It’s been almost two hours since we’ve heard any progress from the nurse. Shauna’s family, Brent, and I are sitting and waiting, hoping that everything is going well. Last we knew, the baby was coming quickly, but that was ages ago. It’s getting late, but sleeping is impossible. There’s no way my mind can rest with so much unknown.
“It’s been a while,” Marcus says, sitting in the chair next to Brent. “You’d think they would have let us know something by now.”
“Babies come when they want,” Shauna’s mother absently states from behind a magazine. “You all certainly came out in your own time. Marcus was two weeks late, and Tony and Daniel were both early. Shauna seemed to be the only one who got the message to come out on time. She was born on her actual due date.”
“Figures she was,” Tony says. “She’s always showing us up and doing the right thing.”
“Like marrying Cody,” Daniel adds with a touch of sarcasm.
“It was the right thing for her,” Shauna’s mother says in response. “Everything will be just fine.”
The door opens, exposing a red-eyed Cody. He enters the room, and every one of us sits up straighter. We’re on the edge of our seats, waiting for him to speak.
“She’s here,” Cody announces. “Five pounds, ten ounces. Screaming, breathing okay, and eating, too.”
Brent tightens his grip around my shoulder, and a sense of relief washes over both of us.
A healthy baby girl.
“Shauna is resting now,” Cody continues, “but she would like to see everyone soon. The doctor says it looks like everyone is going to be just fine. They’re going to watch the baby closely for the next twenty-four hours, but if she does well, we can take her home.”
“So, no complications?” Tony asks.
“None. It’s better than we could have expected.”
“So,” Marcus inquires, “are you going to tell us her name?”
“Scarlet.” Cody smiles proudly. “Scarlet Harriet Miller. She’s a spitfire, that’s for sure.”
“Just like her dad,” Daniel states.
“Just like her mom,” Cody retorts. He searches the room until his eyes land on me. “Just like all the women in her life.” He runs a hand through his tussled dark brown hair. “Ruby, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” Standing up, I wipe my clammy hands on my thighs and then meet him at the threshold.
He steps into the hallway. “Come with me.”
Cody proceeds down the hall without saying a word while I follow close behind. We pass a few closed doors, round the corner, and venture beyond the nurses’ desk. Cody opens the third door on the left, revealing Shauna sitting up in bed while holding their baby.
“Shauna wanted you to be the first to meet Scarlet,” Cody peacefully says beside me. Leading me into the room, he ushers me with his hand on my back to the side of the bed. “Come and meet your goddaughter, Scarlet.”
In Shauna’s tattooed arms lies a bundle of cotton. Inside of that beams a face with the sweetest, tiniest, and most angelic features I’ve ever seen.
“Ruby,” Shauna serenely says, her face flush with joy, as she pats the space next to her hip, “have a seat.”
Facing her, I rest my backside on the mattress, careful not to get too close. “How are you?” I ask, trying to get comfortable without jostling her.
“Tired,” she breathes. “But happy, good, still a little shocked, and just so blessed.”
“Yes, you are.” I gape at the little girl in her arms. “You did good. She’s absolutely beautiful.”
“She sure is.” Shauna taps my hand. “Do you want to hold her?”
My eyes well up with tears. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
Slowly and with the utmost care, Shauna places her daughter in the waiting cradle of my arms. Shauna’s arms slide away, and then it’s just Scarlet and me, no one else. She weighs practically nothing. She has the features of a tiny angel—cherubic skin, soft lids, petite nose, and shell-pink lips. Her body is swaddled in cotton, and her head is topped with a beanie. Whispers of her dark brown hair peek out the sides near her ears. Everything about her is small, delicate, and beautiful. She’s too fragile, vulnerable, and dependent.
I love her completely.
“She’s so tiny,” I muse.
“Don’t let her size fool you,” Cody says from behind me. “She’s a fighter.”
“Of course she is,” I say, my fingertip brushing her soft cheek. “I knew she would be. She’s already made a point about what she wants. She wanted to come, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer.”
