Page 65 of Kneeling for Daddy
I don’t slow down. “I don’t know! I need Labor and Delivery, my?—”
“Fourth floor!” she cuts in sharply. “You need the fourth floor!”
“Thank you!” I shout over my shoulder, barreling through the lobby, ignoring the gawking eyes. I slap the button to call for the elevator, watching as it takes eons to travel from the twelfth to the eleventh floor.Of course the elevators are slow.I push through the fire door to the nearby stairwell.
Two at a time, I take the steps, each stride pounding adrenaline through my veins. I’m a man possessed, lungs burning and heart threatening to explode as I race toward the fourth floor. After I push through the door, I don’t slow. I actually begin running.
“King! What room is King?” I bark, my voice echoing down the hallway as I approach the nurses’ station.
A nurse’s eyes widen at my approach. “Room 412,” she answers quickly, motioning down the hall.
“412! Thank you!” I roar, moving like a hurricane. The hall stretches ahead, white walls and sterile lights, and the sound ofdistant monitors. Each step feels heavier than the last, my need to be there pressing me forward.
I round the corner, push through the door, and freeze. “Fuck… I missed it.”
Across the room, Ani has a tiny, swaddled human cradled in her arms. My chest swells at the sight, and I swallow the lump in my throat. She stares back at me with a soft expression, the serenity etched into every tiny line of her face. “Nik…” A small smile curves her lips as she eases the small bundle in my direction. “Your nephew is absolutely beautiful.”
“And I love you, Nik,” Eavan sighs from the hospital bed, carefully taking the baby from Ani. “But you didn’tmissanything. I wasn’t letting you in here for the actual birth.”
“Not the next one, either,” Enzo huffs. “You can sit in the waiting room just like her brother.”
“Next one?” Eavan’s eyes dart up to Enzo.
“Princess.” His fingers drag along her jaw. “The second the doctor clears you and you’re ready, I will fuck you day and night until you’re growing nice and round for me again. Eagerly.”
“Where are Cian and Madison anyway?” I ask.
“Getting my princess something to eat,” Enzo teases.
“Don’t say it like that,” Eavan sasses. “It has beenmonthssince I have had sushi. I would literally go on my own killing spree for a rainbow roll.”
The room buzzes with the quiet chaos of new life—nurses moving in and out, the faint beeping of monitors, and the soft whimper of the baby settling against Eavan’s chest. Enzo ishovering, not letting his wife or son out of his sight for a second. Ani and I stay a little longer than the rest, neither of us quite ready to pull away.
“You two don’t have to stay all night,” Eavan insists, her voice warm and sweet. “Go home. You both look as exhausted as I am.”
Ani bends over to press a kiss to Eavan’s cheek, then strokes a careful finger down the baby’s tiny face. “He’s perfect. You did so good.” Eavan’s eyes glisten, and for a moment, I can see the bond pass between her and my wife.
Enzo clears his throat. “Visiting hours start again at ten. You can see him more, then.”
“Try not to spoil him too much before we get back,” Ani teases softly, though her eyes linger on the swaddled little bundle longer than she means them to.
“Not possible,” Enzo shoots back with a smirk.
I step forward and rest a hand gently on Eavan’s shoulder. “Congratulations. He’s already got the best parents he could ask for.”
She blinks at me, tired but grateful. “Don’t make me cry again, Nik. With these hormones, I’m holding it together by a thread as it is.”
I give her a small nod before stepping back, sliding my hand into Ani’s. “Rest easy. We’ll come back tomorrow.” We say our goodbyes quickly, offering hugs and loving reassurances around the room.
The hallway is quieter than when I arrived. My fingers tighten around Ani’s, leading her toward the elevators, then downinto the hushed parking garage. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, and our footsteps echo against the concrete as we walk. Ani exhales like she has been holding her breath for hours.
I glance down at her, finding her free hand resting where her shirt stretches over the swell of her stomach—like she’s protecting what’s growing inside. “Soon, my little pet,” I muse, my soft voice breaking the silence. “I can’t believe how soon.”
“Me either.” She rubs over the bump as we walk, but I don’t miss the trepidation in her tone. Glancing over her shoulders, back toward the hospital, she murmurs in awe, “She was incredible.”
I turn to face her fully, catching both of her hands in mine and drawing them against my chest. She looks up at me then, her eyes bright but shadowed by the fear she doesn’t like to talk about.
“And you will be, too,” I insist, leaving no room for argument. Her gaze falters, dipping slightly, lashes lowering to hide the storm I know is raging in her head. Anxiety. Doubt. The fear of following in her mother’s footsteps and not coming home with her baby. I slip my fingers under her chin and tilt her face up to mine, forcing her to meet my eyes again.
