And of course Saint had gone all Memphis on them over it, insisting they let us stay under threat of ruining their careers and personal lives. Though I had to admit, the midwife in charge of Tatum's delivery was the closest person I'd ever seen to matching Saint in pure fucking balls as she glared him down and told him to check his damn privilege. He actually did it too, though he clearly had no intention of being chased out of the room, but he was willing to let her call the shots in here aside from that.
This time, as the others were forced to retreat, I was the one who stayed by Tatum's side, tugging her hair away from her sweaty forehead and squeezing her fingers tightly while she panted and groaned on the bed.
The midwife did her examination in the few seconds between contractions and I swear my heart was racing even faster than the baby's which we could hear over the monitor that they'd strapped around Tatum's swollen belly.
We'd been here for sixteen hours and I had never in my life been as fucking worried as I was right now. I didn't know what to do or the right things to say and every time any of us tried to make a joke to lighten the mood, Tatum went all Satan eyes on us and we shut the fuck up sharpish.
"I'm sorry to say this sweetheart, but you're still not ready to push," the midwife announced and Tatum groaned in pain, crushing my fingers as another contraction overwhelmed her.
"Do you want some water?" Nash offered.
"Or a cold compress?" Blake added.
"Or a scone?" Saint suggested.
"No I don't want a fucking scone!" she yelled and I was pretty certain she broke my finger as her grip impossibly tightened.
"Maybe you should re-think the pain relief?" the midwife suggested kindly. "We could be in for a long wait here and an epidural-"
"Yes," Tatum gasped, nodding her head. "That. Do that-"
"Are you sure?" I asked her, leaning down to speak into her ear. "Because when we did all those classes you were pretty fucking adamant you wanted to do it naturally without drugs and-"
Tatum snatched hold of the front of my shirt and dragged me down so that we were nose to nose and she was glaring into my eyes with the rage of the Devil himself.
"Don't you talk to me about a natural fucking birth when you're just standing around watching this happen!" she snarled. "The Tatum who said those dumbass things was a fucking idiot who had no idea what hell this would be. She was a naive bitch and she’s dead now, just like you’ll be if you try to talk me out of taking pain relief again. When you have to push a watermelon out of your fucking vagina you can come back to me with your no drugs bullshit, but until then just shut the fuck up and help the woman give me the drugs."
I swallowed thickly and nodded, kinda afraid of the demon who lived inside my wife and wondering if this really was Saint's baby after all, because she definitely had something pure evil inside of her that hadn't been there before.
“Yeah, okay, whatever you need,” I agreed quickly and she released her hold on me as she dropped back against the pillows.
"Alright sweetheart, I'll get the anaesthetist and sort you out pronto," the midwife said loudly, ignoring us like we weren't involved in this. And as I was without a vagina, I could concede that this probably wasn't my place to start arguing, so I did as requested and shut the fuck up.
The midwife left the room and Tatum lunged forward so suddenly that I had to catch her to stop her from falling out of the bed. She glared at me like I should have guessed she was going to do that, and I apologised as I shared a glance with Blake over her head while mouthing 'holy shit' to him.
"Maybe you should stay in bed?" Blake suggested, reaching for her then drawing back like he wasn’t sure how to help.
"I can't lie down. It’s worse if I lie down," she panted, reaching out for Nash and digging her fingernails into his bicep as she gritted her teeth against the pain of another contraction and he just let her draw blood from his flesh without a word. Probably for the best.
Saint had gone very still, his eyes on her like he was assessing everything, calculating odds and trying to work this out like a math problem. But the way he was locking up told me just how much he was freaking out inside and I knew he was on the edge of breaking over how useless this whole thing was making him feel.
"No," Tatum snapped, pointing at him. "You don't get to lose your shit today. It’s not about you, so lock that shit down. Buck the fuck up or get out."
"I'm not going anywhere," Saint growled in response. "I'm just trying to think of all the things that might help you."