“No, she wasn’t,” Shauna agrees, palming Scarlet’s tiny head.
“Girls are funny like that,” I add, sharing a peaceful moment with Shauna. “We know what we want.”
I hand Scarlet back into Shauna’s restless and waiting arms. The longing in her face is barely contained.
“She really is gorgeous,” I say.
“Thank you,” Shauna replies, holding Scarlet easily and naturally. “She’s a screamer, too.”
“She must get that from her father.”
“That’s what I said.” Shauna grins widely at Cody. “She came out, screaming her head off. Scared the shit out of us.”
“I bet.”
Shauna sits up as best she can in the bed, getting comfortable with Scarlet in her arms. “So, is my family freaking out?”
“A little bit, but I’m sure they’ll be fine once they see you…and her.”
She tucks a fiery strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ll let them sweat a little while longer. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. You just had a baby. You only need to worry about taking care of you and this little girl.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Actually,” Cody chimes in, “I need to say I’m sorry.”
I turn on the bed to face him. “I appreciate that, Cody, but you should tell Brent that you’re sorry. You know that, right?”
Cody methodically rubs the dark stubble on the side of his face, not responding.
“I told him,” I continue since he’s not verbal, “about what happened in Florida, so now he knows. I had planned on telling him. I wasn’t keeping it from him. It just hadn’t come up yet. You blame him for a lot of things. I understand your point of view, but you need to let it go. A lot happened between Brent and me, and he’s not the only one at fault, but that’s our business.”
“I just don’t know if I can trust him.”
“I do.” There’s an underlying pleading tone in my voice. “That should be all that matters, right?”
His mouth forms a hard line, and his face hardens as the seconds tick onward.
Still, he says nothing.
“Okay,” I utter, understanding his lack of reply.
He doesn’t need to say a word. It’s obvious how he feels, and I know that we’re at an impasse on this.
Standing up, I turn to face Shauna and Scarlet. “She’s really beautiful, Shauna.” I lean down and kiss each of them on the cheek. “Congratulations.” My fingers drift along the bundled baby in her mother’s arms.
“I’ll call you soon,” Shauna says, apologetic.
“Okay,” I respond to our wordless conversation. The tension in the room is obvious and not going to be resolved, but we still love each other. “Take care of yourself and that little girl.”
Without looking back, I walk out the door and into the hallway, heading back toward the waiting room. Cody has openly spurned my decision. He’s rejected Brent and thereby rejected me. There’s no other way to see it. Rounding the corner, the man I chose and will always choose comes into view. Brent is outside the waiting room, leaning against the cream wall, talking on his phone. He hangs up as I come to stand next to him.
“I just booked us a hotel,” he says, taking my hand. “We won’t have to drive back tonight, and you can come back in the mor
ning to visit.”
“We can go now.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “There’s no reason to stay.”
“Is something wrong?” He tilts his head in question. “Is everything okay?”
“I…”
“The baby?” He grips my biceps, searching my face. “What’s going on?”
The words cannot seem to form in my mouth. My mind is trying, but it’s unable to communicate the traffic jam of thoughts. The mixture of relief from Scarlet’s birth, my memories of my own pregnancy, Cody’s refusal to accept Brent and our relationship, and the fact that I made a choice to go against Cody, the one person who helped me in one of my darkest times, when I walked out of that hospital room overwhelms every part of me. It’s too much, and for some reason, Brent is drawing out all my clustering emotions with his simple concern. He knows me too well, and everything about my state of mind is on a platter for him to take, for him to share with me.
Slipping my arms under Brent’s, I melt into him. I need to be held. I need him to hold me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks cautiously.
“Can you just hold me?” I jaggedly ask, silent tears hitting his shirt.
“I’ve got you,” he says, his mouth near my ear. His strong arms enclose my body, cocooning me in a protective embrace. “I’ve got you, Ruby. I’m not letting you go.”
