The nursing staff frantically rinsed and re-rinsed the baby’s eyes, trying to stop what they thought was bleeding.
“He isn’t hurt,” André said. “He just takes after me.” His son’s wails ceased at the sound of his voice and the tiny blue-eyed gaze landed on André.
“Hi.” André smiled, pulling his mask down so his son could see his face.
The crowd of nurses stared at André. “You shouldn’t be in here,” one of them said.
André glanced up, his eyes shining with a film of bloody tears, and shrugged. “I wasn’t leaving my wife.” He reached down, picking up his son for the first time. “Hey, little man. Your mama is going to be just fine.” André glanced over his shoulder at Katrina.
The doctor finished cauterizing the wounds with the lasers and stepped away, peeling off his gloves. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
When André nodded, the doctor exchanged a glance with the ER nurse who was supposed to escort him to the waiting room. He turned back to André. “Do you understand what happened?”
André nodded. “You saved her life,” André said with his son safely propped against his shoulder. He gently rocked, trying not to let sadness overtake the joy. His son could feel it as well and let out a sorrowful squeal. His gaze shifted from his wife to the baby in his arms. “We have this little guy,” he added with a small smile, but a tear betrayed him, cutting a hot path down his cheek despite the cold operating room. He kissed the top of the baby’s head.
“What’s his name?” one of the nurses asked, pulling a chart off the wall and a pen from a hidden inside pocket.
“Samuel Matthew Robbins,” André replied. He and Katrina tossed around names for the past six months and decided on naming the child after their parents, whether it was a girl or boy. The only thing that had still been undecided was the order of the names but André alone made that decision with his son in his arms. “When will Kat wake up?” He pointed his chin at his wife.
“In about an hour,” she replied. “We’ll bring her into the maternity ward once she wakes. They have a room all set. Follow me.”
André stepped into the maternity room, still in full scrubs with Sam in his arms.
Matthew turned. “Your mother’s on her way,” he said.
“We have a son.” André cradled Sam in his arms so his father could see. “Samuel Matthew,” he added.
Matthew looked up at André, touched by the gesture. “How’s Katrina?” His gaze returned to the baby.
André took a deep breath. “She can’t have any more.”
Matthew’s head shot up, his eyes meeting André’s.
“She almost died,” André said and handed his son to his father. The levity of the situation hit him like a meteor storm.
“Is she ok?”
André nodded and sat down in the chair, burying his face in his hands. “I almost killed her.” Tears dripped from his palms while sobs ripped from his chest.
“Son, you can’t blame yourself for this,” Matthew said.
“She almost died giving birth to my son,” André said, looking up at his father. “If I hadn’t gotten her pregnant...”
The baby let out an unhappy wail.
Matthew put the baby against his shoulder and patted his back, cooing in his ear. He turned his attention back to André. “Even with all the advancements we have in medicine, women still die in childbirth, André. It happens. Be thankful she’s alive,” he said and rocked his grandson.
André sniffled and wiped his hands on the front of the scrubs, smearing the bloody tears across the fabric. His father was right; he should be thankful instead of homing in on the scariest part of the day. He had a son. They had a son.
Wandering into the bathroom, he peeled off his shirt, tossing it in a bin on the floor before splashing his face with cold water and washing the tracks away. He gave a strained smile to his reflection and stepped back into the room, shirtless. “I don’t know where my clothes ended up,” he said and put his hands out for his son.
Matthew relinquished his grandson into André’s capable hands. “I’ll go see if I can find them for you.”
“Hey, little man.” André smiled down at his son. “Are you getting hungry?”
Sam cooed and kicked his legs, flailing his tiny arms and prompting a grin from André.
“All right, let’s see if we can get someone to give us a hand.” He headed out of the room to the nurse’s station.
The young nurse looked up when André cleared his throat. Her eyes went a fraction wider like a switch flipped, putting André in a spotlight. He shifted. Her lingering gaze and her dirty thoughts made him squirm.
“Um, how can I help you?” she said and a predatory smile surfaced.
“My son is hungry,” he explained, blushing at the forwardness of her inspection, and the kinkiness of her thoughts.
She nodded and disappeared for a second. When she returned, she handed him a bottle. “Here. Do you know how to feed a baby?” She gave him the once-over again.
André shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.” He hurried away, knowing the nurse was watching him, his ass in particular, and he sighed a breath of relief when he cleared the door into the room. Taking the corner seat, he propped the bottle in the baby’s mouth.
Sam suckled immediately.
André looked down at his son and back at the door, still privy to the nurse’s fantasy and he could feel the heat in his cheeks. When he looked down at Sam again, he had finished the bottle and was now sucking air. He pulled the bottle out, setting it on the table and put Sam on his shoulder. Rubbing the baby’s back, he smiled when Sam let out a gargantuan burp.
Matthew walked in just as André finished swaddling Sam in the crib.
“I found your clothes,” he said and handed the garments to André.
“Thank you,” André said and grabbed them from his father’s grasp. He disappeared into the bathroom and came out fully dressed a couple of minutes later.
Matthew gently rocked his sleeping grandson and looked up at André. “What’s wrong?”