"Oh, are you going to reach up into my vagina and take this baby out of me nice and gently?" she asked and yeah, I was officially terrified of her. And impressed. And kinda hot for her. Not that I'd dare suggest anything to do with my dick right now, but Tatum going all badass just did things for me and seeing her couple that with this momma bear psycho shit... Yeah. I was here for it. Terrified, but here for it.
"Why don't you try the bouncy ball thing again?" Nash offered and the scowl she threw him could have cut glass.
"You were keen on doing that hands and knees thing," Blake added, moving to the bed and jumping up onto it on all fours. "You know, like that woman from the classes said about the gravity helping and shit. Kinda like it does for animals in the-"
"Do I look like a wild animal to you, Blake?" Tatum hissed, her fingers crushing mine again as another contraction came for her.
The four of us looked at her, wearing nothing but a stretched out men's t-shirt with bare feet, her blonde hair sticking up in every direction and her blue eyes scarily wild and we all shook our heads.
"Fuck no," Nash said. "You look stunning."
"Gorgeous," Blake added.
"Beautiful," Saint said.
"Ferocious," I added, and I was pleased to see she took that as the compliment it was meant to be.
She broke a laugh for a brief moment. "Sorry, I'm being a total asshole," she gasped. " I just- holy mother of fuck, whichever one of you put this fucking thing inside of me is going to be getting a dick kick every day for a fucking month!"
Okay, yeah, she was insane, I was scared for all of our lives, but I was also staying right here beside her until this was over anyway.
I less than subtly shielded my balls with my free hand and luckily, we were saved by the midwife reappearing alongside the anaesthetist.
Saint nudged me aside as he and Blake helped her onto the bed and Nash clapped his hand down on my shoulder, exhaling sharply and glancing at me with a what the fuck look which I definitely gave back to him. They did not mention this in the antenatal classes. Maybe I should tell them to add it – Class Nine: how to cope when your wife is possessed by the devil during labour and you’re reduced to a useless as fuck punching bag who can’t do anything beyond just staying strong and letting her abuse you as much as she likes in hopes that it helps a bit.
I just hoped that this epidural was like a freaking magic potion, because I wasn't sure I could watch her in pain like this for much longer. Shit, how did anyone go on to have more children after surviving this? I'd lived through a death game, the Hades Virus, brought down an elitist organisation, escaped from my Irish mob family and survived a gunshot wound against the odds and I didn't think I'd come close to enduring the way Tatum was feeling now. She was a fucking goddess, and I was going to make certain I told her that every day for the rest of forever to make sure she never forgot.
Blake moved to stand in front of Tatum, holding her hands and murmuring to her about how amazingly she was doing while the anaesthetist sorted out the epidural for her.
The midwife wafted the rest of us back into the corner for the hundredth time and I reluctantly accepted that, moving to stand with Nash and Saint as we watched.
"Why doesn't anyone tell you this is fucking terrifying?" Nash muttered, swiping a hand down his face as he looked between us for an actual answer.
"That crazy bitch at the prenatal classes made this sound like a magical experience," I growled, wondering if I should sneak ove
r to her house at night and give her a really good fright to teach her a damn lesson. "This is about as magical as the Texas Chainsaw Massacre."
Saint punched me in the arm and I didn't retaliate because I probably shouldn’t have said that so loudly where Tatum might hear. Luckily, she seemed to be fully focused on Blake and her breathing, so I seemed to have gotten away with it.
"What did we decide about the paternity test in the end?" Nash muttered and I shrugged.
"I don't give a shit about that. I'll love it the same whether it’s got my blood or not."
"You can't call a baby 'it’,” Nash hissed but we’d been having this conversation since it was conceived so he needed to let it go.
