“I can,” I agree weakly with a nod.
“I know you can. So let’s do this.”
The contraction comes again, bigger this time, and the baby’s heart rate increases. I focus on the sound of my girl’s heart and push with all my might. The doctor says the head is out and Drew lets go of my hand to go look, his eyes wide and his face pale as he stares. I start to laugh because the entire moment is so freaking surreal, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to look at my lady parts in the same way again.
Well. That’s a sobering thought.
But yeah, I can’t focus on that now. I’m giving birth to a baby, for the love of the God.
“One more push and she’s here,” the doctor advises with a small smile. “Get ready, Fable.”
Drew is back at my side, gripping my hand, his sole focus on me. “Ready to meet her?”
I nod, so overcome with emotion I press my lips together to hold back the sob. I’m beyond ready to meet her. And she’s beyond ready to meet us if the next contraction is any indication, because it’s a doozy.
“Push!” the doctor yells, and I do. I push so hard I can feel the baby slithering out of me. “She’s here!”
Within seconds she starts to wail and so do I, relief and love and exhaustion flooding me all at once. Drew kisses me, tells me he loves me, and then the doctor is asking him to cut the umbilical cord and he does, looking nervous as he takes the surgical scissors and snips it. The nurse hands him the baby and he holds her like a football. She looks so tiny, his big hand sprawled around the back of her head, and he brings her to me, a dopey smile on his face as he presents our daughter to me for the first time.
“Want to hold her, Mama?” he asks.
I tug the hospital gown down so my chest is exposed and Drew settles her there, her little face smashed against me. Her hair is black, her body red, and she makes these weird snorting noises as she noses around my breast. “She’s perfect,” I whisper, touching her head, smoothing her downy soft hair with the tip of my index finger.
“Yeah, she is.” He stares down at the two of us in wonder. “I can’t believe she’s here.”
“I can’t believe you made it,” I say, grabbing my daughter’s hand and touching her fingers. They’re so tiny, so perfectly formed, and I glance up at Drew, tears shining in my eyes. I can barely see him but I notice tears are shining in his eyes, too. “I love you,” I whisper, my throat raw, my heart swelling.
“I love you, too. This is a miracle, Fable. We have a baby.” He shakes his head, settling his hand on our daughter’s back. “She’s beautiful.”
“She is,” I agree, gazing at her. I readjust her and try to bring her to my breast and she latches on just like she’s supposed to, her eager little mouth pursed around my nipple and tugging. My heart fills with love and joy and I trail my fingers across her soft cheek, feeling the tears fall.
“Are we still going to name her what we planned?” he asks.
I nod, staring at her. I’m fascinated with her sweet little wrinkled face, her wiggly little body. She feels good, nestled in my arms, snug against my bare skin. I don’t even know her, we only just met, but my love for her grows so big and bright it’s overwhelming. Powerful. I’d do anything to protect this little person. Anything. “Welcome to the world, Autumn,” I whisper. “Your daddy and I are so glad you’re here.”
She lets go of my nipple when I finish talking, her big blue eyes staring up at me. I see it all in her face at that exact moment. Autumn recognizes my voice; she knows I’m her mama and for whatever reason, I can tell she’s going to be wise beyond her years. She’ll probably give us endless grief. Stubborn like her mama and too quiet with her problems like her daddy. She’ll be smart and beautiful and strong and fearless. That’s what I want most for her. That she’ll be fearless and unafraid to face anything. Autumn will believe she can do anything she sets her mind to. Nothing will ever get in her way.
That’s what I wish for my daughter.
It’s the least that she deserves.
Chapter Eleven
Drew
I exit the bathroom wearing only a towel, the steam from my extra-hot shower billowing out of the open door, surrounding me like a thick fog. I head toward my dresser to grab something to wear when I stop short at the sight before me, my breath lodged in my throat, my heart stuttering in my chest.
