Page 147 of Toxic Salvation
Did I say that?“Maybe I was a little?—”
“Panicked?” She smiles. “It’s okay. I’m nervous, too.”
I sit beside her on the narrow bed. The mattress dips under my weight. “Yeah. I am nervous.”
Her smile grows. “Good. We can figure this out together. And Luka will help where we mess up.”
I pull her against my side, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with hospital antiseptic. “Never thought I’d have this. A real family.”
“Me neither.” She looks up at me. “I thought medicine would be enough. Saving other people’s children. But this—” She rests her hand on her belly. “This is different.”
She tenses suddenly, her face scrunching.
“Contraction?” I ask.
“Yes. They’re getting closer. Maybe an hour before things get serious.”
“Where’s the damn doctor?” I start to stand, ready to hunt down medical staff.
Vesper grabs my arm. “The nurses checked me twenty minutes ago. I’m only five centimeters and I need to be ten before the baby comes. The doctor doesn’t have to be here yet.”
“You can stop being a doctor now. You’re the patient.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t turn it off.”
“Neither can I.” I settle back down but keep scanning the hallway through the open door.
“We should talk about names,” she says, an obvious ploy to distract me from my protective instincts. “Do you have any ideas?”
“I haven’t really thought about it with everything else going on.” I sigh and run a hand over my face. “It needs to be strong, though. Something he can grow into.”
“A Russian name?”
“I’d love that. If you want it, too, that is.”
She brings my hand to her lips and kisses my knuckles. “I have one in mind. Want to hear it?”
The simple gesture calms me more than it should. This woman knows exactly how to handle me. “Tell me.”
“Vitalii.”
That knocks me sideways. I take a deep breath to steady myself, then I place my palm flat against her stomach, imagining a little boy with Krayev green eyes. “Vitalii.”
“Just a suggestion,” she’s quick to say. “If it’s too hard, naming him after your brother?—”
“No. I like it. Love it.” The name feels right. “Vitalii Krayev.”
Vesper beams. “Perfect. But he needs a middle name. Something to set him apart.”
I squeeze her hand and offer up a bombshell of my own. “What about Thomas?”
Her grip tightens. “You want to name our son after my father? The man who was part of an organ trafficking ring?”
“I want to name him after the man who raised you,” I correct. “Who taught you to save lives. Thegoodparts of your father.”
Tears spill down her cheeks. She rubs her belly in slow circles. “Thomas.”
“Only if you want to.”