He lifts his head from mine. “I’ve got her,” he states louder.
I whip my head toward the other party. Cody halts a few feet away.
“I’ve got her,” Brent says again, his fingertips claiming me further with their pressure.
Cody stuffs his hands into his pockets, twisting his mouth to the side. He’s pondering, his posture hard and stiff. He closes his lids and inhales. “Okay,” he says, rubbing the top of his dark hair. Taking a step forward with an outstretched hand, he continues, “Sorry about earlier.”
The peace offering is huge and unexpected. It’s completely out of character for Cody.
Brent pauses for a moment, allowing Cody’s hand to hang in the stillness, and then he shakes it once. “No hard feelings.”
“I’m gonna go and talk with Shauna’s family,” Cody says, pointing his thumb into the waiting room. “I think they want to meet the new addition.”
“Sounds good,” I say, wiping away the tears. “Congratulations.”
“Yeah, congratulations,” Brent adds.
“Thanks,” Cody says. “It was pretty scary there for a while. I’m just glad everything worked out.”
“Us, too,” I say.
Cody cocks his head and nods somewhat approvingly. Then, he enters the waiting room, leaving me in Brent’s arms.
I’m befuddled by Cody’s sudden change. It’s not a total acceptance, but it’s not denial either. Maybe it’s the birth of Scarlet, seeing something so precious and delicate come to life between he and Shauna. And somewhere deep inside of him, he can finally understand what our pain truly entailed, not only mine but Brent’s as well. I’ve been told becoming a parent changes people in an instant, where a veil of ignorance is a lifted and life comes into a different perspective. Possibly he’s too tired to fight, or he’s come to realize it’s not his fight anymore.
My hope is that Cody finally sees that Brent loves me and that I love him.
More so, I hope Cody realizes that Brent has me in every way, and that’s never going to change.
TWENTY
An hour later, Brent and I say our good-byes to Shauna’s family, and we head over to the hotel. It’s late, and we’re both tired. The idea of driving back to Chicago isn’t appealing to either one of us. Also, Cody’s overture of amends is one that can’t be ignored. We plan to stop by the hospital in the morning to check in on Shauna and Scarlet and say farewell before driving back to the city.
In the beige hotel hallway, Brent slips the key card into the door, unlocking it. I enter first and flip on the light switch on the wall, illuminating the basic room with two queen beds, a television, and a desk near the large window. The drapes are drawn wide open, giving us a view of the night sky. At the closet, just past the bathroom, I toe off my shoes and hang my jacket.
“I got us each toothbrushes when I checked in,” Brent says, joining me from the bathroom. “If you need anything else, just call the front desk. I’m sure they’ll be able to provide it for you.”
“Thanks.” I step back, allowing Brent to hang his coat. “You spend a lot of time in hotels, don’t you?”
“Enough.” He closes the closet door. “Occupational hazard.”
“Or a perk.”
“Some might say that. I do know my way to the ice machine.”
Brent’s hand runs down the length of my arm before he passes me and enters the main part of the room. He draws the curtains and then takes a seat on one of the beds. As he empties his pockets, I sit on the bed across from him and set my purse in the small cubby under the center nightstand.
“You hungry?” he asks, settling back on the mattress. “We can order something.”
“No, I’m good.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“It sure has.”
Brent slaps his thighs and pushes off the bed. Stopping in front of the dresser, he picks up the television remote and tosses it onto the mattress next to me. Bending down, he opens the minibar and grabs a bottle of water before setting in on the bureau.
Brent unbuttons his shirt, glides it off his arms, and then proceeds to hang it in the closet. He slips out of his pants, folds them neatly, and places them on the luggage rack. I still haven’t moved as I watch him take over the room with extreme ease, effortlessly claiming the strange environment as his own. He’s making himself right at home, like he’s done this a million times. The same is not true for me. The newness of being in a hotel still surrounds me.
Down to his boxers and a T-shirt, Brent turns off the light, pulls back the comforter of the bed I’m sitting on, and crawls under the covers. He takes the remote in his hand and turns on the TV, settling in for the evening.