Fable is on the bed, her shirt yanked above her full breasts. She’s fast asleep, lying on her side, cuddling Autumn in the ring of her arm, who’s also asleep. Rosebud lips pursed, chubby cheeks pink, my girl must’ve been nursing on her mama and slipped into slumber.
Just like my poor, exhausted wife did.
I stare at them because I can, completely overwhelmed at the love I have for these two beautiful females in my life. Fable’s been going at it full force since we brought Autumn home over two months ago, taking care of our daughter’s every need while I’ve been a selfish jackass off playing football.
It’s your job, Fable tells me time and again. And Autumn’s my job. Don’t feel guilty.
But I do. I offered to hire a nanny but Fable refused. I offered to take them on the road with me because I miss them like f**king crazy, but she refused that, too.
Maybe next season, Fable told me. We’ll have more of a routine going by then.
I don’t know if I can wait that long. I miss them and the season has barely started. I want them to be a part of my routine. I feel like I’m losing out on all sorts of first times. How will I feel a year from now, when Autumn’s older and doing all of those momentous things no parent ever wants to miss? I don’t think I could stand it if I missed hearing her say her first word, seeing her take her first step.
Turning away from them, I go to my dresser and open a drawer, pulling out a pair of boxer briefs and putting them on. It’s my first day off in a while and I plan on spending every moment of it with Fable and Autumn.
“So. Not. Fair.”
Fable’s little groan makes me whirl around, concern racing through my veins. “What did you say?”
She’s awake, propped on one elbow, her hair in complete disarray around her head, falling past her shoulders. She tugs the T-shirt down over her chest, a grimace marring her delicate features. “Look at you. It’s disgusting.”
“What? Why?” Is she mad at me? Ever since she had the baby, she’s been on edge. Moody, weepy, determined, grumpy, happy, tired. Nothing out of control, but when I can’t gauge her mood, it’s a little disconcerting.
Fine. It’s a lot disconcerting. A moody Fable is a no-fun Fable.
A sigh escapes her as she shakes her head. “You’re beautiful, in the best condition of your life. I remember when we first met and I thought you were perfection then.”
I stand up a little straighter, giving a quick glance down at myself. She’s right. I am in peak condition. But I train my ass off. I should be in peak condition. “Uh, thanks?”
She starts to laugh. “You look scared. Don’t be. I’m not going all postpartum on you. I just … you look amazing and I look terrible.”
“Are you serious?” I’m incredulous. “You don’t look terrible.”
“I feel terrible. I rarely wear anything but yoga pants or sweats and T-shirts, and most of the time my clothes are stained with breast milk or spit-up or whatever.” She flops down on the bed, ever careful of the sleeping Autumn, who’s still tucked close by her side. “I’m scared, Drew.”
From misery to fear within seconds, her mood swings make no sense to me. Sometimes I have trouble keeping up with her. “Of what?” I go to the bed, scoop up Autumn, and settle in beside Fable, our baby resting on my chest. I can feel her warm little puffs of breath against my skin, her lips moving as she stirs and settles more comfortably against me, and I stroke her tiny back, reaching out with my other hand to cup Fable’s cheek. “Do you know how beautiful you are right now?”
She rolls her pretty green eyes, her lips curved in the faintest of smiles. “Give me a break.”
“I’m serious.” I stare at her, taking in her weary eyes, the dark circles that line them, her wild hair. She’s worn out and still so pretty. Guilt swamps me because I’ve done this to her. I’m the one who impregnated her, put her through labor, where she pushed out our baby after what felt like hours of torture—even though I wasn’t there in the delivery room that long—that made me want to lose my mind because there was nothing I could do for her to ease her pain. And then I leave her to go to training camp. Take off again to start the preseason, traveling around the country playing f**king football while she stays at home and raises our child.
Who’s doing the more important job here?
“What if you find someone better?” she whispers thinly, her eyes wide. “You’re going to be gone all the time. You have so many fans and they throw themselves at you, Drew. I know why. I get it. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re amazing out on that field. They want you.”
