Page 116 of By the Letter

I watched her flushed face, beautiful in the power behind it. God, she was so small, but she contained the ferocity of a lion. If I hadn’t been completely in love with her before we’d walked into this room, this would have done it. There was nothing like seeing her gather her strength and use it as a weapon to fight through what I imagined was unbearable pain. And she did it with grace. Pure, beautiful grace.

“Okay, one more big push and his head will be out,” Dr. Sharma announced. “Can you give me a big push, Shira?”

“Yes,” she declared, her chin digging into her chest.

Holding her leg and her hand, I leaned forward, watching as my son’s head magically, miraculously emerged from Shira’sbody. Rivers swelled within me, climbing up my throat until I had to let out a choking sob.

“That’s it.” I kissed Shira’s knuckles. “He’s almost here. You’re doing amazing, baby.”

“Give me one more,” the doctor said.

Shira did. She gave one more hard push, her fingers squeezing the life out of mine, and then he was out. The doctor lifted him and placed him on Shira’s chest. A nurse rubbed him with a blanket while another suctioned his nose and mouth. I stood stock-still, the reality of my son being in the world striking me dumb and useless.

His angry, indignant wail rocked me out of my stupor, and everything changed. I bent down, putting my head beside Shira’s to meet our son together.

“Look at him, Rome,” she sobbed, running her fingertips along his back. “He’s really here.”

“You did that.” Thick emotion coated my throat, and my vision blurred from the well of tears threatening to spill. “You brought our boy to us. He’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t he?” she choked out. “He’s massive too.”

A laugh blended with a sob broke free, and my lips fell on her wet cheek. I tasted salt from her tears and sweat. And underneath, the sweetness of her skin. She turned to me, taking her eyes off our squalling boy for a moment to kiss my lips.

“I love you so much,” I murmured against her mouth.

“I love you too,” she cried softly. “You can touch him, Rome. He’s yours, you know.”

I jerked with the realization I hadn’t given myself permission to reach for him. It hadn’t really hit me that he was real and actually here with us.

“He’s mine,” I whispered, laying my hand on his back, right below Shira’s. “God, he’s so warm.”

It was surreal to finally touch the body I’d been feeling inside Shira’s belly the last few months.

Her giggle crackled with tears. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Warm and perfect.”

“So perfect,” I agreed, since there was no other word for this tiny human we’d created together. No matter what he did or who he became, I’d always clutch his first moments close. My perfect boy, given to me by his magnificent mother.

I’d known it before, but it was cemented then. This woman and the family we created were my whole world. More than I’d ever thought I’d have. I would do everything in my power to be their pillar to lean on, their cushion to fall on, and the open arms for them to run into. It didn’t matter if she gave me one baby or seven; my arms would be big enough for all of them.

Chapter Forty-one

Shira

I stroked the softcurve of my son’s cheek as he suckled at my breast. Dimly, I was aware my entire body was one giant ache, but the one I felt most acutely was in my chest. A sweet, unbearable pressure, as if my heart had grown too large to be contained, pressing against its bony cage.

Breathlessly in love, I surveyed his miniature features.

“I don’t know who he looks like,” I whispered to Roman, who was attached to my side, an anchor in the new world we’d been launched into together.

“Maybe some of both of us,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. He dragged a blunt fingertip along Jonah’s cheek, ending at the cleft in his chin. “This is all me, though.”

Hearing his father, Jonah's mouth stilled, and he unlatched with a small, wet pop. His heavy-lidded eyes rolled around a bit before fluttering closed. Drops of colostrum dotted his pink rosebud lips. After he’d been cleaned up and examined, a nurse had brought him to me, and he’d latched on hungrily, nursing for nearly an hour. That meant Roman hadn’t gotten to hold him yet.

“It’s your turn.” I offered Jonah to his father. “Take him, honey.”

Jonah was a big baby, even bigger than predicted at nine and a half pounds and twenty-two inches, but when Roman took him and tucked him against his chest, he looked tiny.

Roman’s watery eyes met mine as he grinned from ear to ear. “My boy.” He rubbed his cheek against Jonah’s head, covered in a blue-striped cap, and sighed the kind of sigh only a man meeting his child for the first time could make. “He feels so fucking good.”

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