André started to laugh a little. “I really have no idea.” He glanced out in to the hallway and caught sight of the nurse at the desk. He looked back at his father. “I think the nurse came on to me,” he said and the disbelief was rampant in his tone.
Matthew tilted his head, glancing into the hallway and back at André. “You’re kidding?”
André shook his head. “I went to get a bottle for Sam and it was like I turned on a light switch. She was looking at me like I was her next meal.”
Matthew kept his mouth shut. He saw the iridescent glow in his son’s eyes when he came in the room, the one Katrina referred to as his booty call gaze. Instead of voicing his skepticism, or giving André a warning about stepping over the line, he chose to focus on his sleeping grandchild, but that was short-lived.
Linda walked in the room and smiled, taking notice of André, perking up in his presence like she’d never done before. “Hi there,” she said, ignoring Matthew and approaching André. Yummy. Her eyes drifted over her adoptive son as if she were seeing him for the first time.
“Jesus, Mom,” André said, pushing the chair back into the corner with his feet. He looked at his father for help.
“Linda?” Matthew said, interrupting her disturbing train of thought.
André pointed toward the baby in Matthew’s arms. “My son,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
Linda turned toward the sleeping baby in her husband’s arms.
I told you. André sent his wide-eyed glance in Matthew’s direction.
Flabbergasted by the iridescent glaze of André’s eyes and the horny look on Linda’s face, Matthew stared between the two, picking up Linda’s silent fantasies and André’s horrified reaction.
“What’s his name?” Linda asked.
“Samuel Matthew,” André answered and exhaled when her thoughts turned away from explicit sex tricks to her grandson, but he felt dirty just the same.
&n
bsp; Relief washed over André when they wheeled Katrina into the room. Her eyes stood at half-mast, groggy and unfocused until they landed on him. Then it was as if a tidal wave washed away the haze, leaving only her and André in the room.
André and his booty call smile.
He shot to his feet and approached the bed. “Hi, babe,” he said, taking her hand and wiping the offending smile off his face.
She pulled him to her lips, planting a deep, hungry kiss, one she shouldn’t have been capable of in her post-operative state. Breathless, she gasped a quick hello when he pulled away from her lip lock.
“We have a little boy. Samuel Matthew. Do you want to hold our son?”
Katrina nodded, still staring at André, her eyes glued to him and her mind rampant with desires to the point he stopped halfway to the crib, sending her a stop that look, his pointed gaze traveling from her to his father and back. He can hear you.
Blinking, Katrina shook her head, trying to rid the dirty thoughts before her father-in-law caught them, but from the look on his face, she was too late. Instead, she focused on the baby André gathered in his arms.
Their son.
Their perfect tiny bundle.
Once in her waiting arms, she gazed down at the small heart-shaped face, her breath taken away by just how beautiful he was, just like his father. Her gaze wandered back to André. “He is perfect.”
André offered a smile and kissed her cheek before exchanging a quick glance with Matthew. “Kat, did the doctor talk to you yet?”
Katrina tore her eyes away from her son. “No, why?”
He inhaled and bit his lip. Both actions lit her up, spreading a familiar heat through her and her thoughts digressed, drifting back to their wedding day.
“Stop thinking about that,” André said. His thoughts jumped there right with hers and his lips tilted in a slight grin before he banished the memory and continued, “You were in serious trouble, Kat,” he said, his eyes growing sad. “The doctor had to do more than just a C-section.”
His sincerity and sorrow bit into her, knocking all thoughts of their prior escapades out of her mind. “What does that mean?”
André tilted his head. “We can’t have any more kids.”
The words cut through her as effectively as a knife. “What?” she said, knowing full well what he just told her but unable to fully digest the information.
“We won’t be having any more kids,” he repeated. “On the upside, you won’t ever have to worry about your period.”
His attempt at levity was lost on her, and her gaze dropped to the baby in her arms. “He’s the only one?”
“Yes,” André replied. “He is a very special little boy.”
Katrina glanced back at André, tears blurring her vision. “He certainly is.” She absently wiped one as it slid down her cheek. “I tried to slow down my heart like you said.”
“You did. The doctor said it was a miracle you lived. You should have bled out before they got you to the operating room.” He touched her face. “I almost killed you,” he whispered, his eyes taking on the red sheen of tears.
“Bullshit. Even if it was the nature of the pregnancy and not a fluke, I would do it again in a second if I could.” She touched their son’s face and his little eyes fluttered opened, revealing the iridescent blue that matched his father’s at the moment. “Hi, angel boy,” she whispered and kissed her son on the forehead.
The doctor disrupted the moment as he bound into the room. “Well, well, well, you’re awake. You gave us all quite a scare, young lady.” He stepped to her side, picked up her wrist and checked her pulse the old-fashioned way. Satisfied, he continued, “I’m not sure how much you recall from last night, but in order to stop the hemorrhaging, we had to perform an emergency hysterectomy.” He looked between André and Katrina. “Do you understand what that means?”
Katrina nodded. “André said we can’t have any more kids.”
“That’s correct.” He opened the chart and scanned the list of her vitals before returning his focus to them.
