She wanted a home birth, and I was on board, because that meant no hospitals to remind me of the tumor still in existence in my head. Going under the knife was my last priority, and the chance I might be different wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
I never did press my mother when she mentioned Dr. Lancaster alluding to some fucked up concept of control. I wouldn’t put it past her to have paid the good doctor to have faked some scans and deliver the news.
The Clave was child’s play when it came to controlling me. My mother was the real threat to my happiness.
It was unheard of: a woman loving all three versions of my kind of crazy. I wasn’t about to make it four if things went wrong and I developed another version of myself.
Or if it was all a lie and there was no tumor at all.
“Abigail? Are you okay?”
“My water broke. I’m definitely in labor.” Her voice was smooth with a satin finish, making it hard to tell if she was in any pain.
I was sure Abigail never showed pain; she hadn’t yet, absorbing it like fuel.
“I’ll be right there. Just keep pacing. I read it helps.”
I never said those three words out loud around other people, but this moment she needed to hear it: “I love you, Abigail.” Pressing the red end-call button, I put my phone in my pocket.
“Call your mom. Abigail is in labor.” Tucking the ring box in my hoodie pocket, I was already leaving the room and questioning when Khaos got so soft. His eyes were glassy and wet.
Khaos’s mom was Abigail’s doula—pretty much the ancient version of a nurse and one of the only people I trusted right now. A hospital posed way too much risk.
Jogging down the stairs, I plucked my card from the blonde’s fingers and headed out the door with Khaos on my heels, just as a skateboarder rolled by, cutting us both off.
Expecting Khaos to drool once again, I rounded my car while he shouted, “Watch where you're going!”
A female that Khaos didn’t get aroused and flirty for? Color me shocked as fuck as I got in my car, focused on Abigail. I was about to leave him there and not care one ounce.
He was still fuming, looking out the window at the skateboarder, trying to pull up his mom’s contact without looking down at his phone.
After he called his mom and texted for probably longer than my average conversation, he freaked out. “Fucking bitch! She stole my watch.”
The skateboarder was multi-talented: not interested in Khaos and had sticky fingers I didn’t even notice.
Checking my hoodie, the ring box was still there, safely, thank god.
Ignoring his antics and sudden mood swing given to him by the blonde skateboarder. She was the least of my worries, with Abigail pacing in our kitchen about to give birth. Well, sometime in the next 24 hours realistically.
She didn’t think I was prepared or reading the books she gave me, but I was. I could probably deliver our daughter safely; that’s how prepared I was.
“I called a priest. Don't worry. The Clave has one on call.” Khaos’ voice rang out and dragged me back to reality. The anxiety of being out of control was burning my body as I repeated the signs of labor in my head silently.
“A what? Why?”
Pulling into my driveway, I barely parked before I got out of the car and jogged inside to Abigail.
“Well, I can’t shout it now! I’ll call the guys and get an ETA.” I heard him shout behind me, but I wasn’t listening at all. The anxiety was ringing in my ears, making it hard to hear anything else.
6 hours later…
The only way I knew Abigail was in any pain was how hard she squeezed my hand, our scars lining up where we all cut our palms to give her our blood.
She did more than show me how even the ugly parts of me deserved love; she brought the wool down on my life and brought four fucked-up guys together again.
Same book, same damn page.
Everything about labor is stressful, even if you aren’t the one in the direct line of fire or even behind the trigger. Khaos’s mom kept repeating breathing remedies that I wasn’t doing alongside Abigail to motivate her but to calm myself down.
I needed all the support I could get between an Xanax pill and the shot of whiskey I had with the guys to celebrate the coming of my daughter.
Bo walked into my bedroom, where everything was happening, with a priest behind him and a scowl on his face.
“What’s this guy doing here?” Hiking a finger over his shoulder.
Our bed was about to be tainted with the mental image of my daughter crowning for longer than I would like. Preferably the same amount of time until the stitches heal, and we could get back to having sex.
Abigail looked worried and uncomfortable all at the same time, while grunting through another long push. “This isn’t great timing… I get it, but it never is when you realize you have something important to say.”
Khaos was behind his mother, who was between Abigail’s legs when I threw one of the extra pillows at him. “Everyone out! Priest, you stay, get your Bible out.”
Waiting for everyone to exit, I kissed Abigail’s knuckles one by one between my words. “Marry me. There’s no other way to say it.”
Pulling the box from my hoodie pocket, I put it in her hand, knowing she wouldn’t want me to let go of her hand. I watched her open it slowly, and her mouth fell open. She was sweating, covered by a sheet instead of a gown, and she still couldn’t be any more beautiful.
“Three stones? Jason, Grimm, Death?”
She knew without me even telling her, and it only cemented how I felt.
“You accepted me, all of me.” Turning to the priest, I gave him a nod to start whatever he needed to in order to bind us together.
Bo was still lurking in the shadow, and none of us noticed until he ripped the Bible from the priest’s hands. He tossed it behind after his eyes followed the priest out of the room.
“I’m ordained. We don’t need God being invited to watch. You ready?”
I was still stunned by everything happening, anxiety ringing in my ears, and a fullness to my life I hadn’t felt until I met Abigail, when I nodded.
Without the help of a Bible, Bo spoke, “Song of Solomon: Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. Set me as a seal upon your heart. I pronounce you, Abigail Duffy and Jason Rothschild, man and wife.”
Bo only took a pause to breathe in new air, oxygen that wasn’t doused in emotion, before he exited the room. Khaos’s mom was still guiding Abigail to keep pushing when our lips brushed against each other, and a whispered, “I love you,” slipped from our mouths at the same time.
“Oopsie daisy,” Khaos’s mom said, and both of our eyes jerked her direction to make sure our little girl was okay. “She’s already running away. Strong willed.”
Abigail didn’t cry, didn’t let people see her as vulnerable and certainly didn’t showcase her pain, ever, but right now she couldn’t help it. The tears pooling at her lower lash line overflowed, and she was perfectly okay being this kind of happy.
Kissing her cheek, I whispered to her, “Daisy, that’s it.”
She looked at me, shocked in a way I had never seen, even when I told her I killed people for a living or was in a cult. “You read the books?”
“Of course I read the books. You highlighted Daisy, and she just said it. I don’t believe in fate, but that’s some shit we can’t overlook.”