Kayla pulls over a rolling stool for Lucas and he sits at my side, reaching over to touch various parts of our son.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Kayla says. “I’ll be close if you need me.”
I’m not sure how long we sit and stare at Mitchell. We watch as his little eyes flutter open and closed. As he squirms just a bit, like even those small movements are a lot for him. As he sleeps. As he breathes.
Hours later, I can’t keep my eyes open despite my earlier nap.
“Come on,” Lucas says. “You need sleep. I’ll get you settled and come back and sit with him.”
He calls Kayla over and she puts Mitchell back. I gaze into his incubator saying a silent goodbye.
It’s almost midnight when we get back to my room. I pee again and get into bed. I can’t help it when the waterworks start again. “What if… what if it happens again and that was the last time I ever see him?”
Lucas takes my hand. “That is not going to happen.”
“But you can’t be sure. Lucas, our baby almost just died.”
He tenses and his shoulders shake. He’s trying to hold it together for me, but like me, he’s about to fall apart.
“How can I fall asleep knowing he could stop breathing?” I ask through my tears. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep.”
“You have to. For him. You’ll be no good to him if you aren’t rested.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I can.”
“Can I try something?”
I shrug.
He drops my hand, crosses the room, turns out all the lights, then gets up on the bed. “Scoot over a bit,” he says.
“But Mitchell needs you.”
“You need me too, Regan. Please.”
I scoot over and he settles in next to me. He wraps an arm around me, and instinctively, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I nestle my head into his shoulder.
“I’m here for you, Regan. You and Mitchell.” I can feel the wind of his voice through my hair. His face is tucked against my head. He kisses me. “I’m here for you.”
I cry in his arms. I cry for Mitchell. I cry for myself. I cry for the man whose very arms surround me like those of a husband. A lover. A life partner. And I cry knowing he’ll never be any of those.
And as his steadfast arms envelop me, I realize this big, strong, virile man is crying too.
Chapter Forty-three
Regan
Light is pouring through the window. I throw an arm over my eyes, groaning. But then I bolt up, fully awake once reality sets it.
Mitchell.
Lucas is sleeping on the couch under the windows.
“Lucas,” I call, getting out of bed and into my slippers.
He wakes, taking a moment to orient to where he is, and sits up quickly. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. I mean, I think. Why did you let me sleep that long?”