Page 164 of Rugger: The Huntress

Our son would be born in October, just a month and a few days shy of his mother’s birthday. I could hardly wait to kiss his cheeks and tell him all the wonderful things I’d learned about his mother since I first laid eyes on her around the same time a year prior. He’d be born in perfect timing.

“You want me to get your sister back over here?”

“No. I want you to tell your son to stop growing so fast. I’m a small girl.”

Our son was weighing in at six and a half pounds with seven weeks to spare. Roaman had made it clear that Rugger would be pushing out a ten-pound boy. She grew miserable every time she considered a baby of that size stretching her insides.

“You’re also six feet, Gazelle. His father and both grandfathers are over six feet. Yes, he will be a big boy, but you’ve got this, baby.”

“I knooooow,” she sighed, attempting to sit up in bed.

I closed the flap on the camera and placed it beside the bed. I extended an arm and offered Rugger the support she needed to lift herself up. When her back was finally against the wall, she looked up at me and shook her head.

“Never again,” she laughed, “So I hope you enjoy the next few weeks of this.”

“I plan to,” I sniggered as I rested my head against her belly.

“Psalem.”

“Huh?”

“Psalem. I was thinking about naming him Psalem. Just like your name, but with anemat the end.”

“Pronounced Sol or Say? You said it differently the second time.”

“Say– lem.”

“Psalem Rowan Santoro,” I finished.

“Psalem Rowan Santoro,” she repeated with a smile.

Psalem. The name was perfect.

“Whew. I’ve worked up an appetite,” Gazelle lied.

“Yeah? Doing what?”

“Thinking of his name.”

“You’re full of shit, baby,” I chuckled, standing up.

“Since you’re already up, you might as well go downstairs and grab me the tub of ice cream in the fridge and the Oreos from the pantry. Put a few in a ziplock bag and crush them up.”

“Were you dreaming about this shit? This sounds well thought out.”

“Yes, and my mouth was watering. That’s what woke me up. Now, please.”

She fanned me toward the door.

“I was going anyway, baby. You never have to beg. It might take me a while, but I’ll be back with your ice cream and cookies.”

I leaned over, gingerly, and kissed her pursed lips.

“Thank you.”

I began the journey to the kitchen. Just as my feet crossed the threshold, her voice stopped me in my tracks.

“I love you.”

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