Then I spent two days with my wife, giving her time to recover, and watching our daughter.
My wife is a fucking warrior. I walked into that room hearing the words, ‘I can’t.’ What I don’t think she realised—or still realises—is she was already doing it. And although I never want to see her in that kind of pain again, there is nothing more beautiful than watching my wife give birth. I couldn’t be prouder of her.
Right now, however, I’m worried about her.
I understand her need to be near our daughter. I couldn’t stop watching Rose—nor holding her if Lily put her down for five minutes.
That’s not what’s concerning me. What’s worrying me is her behaviour. Back at the hospital, whenever I tried to leave, she’d go as pale as a ghost and begin to shake. When I did leave—only to use the bathroom—I came back to her freaking out. The nurses had to grab a paper bag for her to breathe into so she could get through the panic attack. It had been a bad one, and for a moment, I got scared she would pass out.
Thank God we had a great doctor and amazing nurses at our side because they gave Lily her own separate room and let me stay with her. Otherwise, I dread to think what might have happened.
I’ve also found her watching me over the past few days with a lost look in her gaze.
Now, on our way home, I can’t let it go on for a moment longer. It’s going to eat at her if she’s constantly worrying about me. And there is no way I want her first few weeks with our daughter to be about me and her fear of me leaving. Not that I’m going anywhere in the next couple of weeks.
“Angel?”
She twists back around in her seat after checking on Rose, something she knows she shouldn’t be doing since she had to have stiches when we arrived at the hospital. It’s what caused the bleeding during the birth. “Yeah?”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. A little sore still,” she replies softly.
“I mean about everything else.”
“What do you mean?”
I quickly flick the blinker on and pull over to the side of the road, not far from home. After placing the car into park, I turn to her. “You are worried about me. I see it every time you look at me.”
Her gaze flicks to the cut above my eyebrow. “You were hurt.”
“I know, Angel, but I’m good now. You can stop worrying about me.”
She lowers her gaze. “I’ll always worry about you. You are my husband. I love you.”
I reach over, cupping her jaw, waiting until her gaze meets mine to reply. “That isn’t the same. It’s affected you. But you don’t need to worry about me. It was an accident and it’s over. And I know what Reid put you through was traumatic, but it’s good now. I’m good.”
She fiddles with her cardigan. “I got scared. I’m still scared. I really thought I had lost you, Jaxon. I can’t live without you.”
“You don’t have to, but even if you did, you could, Lily. You could because you have so much to live for.”
She doesn’t hide the anguish in her expression. “No, Jaxon, I couldn’t, because I’ll be dead inside. Maybe one day I’d pull through it, definitely for our daughter, but what we have, what we share, it can never be replaced. You are it for me.”
Her words make me wish I had punched Reid harder.
My wife, so kind with her words, generous with her time, and loving with her heart, is hurting. I want to fix it for her so badly, but I’m not sure I know how.
“Lily, you are it for me too, which is why you should know that nothing will ever stop me from getting home to you. Ever. I love you. I love our daughter. And our life is going to be beautiful. Your life will be beautiful.” I press my lips to hers, savouring her taste. She’s breathless by the time I pull away. “You can’t let your fear of me being hurt affect you. You can’t be scared every time I leave the room. It’s not healthy. I want you to be happy, to live carefree; not scared I won’t be coming back.”
She runs her hand up my arm, pressing it against the side of my neck. “I will try, I promise. I just need time. Everything happened so quickly, and I’m… I’m still processing.”
“I know,” I tell her, leaning in for another kiss. “Now that’s sorted, is there something else you want to talk to me about? I’m not sure if it’s about the accident or what, but sometimes I get the feeling you want to talk to me about something.”
“Actually, um, there is,” she tells me, her voice hesitant, low.
I link our fingers together, giving her a gentle squeeze. “What is it, Angel?”
“First, I’m going to need you to be really honest. I don’t want you to say okay, if it’s not really okay, or say what you think I want to hear. I just… I need you to be honest, okay?”
I tense a little, wondering what this is about. “Go on,” I demand softly.
“I need to know that if I were to stop working, will we be financially stable? I have savings, but they won’t last forever,” she explains, glancing down for a moment.
I hadn’t been expecting that. “You love your job, Angel; why wouldn’t you want to work?”
She runs the palm of her hand down her thigh. “I want to be a mum. I want to be at home and watch her grow. Maybe when she’s a little older or at school, I can go back. But right now, I don’t want to be a working mum. But I will if it’s something we need to do financially. I don’t want you to carry the burden.”
I give her a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve got you both covered. We are good. I promise,” I tell her, but a small smile reaches my lips. “But why until Rose goes to school? What about our other children?”
She throws her head back, laughing. “I’ve just given birth and you are already planning for our next baby.”
“Anything to keep you tied to me.”
Her brows scrunch together. “I’m already tied to you. Our child, or future children, won’t change that. You are it, remember?”
I grin before pressing my lips to hers. Her taste is as sweet as ever.
Fuck, my wife can kiss. The doctors said six to eight weeks until we could be intimate again, but fuck, she’s killing me.
Her tongue flicks against mine, and I groan.
She pulls back, her lashes fluttering. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I rasp. “Now, it’s time to get my girls home.”
“I like the sound of that. It feels weird without Rose in my arms.”
I put the car into gear and pull away from the curb, chuckling. “You are going to make bedtimes difficult if you don’t put her down.”
“Like you are any better,” she teases.
“She’s like her momma, so goddamn beautiful, so of course I don’t want to let her go.”
“I understand my brother now more than ever. He didn’t like anyone holding Sunday either. I thought it was because he didn’t trust anyone, but he just didn’t want to let her go.”
“I think somewhere deep down it was because he didn’t trust anyone with her. Apart from you. I’ve never seen him have an issue with you having Sunday.”
We round the corner of our street, and whatever Lily is about to say gets stuck in her throat as she inhales sharply. “What is going on?”