"Well until I know if it's a boy or a girl, I'm gonna keep doing it. And seeing as you assholes all voted with Tatum against finding out the sex-"
Tatum let out a pained growl and we all paused to look at her, each of us leaning forward like we wanted to run over there and hold her, but Blake had it and the doctors were still doing their shit, so we made ourselves stay back.
"We can do a paternity test before we decide to have another child," Saint said. "That way we can make sure each of us has a child with our genetics and-"
"You seriously think you're going to convince her to have more babies after this?" Nash hissed and Tatum turned to look at all of us, her eyes narrowing like she knew what we were saying. Shit, she was scary right now.
Saint swallowed thickly and shrugged. "Maybe not," he conceded.
"I'm more concerned about her surviving this one," I growled, wondering why the hell we'd even decided to have a baby. I mean yeah, I was pretty fucking excited about having a little dude or princess to run around with and get into trouble, but if I'd known what would happen to our girl to get it here, I wasn't so sure I’d have gone along with it. "Shit, this baby had better be really fucking cool or I don't think I'll ever forgive the little bastard."
"We are all married to her,” Saint replied. “So it won't be a bast-"
"There we go, it'll kick in shortly," the anaesthetist announced and we stampeded out of our corner to get to Tatum's side first.
She dropped back down onto the bed, some of the pain already seeming to slip from her expression as she looked between the four of us with the hint of a smile on her face.
"I'm never having sex again," she whispered and a laugh spilled from my lips as I leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"You've got this, baby," I growled, knowing in my heart that it was the truest thing I'd ever said to her. "You're a fucking queen. You can do this. And we'll be right here beside you the whole time."
***
The room was strangely silent following the panic of the delivery. This odd kind of calm dropping over all of us beneath the weight of this utterly life changing event.
Something had shifted in me the moment the baby had been born, this sense of purpose that I hadn't had before. I didn't know how to properly put it into words, but I just felt overwhelmed with it all.
Tatum lay in her bed, nursing the healthy baby boy and watching him with this serene look on her face that I just couldn't help but sketch. Nash and Blake had already taken about a million photos of the two of them in the twenty minutes since he'd come into the world screaming like a banshee and ready to take on everything and anything that came his way. But I just needed to capture this feeling. And as the sketches came together, I couldn't help but be proud of my work.
My favourite was the piece I was just finishing, Tatum sitting in bed between the four of us as we looked down at her, the baby cradled in her arms and that freaking smile on her face which I just wanted to devour. It was almost certainly worth all of the agony it had taken to bring him into the world. She certainly seemed to think so anyway and as she was the one who had endured it, I was willing to take her word on it.
"Do you want to hold him, Kyan?" Tatum breathed and I looked up as I finished my sketch, wetting my lips and placing my sketchbook aside.
I was the only one who hadn't yet, but for some reason, I was hesitating. It wasn't that I didn't want to, more that I wasn't sure I was cut out for taking hold of something so precious and fragile without tainting it. I'd already had to accept that I'd corrupted Tatum, but a baby was just so pure and innocent, and I was everything but those things.
I hadn't even been the least bit pissed when it had been clear from his skin tone that I wasn't the bio dad. Because deep down in my gut I couldn't help but feel that my blood was a form of poison and giving it to a child would be akin to cursing them.
In hindsight, I should have known full well this kid would have Saint's genetics. The bastard had planned a romantic weekend away for him and Tatum precisely when he'd figured out that she'd be ovulating, then spent the entirety of it buried inside of her to make sure he’d be the one who impregnated her first. I hadn't even thought about that freaking trip until his smugness forced him to admit to it ten minutes after Caesar was born.
Blake had punched him, and Nash had cursed him but I'd just laughed.
I didn’t even care. It was so fucking Saint of him and too fucking funny. Of course he'd known Tatum's menstrual cycle better than she had. The rest of us had just had a perfectly normal, ‘shall we stop using contraception and try for a baby’ conversation and had been content to let nature take its course from there. He’d been charting periods and working out dates until he knew the exact time she’d release a freaking egg. Asshole.
