Page 213 of The Catalyst

“You’re so close, Beth!” the doula, Alisha, encourages from behind me, as she rubs my back. “Your baby is crowning. You’re almost there.”

Oliver lifts my face as my bottom lip trembles, and he holds my gaze with his icy blues, dragging me into his undertow. I could drown in him all day. He steals a passionate kiss before pressing his forehead to mine.

“You’ve got this, babe. You’re the strongest person I know. You can make it through anything,” he mutters zealously before pressing a quick peck to the tip of my nose.

“Are you with me?” I ask, barely holding in the sob at not just the pain but his words.

“Yeah. I’m with you. Always, crazy girl.”

I slowly shake my head. “Not always. Forever. It’s more indefinite. You can’t get rid of me now, Doyle.” The words are weak, but his confidence gives me the strength to soldier on.

He smirks before stealing one more kiss before my final contraction pulls me under the waves of agony. I scream with everything in me, my nails digging into his shoulders, and I push as hard as I can until the pressure ends, and Alisha gasps aloud.

“He’s out!” I completely fall into Ollie’s arms as he sits down in the pool. I don’t care that we’re in a small body of water full of my blood and probably a few other things. I have no energy. Turning around in Ollie’s arms, I look upon Alisha as she holds a small bundle in her arms and seems to be pushing her fingers into his mouth. I’m about to throw a fit, but then he coughs, she removes her fingers, and he cries. “There you go, little guy,” she coos, but Rian looks like he wants to claw her eyes out. He’s so vicious for such a tiny thing. I can just imagine the force of nature he will be once he’s all grown up.

Alisha trudges through the water and leans down, placing Rian in my arms without the towel. “Skin-on-skin contact is great for newborns,” she explains before pulling away. It doesn’t take much to unbutton my top, and I don’t care who sees my boobs. Rian gripes and moans, kicking about until he’s flat against my chest. Then, his eyes open, flashing icy blue eyes…eyes just like his father’s, and he stares at me. I’m not sure if he can see me yet, but staring at his pure, innocent face, I fall madly in love with this little boy, more so than I have been until this point.

“Hey, Rian.” I grin at him, and Oliver’s hand reaches out, gently stroking Rian’s hair. I snap my head around, and Oliver is watching him just as intently as I was.

“Morning, crotch goblin.”

My eyes widen as Alisha, Vera, and Judy try their best to stifle their laughter. I glare at him as Rian starts crying.

“What?” He grins at me as I coddle the sweet infant.

“You made him cry with that crap.”

He shrugs. “I always call him that, and I probably always will. Get used to it, babe. He’s a crotch goblinanda semen demon.”

I roll my eyes. Oliver is very stuck in his ways, and no amount of bitching from me will make him stop calling our son those vile names, but there are worse things he could call him. Rian is too young to know the difference. Maybe with time, he’ll stop. I relax into Ollie’s arms as Rian settles again, going back to staring at us. After a few minutes of peace, Ollie kisses my temple with a sigh.

“I knew you could do it, crazy girl. You’re so strong,” he rasps in my ear, and butterflies swarm in my stomach.

“Not me.We.” I smile. “I didn’t do this alone. It was a team effort.”

If it wasn’t for Ollie, Judy, and Vera, Rian wouldn’t be here, lying against my chest so peacefully. I have a son, and he’s healthy because of the wonderful people around me.

Ollie holds me close, and Rian coos in time with my heartbeats until I nearly fall asleep.

Then, Alisha says it's time to remove the rest of the placenta or something like that.

CHAPTER 85

OLIVER

My woman is a goddamn warrior. She gave birth to our son, then pushed out the placenta before she breastfed him. Only then could I convince her that she needed her sleep. So does the hellspawn.

Beth takes a shower before she climbs in bed, and she’s out before she even hits the pillow.

The doula left a while ago, and Vera and Judy quickly leave as soon as I walk back into the living room where the boy lays in his bassinet–if you can even call it that. It’s a weaved basket with padding at best, but it’s what we have to work with. We had to fork out a lot of money to the doula for her discretion and for her not to charge Beth’s insurance.

Rian lays peacefully in the basket, fully clothed and comfortable, but his eyes are open, looking around. I guess spending nine months sleeping means he has a lot of energy. He’s so quiet, though.

I’ve never liked babies or kids. They make too much noise and constantly want more and more until you snap. Then, you feel bad because they’re just kids who don’t know any better. I keep my distance, but his eyes follow me as I move through the kitchen. I have no fucking clue if he can actually see me or if he’s just following the shadow that moves in the dim light pouring through the window.

I make myself a glass of water, and he’s still watching me like a creepy stalker.

“What?” I finally say as I place the glass on the counter. His jaw drops open with a yawn, but he keeps watching me. “You must want something. That’s why you keep looking at me, huh?”

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