“It looks like you’re doing well; however, we still want you to stay for another night to make sure there are no complications relating to the transfusion. We can talk about what restrictions you’ll be under, tomorrow.”
“How long will she be under restriction?” André asked, more curious about what she was limited to.
“Six weeks. She won’t be able to lift anything heavier than your son for six weeks or participate in any strenuous activities. Which means sexual intercourse is also on hiatus during that period.” He closed the chart. “Any questions?”
“No sex?” André asked, ignoring the look from his parents.
The doctor nodded. “Usually with a C-section, it’s eight weeks.”
It was André’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Eight weeks?”
“Six in your situation,” the doctor clarified.
“A year,” Matthew said, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. “Not until you’re both eighteen.”
André laughed aloud and looked back at the doctor. “Six weeks,” he agreed with shimmering eyes.
The doctor smiled. He checked the cauterization on her stomach and pressed lightly on her abdomen. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” Katrina answered, her eyes glued on André and his smile. Her heart fluttered under his stare and everyone else in the room disappeared. The cry of her son broke through the haze and she dragged her eyes away from her husband to her little boy.
“He’s hungry,” André said. It was the same tone of discontent the baby had earlier.
Katrina raised her gaze to the doctor.
“I’ll send the nurse in with some formula. I’d rather you not breastfeed until after you are medicine free.” He disappeared and the nurse who flirted with André earlier came in.
“Hello. I’m Nancy.” Her gaze meandered toward André. She let her eyes drift over his body and then directed her attention back to Katrina.
Katrina took note of the way the nurse looked at André and shot a questioning glance in his direction. He shrugged in response and stepped away so the nurse could hand Katrina the bottle of formula she carried. The nurse left with a lingering glance in André’s direction.
“What did you do to her?” Katrina asked.
On that accusatory note, Matthew and Linda left the room.
André shrugged. “I don’t know. Ever since Sam was born, the women around here have been acting funny,” he drawled and sat on the edge of the bed. “Including you,” he said, reaching out and touching her face.
Katrina closed her eyes at his touch and her body ignited. “Holy crap, André, you have got to stop doing that.” Her cheeks took on a rose hue and she opened her eyes.
“Doing what? I’m not doing anything.”
“Turning on the sex vibe,” she said. “It’s rolling off you.” Katrina shifted Sam, propping him a little lower and making sure he wasn’t sucking air along with formula.
“The sex vibe?” The ridiculousness of her statement sent him over the edge and he doubled over, laughing so hard that his eyes misted red.
Her reaction was less than humorous; her pouty lips thinned and her mind filtered to the word jackass.
André wound down, still chuckling and staring at her. “Sex vibe?”
“Yes. Sex vibe.” She pulled the empty bottle out of Sam’s mouth and propped him on her shoulder, gently patting his back like she had done while babysitting the bratty neighbors when she was in junior high.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, babe, but I ain’t doing anything different.”
She raised her eyebrow. “When you can turn me and every other female on in a ten-block radius with only a smile, you’re doing something different.”
“Baby, I don’t know what to do with that,” he said, still chuckling.
“Stop with the vibe.”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Yeah, right.” The skeptical eyebrow remained arch
ed.
André scoffed and reached, taking Sam from her and putting him on his shoulder, patting gently, and was rewarded with a burp. The prospect of a sex vibe emanating from him was as ludicrous as him taking flight. Still, beneath the unhappy expression lay a smoldering fire and he sent a smirk and a wink in her direction before cradling his sleepy baby in his arms. “We have a little boy, Kat.” His smile softened as he took in his son, running his finger gently over his little features. He looked back at his wife. “Our son.” The reality ebbed in.
Katrina put her hands over her heart, realizing she was the luckiest woman on the planet to have his love and devotion. She sighed and closed her eyes, giving in to the sudden exhaustion.
When André looked up, Katrina was sleeping peacefully with a slight smile on her face. “Your momma is one tired lady,” he whispered to Sam and got a coo in return, followed immediately by a yawn. Sam settled into his father’s arms and drifted off. André soon followed both his wife and son into sleep.
André woke hours later in the dark with empty arms and Nurse Nancy kneeling between his legs. Her hands found his zipper and tugged and it took André a few seconds for his confused sleep-infested brain to understand this wasn’t a dream.
With a blink and a shove, he pushed her away, zipping up his pants. “No,” he hissed.
“Shh, no one has to know.”
“I’ll know.” He tried to push the chair farther into the corner to put some distance between him and the minx in front of him, but he was trapped and she was determined.
“Get out,” he gasped, pointing at the door.
“You don’t want this?” She pouted and slid her finger between her lips, pulling it out slowly, suggesting what she had in mind.
He knew a locker room full of guys who would give their right arm to wake up to an older woman with her head between their legs, but he wasn’t one of them, especially with Katrina less than an arm’s length away. “No,” he said. “I don’t.” You don’t want me. He pushed the thought harder than he meant to and she winced at the power of it.
The nurse blinked in confusion and got to her feet, straightening out her uniform before wandering out of the room without comment.
Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection Page 107