In reality, I knew that none of us gave a shit who shared DNA with the little creature who had just become the centre of our universe. It didn't make a blind bit of difference. We would love him just the same. That was how it was in our family.
"He looks happy with you," I told Tatum slowly, closing my sketchbook and laying it down on the little table beside me.
"He wants a cuddle with his daddy," she insisted, seeing right through me as always and I pushed my tongue into my cheek as I looked at the tiny little thing in her arms, both aching to pick him up and afraid of fucking it up if I did.
"I'm pretty sure I'm his daddy," Blake teased, leaning down over Tatum's shoulder and kissing the tiny human on the top of his soft, dark hair.
"How do you figure that out?" Nash asked.
"Because I'm clearly the fun one. So I get to be Daddy, you're Dad, Nash. Kyan is Pa and Saint is... Father."
I snorted a laugh as Saint scowled, folding his arms. "Why do I have to be the formal one?" he asked with that rich boy lilt to his tone which clearly answered his damn question for him.
"Watch out, Father's in a mood again," I hissed, cupping my hand around my mouth as if I was trying to make sure Saint didn't hear, even though he clearly could.
"Fuck off," he muttered, his brow pinching in a way that actually made me feel a little bad. I knew that the last thing he wanted to be was a figure of fear for our son and that he worried about having too much of his father in him to stop that from happening.
"Alright," I said, standing up and clapping my hand down on his shoulder, leaving charcoal marks on his skin. "How about you can be Papa? That's cute. Big old papa bear."
I nudged his arm and a smile touched his lips.
"I don't hate that," he admitted, and Tatum beamed at me. Maybe I had this dad stuff down already - I was breaking up fights and making Saint happy, a kid couldn't be harder to manage than him...right?
I shifted closer to the bed and Tatum adjusted her hold on the little fella, moving him towards me in his snuggly blue blanket - Saint had packed two entire bags for the baby, one for if it was a boy, the other for if it was a girl. Not that I'd be letting him toss that pink blanket. Caesar was comfortable enough with his masculinity to pull off pink.
I reached out to brush my fingers over the baby's head, but Saint caught my elbow before I could do it.
"Wash your hands," he ground out and I might have taken offence if my fingers weren't stained black from the sketches I'd been doing, so I just rolled my eyes and crossed the room to do as he i
nstructed.
I turned back towards the bed and found Blake in my way, grabbing the hem of my shirt and tugging. "You need to hold him skin to skin," he said. "For the bonding and shit."
Apparently he'd swallowed the fucking guidebook we'd been given during those antenatal classes and was going to micromanage everything we did with Caesar now to make sure we all got the full baby experience so he got the best possible start in life. I couldn't really voice any complaints about that, so I just tugged my shirt over my head and tossed it down on the chair I'd been sitting in before approaching Tatum in the bed again.
"Why is it that even after all of the things we've survived, I feel totally out of my depths with this tiny little person?" I muttered as I came to stand over her, stroking my fingers through her hair and placing a kiss on the top of her head.
"I think we're all pretty overwhelmed," she said, smiling tiredly. She'd been a freaking warrior throughout the twenty-seven hours Caesar had taken to come into this world and I would never forget it. This woman right here was so much more than a queen. She was a damn goddess. In fact, I was pretty sure all women were. They could create life and survive the process of bringing a perfect little creation into this world. Meanwhile, here I was with a cock that basically just planted the seed and then hung there waiting for another round of seed planting. Why was it that men thought they ruled the world? It was pretty clear to me that women deserved that accolade. "But I know you're going to be an amazing father, Kyan. All of you are. And how lucky is Caesar to have so many of us all for himself?"
I could feel the others watching me as Tatum shifted the blanket away from him and lifted the little bundle of trouble towards me. I reached out for him, cradling his little head in one of my hands and drawing him into my tattooed arms, letting him rest against my chest as I just stared at him.
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