face. Joel sits next to my bed, holding my hand as our baby boy sleeps in his crib. “Although, you terrified me, again,” he murmurs.

Things became complicated at delivery. After twelve hours of unsuccessful labor, I’d been rushed in for an emergency cesarean section when our son became distressed.

Exhausted and bruised, I was cut open like haggis, and a new human was extracted from me before being sewn back together. The two of us were left in this private room, as if we knew how to look after the tiny sleeping human.

“Have you thought of a name?” he asks. His intent eyes search mine for answers.

“I don’t want any visitors yet,” I tell him. “Except Soph.”

He scowls—I’ve dodged the question.

“Anything. Anything you want. We don’t need to see anyone until you’re ready.”

Since we arrived in this room ten minutes ago, he’s shown me more affection than he has in weeks. The distance between us has evaporated.

A wail sounds from the crib. Dropping my hand, he stands immediately and crosses the room. He lifts his son from his crib and cradles his blanket-swaddled body in his arms.

“Your mummy is so clever. She made you, with a little help from daddy,” he tells him.

“I do have a name in mind,” I say, and he glances at me. “What do you think of Evan? After your father.”

“My father and I didn’t have the best relationship. I’m not sure he would appreciate the sentiment.” He trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Your family are all about values and traditions. Your father did what he did because of how he was raised, and the expectations placed upon him.”

Joel listens but says nothing.

“You’ve stepped up and become the Parker man he always wanted you to be. He would be proud of you. Our son will be the next generation. I want him to have a name that says that.”

Joel stills, his focus one hundred percent on the little boy in his arms for a few minutes before he says, “Hello, Evan. Welcome to the family.”

***

December 2021

“Close your eyes,” Joel instructs as he directs me toward the nursery with his hands on my shoulders. The door has been kept closed and locked. I wasn’t allowed to see inside until Evan arrived, and that was ten weeks ago.

A uterine infection, that traveled through my bloodstream and led the sepsis, meant an extended stay in the hospital. It spread fast and led to me lying unconscious for a few days in bed.

I could’ve come home earlier, but Joel insisted I stay where top medical attention was on tap. He hired out a whole floor, stationed guards at every entrance, and it was like our home away from home as I recovered and Evan lived his first few weeks of life.

“No peeking,” he scolds. Our son is nestled safely in my arms, sleeping soundly. He has no idea how excited his father is to show him the room that he won’t be using for a few more months.

We stand outside the door, and Joel pushes it open. A huge white rocking horse sits in the center with piles of wooden toys and books surrounding it. Each one has been individually wrapped with a blue bow.

Long white voiles hang in the windows. The walls are soft blue with a mural of the Glasgow skyline incorporating legendary cartoon characters painted across them. A white sleigh bed is laden with blue silk sheets and a giant white teddy bear.

“Joel,” I mutter, stunned. “It’s incredible.” My gaze flies around the room, taking in everything.

His eyes never leave my face as he assesses my reaction.

“It’s the most stunning nursery I’ve ever seen.”

He takes Evan from my arms and places him softly on a playmat on the floor. Then, returning to stand in front of me, he takes both my hands in his before lowering himself to his knees.

“Baby,” he says, “I love you. I will never be able to thank you enough for giving me the gift of a son. I’m so proud of you.”

I freeze, unsure where his speech is headed. During the weeks in the hospital, we as a couple weren’t discussed. He was there as Evan’s father. He repeated how grateful he was for me giving him a son, but the complications around our relationship were untouched.

With each kiss to my forehead or squeeze to my hand, I hoped there was something left to fight for. But he never let on. The one time I tried to bring it up, he said it could wait until I’d recovered and was home.

I wasn’t sure if he meant my home, his home, or our home. But now I know he meant here. This house, this moment, this family.

“You and Evan are my everything, Nicky. You gave me a son; you gave me back my heart. I know I failed you. I let my guilt build walls where I should’ve built bridges.

But I swear—whether you want me as your partner, your friend, or just Evan’s father—I’ll stand beside you for the rest of my life.

I’ll be yours in whatever way you’ll let me.

” He stands and places a soft kiss on my lips.

“I kept telling myself you were safer without me, but the truth is, I was scared. Scared I’d broken us beyond repair. Scared I wasn’t enough for you or him. But I’m done hiding from that. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. My heart’s always been yours—even when I didn’t deserve yours back.”

Broken by what we’ve been through, his words, and my need for him, my hands go to his hair, and I pull him toward me.

I rise on tiptoe, and our lips connect with urgency.

We kiss. Slowly and passionately, eyes closed, feeling every moment of our reunion together.

His arms snake around my waist, holding me tight against him.

He hardens against my stomach, and I smirk against his lips.

“Some things don’t change,” I whisper.

“You own me, baby. You always have. Every scar, every breath, every second I’ve lived since losing you.

I’ve been waiting for you to come home.” His lips move to my temple, and he trails kisses down the side of my face, pausing at my ear.

“Our fairytale is restarting tonight. I’m going to be your dark prince for eternity. ”

He promised me a fairytale before. Way back at the beginning, when everything still shimmered with promise. And now, after all we’ve endured, here he is. Changed. Bruised. Hardened. Still mine.

“You’ve always been the source of light in my life,” I murmur.

“Nicky, you’ve got that the wrong way ‘round. You’re mine.”

Evan wakes and fills the room with his urgent cries.

“Till later,” Joel whispers, releasing me from his grasp. He picks up his son, gently passing him to me, like he’s handing over the world. I settle down in the blue wingback chair in the corner of the room, ready to nourish my child while my man watches on.