Page 121 of More Than Words

ADRIAN

Minneapolis

“It seems fitting that she tried to make her appearance on Valentine’s Day.” Technically, she’d been born on February 15 th, but she’d given us a hell of a Valentine’s Day.

“Why’s that?”

After a moment of silence, Isobel’s eyes rolled as she looked up toward me, likely recalling how we’d spent Valentine’s Day the year before. Back at that publishing conference and dancing around each other with a bucket full of unresolved sexual tension.

“Because it was the first time you—“

She cut me off with a quiet growl. “You better not say it was the first time I gave you a blowjob.”

“While that was quite memorable. It wasn’t what I was going to say.”

Her lips pursed, a look I was quite familiar with, but I continued anyway, reaching down with my fingertip to push a wayward lock of sweaty blonde hair from her forehead.

While she’d looked fucking radiant in her bridesmaid’s dress last night, I think I preferred her disheveled look after having spent the last few hours bringing our daughter into the world. I knew she was a badass, but watching her earlier, I was seeing how strong she was through fresh eyes.

Even though she’d been torn between all the new obligations at work and struggling with the guilt of knowing things would look different from what we’d planned, when she looked at our daughter for the first time it was like a piece of her that’d been missing settled into place. I just hoped that I was a part of their puzzle.

“It was the first time you gave me any sort of sign that my five-year long, one-sided crush on you might be reciprocated.”

Her gaze softened; the worry lines that’d been an almost constant presence for the last four months eased in a way that gave me hope we’d all get through this.

“Although if I’d known then that she was going to be the result, I’d have chased you down and knocked you up a long time ago. You were meant to be her mama, Is.”

What I left unsaid was I hope I’m meant to be yours too.

“Can we go see her?”

“They’ll make you go in the wheelchair. Please don’t argue with the nurses. You just gave birth, so I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“I don’t care how they get me there. I just want to see her. Make sure she’s okay.” Her voice cracked and her chin quivered as she tried to hold back tears. “Make sure I didn’t fail her.”

“Is, no.” Sitting down beside her, I pulled her forward until her face was buried in my neck. “You have been amazing through this whole thing. You didn’t fail her. She’s strong and beautiful, just like you. And she’s a fighter, just like you. She’ll be alright. We’ll make sure she’s alright.”

Isobel was quiet as I called for the nurse and helped her get settled into the wheelchair. She didn’t talk the entire trip to the NICU, picking at the blanket in her lap. Her silence ate at me. I knew she was beating herself up the baby had arrived earlier than planned. But there wasn’t anything we could change, so we just had to roll with it.

“What did you tell them her name was?”

“I was waiting for you,” I confessed, and she finally looked up at me, a faint smile pulling at her lips. We hadn’t been 100 percent sure what her name was going to be, and I didn’t want to take that away from her.

“Is mom ready to hold baby Blom?”

“Baby O’Neill,” she whispered, reaching for my hand and squeezing tightly as the nurse picked our daughter up from the bassinet.

“She’s gorgeous.” Isobel’s voice was reverent as the nurse placed the baby into her arms.

“She’s a pretty one,” the nurse agreed. “You can have Dad help get you settled with skin-to-skin if you’d like. He’s an old pro.”

I’d spent a half hour with her when I was here earlier until they’d needed to feed her.

“Did she eat?”

“She tried. Isn’t sure how to roll her tongue yet, but she’ll figure it out. If you want to nurse, you can offer the nipple to her, but don’t be discouraged if she doesn’t quite get a good latch. Once she’s a little older, we can have the lactation consultant work with you.”

The nurse quietly let herself out, and I watched Isobel take her daughter in for the second time. The first had been brief and chaotic, but this time seemed peaceful despite her melancholic mood.

---