Page 85 of Wild Card

Epilogue Two

Catriona

One Year Later

“Jesus, I hate you,” I hiss.

Gio holds my hand, his brow knit with deep concern.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says. “One contraction at a time, okay?”

Easy for him to say. They’re coming hard and fast now, lasting for nearly two minutes, with less than a minute rest in between. A wave of pain grabs me and I scream at the intensity of it, gripping Gio’s hand.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.”

They don’t call it labor for nothing. I’m sweating from pain and exhaustion. It’s been a long labor, and if I can’t squeeze this kid out, I’m going to have to go in for a c-section soon. I scream again as another contraction rips through me. How did my mother do this six times? I don’t have time to wonder before the pain starts again.

“You’re fully dilated,” my doctor says. “You’re doing great, Catriona. Time to push.”

I don’t know if I have the energy for it. It’s been nearly 72 hours now, though this part thankfully just started about an hour ago.

A savage pain tears through me and I cry out in agony, a raw, primal scream that leaves my throat ravaged. Gio keeps reminding me to breathe as my doctor encourages me to push.

“The baby’s crowning,” she says. “A few more pushes! You’re almost there.”

My body feels like it’s being split in half. I’m no stranger to pain, lord knows, but this? I’ve never felt pain like this in my life. I’m screaming and crying pitifully as contraction after contraction seizes me, and I try to push through it. I’m so tired, and I feel about ready to give up.

“The head’s out! Almost there!”

I push with everything I have left, and I feel my child leave my body in a heavy, wet gush, and a rush of voices swirl around me.

Gio kisses me, his eyes damp. Was he crying? Do I look that bad?

A series of painful contractions grabs me again as I deliver the placenta, and my doctor shouts for another bag of fluids.

Is my baby okay?

The doctor clamps the cord and holds it for Gio to cut, and he does it with shaking hands.

“It’s a boy, Beauty,” he says, kissing me again. “We have a son!”

They’re cleaning the baby. I want to see him.

“Please,” I murmur as my vision begins to fade. “Let me hold him?”

But I pass out before I get the chance.

When I open my eyes again, Gio sleeps in the chair beside me. Everything hurts.

And where’s my son?

I let out a small whimper, and Gio snaps awake in an instant.

“Catriona,” he cries, pressing kisses to my face. “I was so worried. You wouldn’t stop bleeding.”

“The baby?” I murmur.

“They took him to the nursery while you rested. He’s healthy, but he was big. That’s probably my fault. Nine and a half pounds.”

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