Losing You (Stars On Fire Book 4) (41 page)

“You think?” he said jokingly. She laughed at him and the smile stayed on her face. Her baby was coming! She was finally going to meet her son.

Marc

He got her to the hospital, made all the calls he was supposed to make. Now he stood in the waiting area, staring at her room. Mrs. Myers arrived in record time and was now with Lizzie. He wondered if Tom’s mother had been camping out at the hospital to make sure she was there for the birth of her grandson.

It was good that Mrs. Myers was in there with her. She knew what to do. Marc? Not a clue. Lizzie needed someone who knew what to expect.

But every now and again, her groans and cries of pain reached his ears and he wanted to rush in that room, and do what? . . . he didn’t know. Something. Anything. He felt so helpless out here.

“
Ahhh!!!
”

He cringed at her loud, drawn out cry. Then a nurse burst out of the room. His heart leapt to his throat, thinking something was wrong.

“Marc?” the nurse called out.

“Yes?”

“Elizabeth wants you in there.”

He rushed into the room, skidding to a halt when he saw her, exhausted, her head resting on the pillows, beads of sweat trickling down her face, her breathing labored.

“Elizabeth . . . sweetie. Marc’s here,” Mrs. Myers stated.

Lizzie whipped her head towards the entrance and smiled wearily at him, holding out her hand. She needed him and the feeling of helplessness dissipated. He grasped her extended hand and squeezed.

“Hi, beautiful. How are you holding up?” he asked, moving loose strands of hair that stuck to her gorgeous face.

“I’m tired.”

“I’m sure you are, but you’re doing a really good job.”

“God, it hurts,” she groaned as another contraction rolled over her. Her head fell back after it passed and she repeated herself, tears streaming from her eyes. “It hurts,” she cried, rubbing at the spot right above her heart. “Marc, it hurts.”

He knew she wasn’t talking about the contractions, but her heart, wanting Tom there. Her pained eyes locked on his and he knew. “I know,” he mouthed to her, then kissed her forehead, holding his lips there. “He’s here. Take a deep breath and feel him. He wouldn’t miss this. Breathe, Elizabeth, and feel.”

He repeated it until she did. “Again, beautiful. Deep and slow. That’s my girl.”

“Lizzie, let’s push with the next contraction,” her doctor ordered.

Through each and every push, Marc held her hand, kept his forehead to hers, and saw her eyes change when her son announced himself to the world with a big ol’ cry.

“It’s a boy, kiddo!” the doctor said, placing the newly born baby on her chest.

Mrs. Myers on the other side of them sobbed when she saw the baby. He looked just like Tom. His nose. His mouth. Here he was . . . his best friend’s son. Marc closed his eyes and let the tears come.

Lizzie

The smile on her face was never going to leave, Lizzie thought as she stared at her son, marveling at how much he resembled his father. She could already see it . . . the shape of his mouth, the turn of his ears, the color of his hair. God, she remembered when Tom’s hair had been that blond.

“You’re killing us, Lizzie. Share the name already,” Gwen pleaded. She and Ollie showed up together just a little bit ago. Ollie had presented her son with a little stuffed Chicago Cubby bear and Gwen had given him a little Winnie the Pooh. “His own little Pooh Bear.”

Back to her son’s name . . . that had been a difficult choice, but when Marc had said Tom was in the room, Lizzie knew.

“Please welcome to the world, Thomas Maddox Myers McCullough.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Ollie teased, shaking her son’s hand with his pinkie.

“It is, but it’s the right name for this guy.” Her gift. His father’s son. His father’s name.

“So . . . Tom?” Gwen asked.

“No,” Lizzie shook her head. Even though she gave him Tom’s name, she couldn’t call him Tom. “I was thinking Maddox.”

“Maddox McCullough. Sounds perfect. Tom would have loved it,” Marc said.

“I hope so. Hi, Maddox,” she said to her son, kissing his soft little forehead.

Lizzie got a little nap in during the afternoon once her torturous tutorial on how to breastfeed was over. It took a bit but Maddox latched on. After he ate, he slept.

And so did she.

When she awoke, Marc held her son in the rocking chair, already looking like a pro.

“Hi,” he said with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Hi yourself. You look good with a baby in your arms.”

“Thanks. You did awesome with this. Look at him. You made this,” he exclaimed, awe in his eyes.

The nurse came in and smiled at Marc holding the baby—it was hard not to do—then she turned to Lizzie. “Shower time?”

“Really?”

“You wanna go home?”

“Hell yes,” Lizzie answered.

“Go to the bathroom, shower, and then eat. You can take care of two of those right now.”

“Fine,” Lizzie groaned and pushed herself out of bed, following the nurse into the bathroom.