“But I only want you.” I tug her in close, holding both my girls to me. “We’ve had this conversation before,” I murmur against her hair. She smells good. She always smells good. So does Autumn. “I thought you understood how I felt.”
“Feeding that hungry baby at all hours of the night, my mind starts to wander,” she admits, her voice small.
“Well, make it stop. I don’t know what more I can do to prove how I feel about you.” I pause, staring into her eyes. “I love you. Only you. You’re it for me, Fable. You’re my wife and the mother of my child. You’ve seen me at my best, at my worst, and everything in between. I don’t want anyone but you. What you’ve given me, it’s the best gift I’ve ever received.” Leaning down, I brush her mouth with mine, feel her lips tremble.
“You mean Autumn? Because you had a hand in that, too, you know.”
Chuckling, I shake my head, cuddling our baby closer to my chest. “She’s a pretty awesome gift. But I’m talking about what you gave me from the very start. Before Autumn, before all of this.” I kiss her again, overwhelmed by what I feel for Fable, what I want to say to her. I don’t understand why she doesn’t know how much I love her. Need her. “Your unconditional love, baby. You never backed down. You never gave up on me. Ever. And I needed that. I was so screwed up but you never let that stop you, thank God.”
Tears are streaming down her cheeks and I swipe them away with my thumb. “I love you, Drew. So much.”
“I love you, too. Just because I’m traveling all over the country and have crazy women screaming at me doesn’t mean I love you any less. All that shit makes me love you even more. You’re my normal. My home. I miss you so damn much when I’m gone. I miss Autumn, too. I hate being away from you two.” I kiss her again, letting my lips linger on hers. She tastes sweet. Familiar. My heart thumps hard against my chest and my body stirs.
I’ve missed her. She was so uncomfortable those last few weeks pregnant with Autumn. And since then we haven’t had a chance to be together because of doctor’s orders and all that other bullshit. Plus, I’ve been gone.
Which means I’ve been without Fable for much too long. I need to rectify that.
Now.
“We hate when you’re gone, too,” she whispers against my lips. “But I understand, Drew. I never want you to feel guilty for working.”
“Too late.” I kiss her again, taking it deeper. A little sound of pleasure escapes her and I break the kiss, cuddle Autumn closer, and climb off the bed. “Going to put our little princess in her crib.”
“Wait.” Fable reaches out just as I turn and send her a stern look. She settles against the pile of pillows behind her, crossing her arms in front of her. “She might wake up.”
“She’s sound asleep,” I whisper as I glance down at my baby girl snug in my arms. She’s out, her lips parted, her eyes tightly closed, the spike of thick, dark eyelashes like little fans resting against her creamy skin. I may be a prejudiced bastard because she’s my baby and all but damn, she’s beautiful.
“Fine,” Fable says on a sigh, ever the overprotective mama. “Put her to bed.”
“Then I’m going to put you to bed,” I say, waggling my brows, making her laugh softly. “Be prepared, wife. It’s been way too long since I’ve had you na**d.”
Fable
Oh. No.
The last thing I want is Drew to see me na**d. I’m still carrying an extra ring of flab around my stomach and h*ps and everything just looks … weird. Plus, my boobs are enormous and while most men would probably love that, including my own man, I’m so self-conscious of those baby-feeding machines that I’m scared Drew will take one look at them and run.
Of course, the man wants to strip me na**d in broad daylight, not nighttime like every other married couple on the planet. At least, that’s how I always envisioned normal married couples doing it—safe and sound in their beds at night. But, no. The morning sunlight is shining through our bedroom windows, casting everything in a gentle, golden glow, and he will see everything.
Everything.
I can’t stand the thought, not with him looking so amazing. He’s bigger than he was when I first met him and I thought him huge then. He’s wider, more solid, every muscle defined. That sprinkling of dark hair at the center of his chest gets me, as does the trail of hair that leads from his navel downward. There is nothing I love more than admiring my husband’s body. Touching it. Knowing it’s all mine.