“C’mon,” he encourages. “Nothing to do now other than sleep.”
Following his lead, I undress until I’m wearing only a tank top and panties and put my clothes aside on the other bed. I slip under the covers, and without any hesitation, I scoot into the crook of Brent’s arm, placing my palm on his chest. I relax to the beat of his heart.
Under the hazy television light, Brent traces the long scar from my shoulder down to where it ends just at my bicep. His movement is deliberate and intentional. The pads of his fingers, for the first time, find the small jagged imperfections surrounding the larger one. Tapping them like letters on a keyboard, finding the remnants of the event with his touch. I hold still, allowing him to explore in the way he needs to, now knowing the series of events that took place in Florida that caused the permanent markings.
I’m drained from the day and ready for it to be over. My lids shut as Brent watches a show I have no interest in.
“Do they hurt?” he faintly questions, referring to the scars.
“Not anymore,” I reply, stiffening a little. “They used to, but they’ve healed. I don’t even notice them until I look in the mirror.”
The television clicks off, and the darkness thickens. Brent reaches over me, sets the remote on the nightstand between the two beds, and then scoots farther under the covers, leading me down with him.
“How are you doing?” he asks, tentative.
“Tired.” I snake my arm around his ribs. “How about you?”
“A lot of things.”
“Like what?”
“Pissed for starters.”
I lean back, resting my head on the pillow. “What are you pissed about?”
“You.” He lets out a heavy breath. “You and this.” His palm grips my arm. “Everything that happened to you.”
“Brent—”
“I’m. So. Sorry,” he says in a hard whisper. “Cody’s right. I left you on your own. I don’t know what I was thinking
. Why couldn’t I see that you needed me?”
“We talked about this.”
“No, we didn’t. We didn’t talk about the damage.” He cups my cheek. “I can’t even begin to tell you how…” He grunts. “How can you not be angry? How can you…even give me this second chance?”
“It’s called forgiveness,” I mumble. “And I’ve done a lot of it.”
“But how can you forgive me?”
“I don’t…I never blamed you for any of it.”
“You should.” He strokes his hand down the side of my face. “I really don’t deserve you.” His voice is dangerously steady. “You know that, right?”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“I’m sorry.” He kisses me gently. “So sorry.” His lips skate across my jawline, landing in the tender space near my ear. “Please know how sorry I am.”
“I do know.” I palm the side of his face. “I’m sorry, too…for everything.”
“Don’t.” His lips move against my skin. “Don’t be sorry.” He exhales. “Because this pain,” he continues in a whisper as his hand lands directly on my bicep, “is mine.” Tracing down farther, he stops directly on my abdomen, curling his palm around the space. “All of it…all of it is mine.” His fingers drift to my hip, flirting with my own fingers hanging heavy at my side. “Everything about you is mine.” Brent lifts my hand, placing it directly on his heart. “And this is undeniably yours in every way.” His mouth drifts to the space behind my ear. “I love you so much, and I would do anything to take away every ounce of hurt I’ve caused, even those I didn’t. I want to take those, too. I want to erase them—their scars, their memories, their tears, and their nightmares—from existence.” He nips my earlobe. “Give them to me. Let me take them.”
Flipping my palm, I nudge his to the space where my heart beats solidly for him.
“They’re yours,” I say in surrender, opening my blanket of wounds. “Take them all.”
“I’ll take every last one.”
Brent grips the fabric at my chest beneath his palm, and he places featherlight kisses down the length of my neck, along my collarbone to my shoulder. His mouth caresses the scars along my arm, carefully attempting to heal and stitch every imperfection. These are more than kisses. Every moist embrace of his lips is filled with care and love, drawing out the hidden torment the marks conceal. There are many, and I have worn them on my own for years, but now, they are his. With every touch of his lips, tears pool in my eyes, creating a silent stream across the bridge of my nose before falling onto the pillowcase.
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