Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
The weight of his words settles over me. This is a game-changer. As much as I love Damien, this has been an issue between us for our entire relationship, and now he’s willing to give it up. Just like that. And he’s giving me a choice he’s never truly had.
“Right now, the only role I want is being his mom. At least until he’s older. Maybe later I’ll want more, but for now, I want to be there for him.”
His thumb strokes my hand. “That sounds perfect. Being his mother is the most important job there is. And when you’re ready, you’ll have more. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
The baby kicks then, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Little man is already celebrating the news.”
Damien grins. He rises, comes around the table, and crouches in front of me. His hand spreads wide over my belly.
“You keep growing strong in there,” he murmurs to our son. “Because when you come out, you’ll have everything you’ll ever need. A mother who loves you and a father who will never let you down.”
I brush my fingers through his hair, overwhelmed. “You’re going to be a good father, Damien.”
His eyes lift to mine, and for once, I see a flicker of doubt. “I hope so.”
“You will,” I say firmly. “Because you already love him more than anyone else could.”
He kisses my stomach, then rises and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is slow, deep, full of all the promises we’ve spoken tonight.
For a while, we sit together in the quiet, talking about baby names, teasing each other over which ones sound too old. He insists on strong names. I tease that I’ll veto anything that sounds like a Roman emperor. We laugh until my cheeks hurt. And then, something strange happens.
It starts as an odd pressure. I shift in my chair at the dining table, thinking maybe it’s another of those late-pregnancy aches that have become a daily nuisance. Then it happens again, sharper this time, and suddenly warmth spreads across my thighs. My breath catches in my throat as I realize what’s happened.
My water just broke.
For a moment I freeze, staring down as the realization floods me with a rush of panic and excitement. Damien notices instantly. He’s out of his chair in less than a second, at my side, steadying me with those strong hands that have always made me feel safe.
“Lyra,” he says firmly, his voice low and steady, “we’re going to the hospital now.”
He isn’t panicked or frantic. His calm steadies me even as my heart begins to race.
The next few moments blur together. He helps me stand, slips my shoes on my feet, and grabs the hospital bag he packed weeks ago. I remember teasing him about being too prepared, but right now, I’m grateful for it. He keeps one arm wrapped tightly around me as he guides me through the penthouse, his jaw tight with focus. I can feel the tension in his body, the coiled energy ready to fight any obstacle between me and safety.
By the time we reach the private elevator, the first contraction grips me, low and deep, making me gasp. I grab his arm and cling to him. He leans close, speaking softly against my ear. “Breathe with me, Lyra. In and out. I’m here.”
His voice anchors me through the pain until it eases. He presses a kiss to my temple and leads me into the waiting car. His driver has already pulled up.
In the car, the contractions come in steady waves, and each one takes more out of me. Damien stays beside me in the backseat, holding my hand so tightly my fingers ache, though I never ask him to let go. He counts my breaths, wipes the sweat from my forehead with a handkerchief, and kisses the top of my head every time I manage to get through another wave. When I look at him, I see his eyes blazing with determination. He’s here for me through the worst of it.
When we arrive at the hospital, everything moves fast. The private obstetrician Damien hired is already waiting, along with a nurse and Becca, who hurries over with tears in her eyes. She squeezes my free hand and whispers words of encouragement, and I’m overwhelmed with gratitude that she’s here, that she’s part of this moment. They wheel me into a private room, white and clean, filled with the steady beeping of machines and the quiet voices of the staff.
The doctor checks me and explains that it will take some time. I nod, though a part of me wants to beg for it to be over already. The contractions grow stronger, rolling through me with a power I can barely comprehend. I clutch Damien’s hand with each one, leaning into his strength. He murmurs to me in Russian and English, words of love and promises that I’m the bravest woman he’s ever known.