“I’m going to be right here, okay? If you feel lightheaded at all, let me know.”

“Okay,” Lizzie answered.

The moment the water cascaded over Lizzie’s head, she groaned and heard the nurse chuckle on the other side of the curtain. “Savor that shower, my dear.”

Lizzie did, washing the sweat and tears and birthing debris from her. After she was done, she stepped out and felt like a new woman.

“Good job,” the nurse said, holding out her robe. “You hungry?”

“Actually, I’m starving.”

“That a girl. Go order some food.”

Lizzie returned to the room and went to Marc, dropping a kiss on her son’s precious head. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Hospital food all right?”

“It’ll do,” Marc replied with a laugh.

She ordered a couple burgers, fries, a side of mac and cheese, and chocolate pudding for dessert. When the food came, Marc gently placed Maddox in the bassinet and sat with her as they scarfed down their meals.

Her son must have smelled the food because he cried out. Marc told her to get in bed and he’d bring her the baby. Not too long after his feeding, the ending of visiting hours was announced. Marc swiped his keys and phone from the table before coming over to her.

“He’s beautiful,” he said, kissing the baby’s head.

“Marc?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for being here today. I know I was a big baby . . .”

“Shh, you weren’t. You were wonderful. I’m so proud of you. Now get some sleep, momma. I’ll see you tomorrow morning to bring you home,” he said before placing his lips on hers for a sweet and tender kiss. “Bye, Elizabeth.”

Marc

“A good night’s sleep in a hospital is absolutely impossible,” Lizzie groaned as she collapsed on her bed, baby monitor in hand.

When Marc had arrived at her place last night, he made sure everything was ready for Maddox—car seat installation, juiced up baby monitors, diapers at the ready.

“I’m seriously exhausted,” she complained into the bed.

“Why don’t you change out of those clothes?” he suggested, taking the monitor from her and putting it on the nightstand.

“Good idea,” she said and not a minute later, she was out cold.

With an amused shake of his head, he got her shoes off and legs onto the bed, then he sat down out on the deck to write. That had been his intention. But fifteen minutes out there with no words on the screen, he came back in and sat in the chair opposite the bed and watched over her. The instinct to protect Maddox and Lizzie amazed him. So did the love he felt for the boy at first sight—insta-love.

And the love he felt for Lizzie . . . he loved her so much more than when he’d left her. He hadn’t thought it possible that he could love her any more than he had. He fell for her strength, her grace, her determination. And yesterday, he fell in love with her even more. He was in complete awe of her giving birth to another human being.

That petite woman had been through so much pain this past year, but as he stared at her lying on the bed, he saw her at peace, her lips turned up in a sleepy smile. Her resilience astounded him.

His ears perked up at the little noises coming from the monitor. Sitting completely still, he hoped the baby would stay asleep a little while longer, but the noises turned to cries. Marc hated that he had to wake Lizzie, but more than likely, Maddox was hungry. “Elizabeth . . . wake up. The baby’s fussing.”

“Okay,” she said then groaned as she rolled over.

“Stay in bed,” he ordered, walking across the room. “I’ll bring him to you.”

When he returned, Lizzie sat against the headboard, pillow on her lap, her shirt and bra undone. He paused before he handed Maddox over. Watching her son feed from the place that he’d received a hell of a lot of pleasure had left him feeling a little uncomfortable. But he just had to remember that from those same breasts she nourished her son . . . gave him life. Marc would just have to get over it.

“This is so weird,” she said a few moments later.

“What is?” he said, returning to the chair.

“Seeing this little guy at my breast, knowing that I’m feeding him, but then also knowing that another guy at my breast produced him.”

Yeah . . . now
that
was uncomfortable.

He and Lizzie had never gone down that route . . . discussing her relationship with Tom. It hurt to hear her say that. Of course, he knew she’d had sex with him. The evidence was suckling at her breast.

“I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t have said that,” she said, noticing his silence.

He sat up straight at that. “No, it’s okay. Tom was a significant part of your life. I don’t expect you to keep that inside, just to save me pain. Oh fucking well if hearing what you have to say hurts me. I only have myself to blame.”

She regarded him, her hand caressing Maddox’s head. Standing up, Marc went to sit by her and placed his hand over hers.

“I loved Tom. He was the best friend I had . . . the best person I knew. I want you to talk about him. I
want
to talk about him. I miss him too and just so you know, I was never angry that he was with you.”

She exhaled loudly and looked up at him, clearly not believing him.

“I was angry in that moment of just finding out . . . yes. I was angry at myself—at the situation—but never at him or you. I knew he would treat you well. If you were to be with anyone but me, it should’ve been him.”