Rare and Precious Things (31 page)

I don’t
know how I walked into that operating theatre because I was fucking scared to, but at the same time, I needed to see Brynne and reassure myself she was okay. The room was cold and there was a strong antiseptic smell that hung in the air. I went to where everyone was gathered, limping slowly without my crutches. One thing I’d decided—I was walking into this on my own two legs, fucking busted or not.

“There he is,” Fred said, giving me
a thumbs up.

“Ethan?” Brynne called out.

I closed my eyes in relief at the sound of her voice, and made my way to her. All I could see was her face and the main portion of her stomach. Everything else was swathed in blue medical drape. “I’m here, baby.” I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “How are you?”

“I’
m fine now that you’re back here.”
I love you
, she mouthed.

Funny, how I felt exactly the same. All of the stress and panic sort of melted away as soon as we saw each other and could be together. Brynne was so strong, and brave. She looked
completely ready for what was about to happen. And…so beautiful. If she could do this, then the least I could do was stay conscious. How did I ever find this amazing and remarkable woman? How did she ever fall in love with me?
Lucky bastard.

“I love you more,” I said.

“Ready to become Mum and Dad?” Fred asked cheerfully.

Yes.

“RIGHT, you can look now, if you like, E.” Fred said in a methodical tone, which told me he was focusing on the job at hand, as he should.

I’d kep
t my eyes on Brynne’s while he did the incision, stroking her hand with my thumb, knowing there was no way in hell I could watch a blade slicing into her perfect skin. She was so calm, and matter of fact about everything. No apparent fear of any kind; just a solid determination to get on with it and see this to its conclusion.
She is so amazing
. Women on the verge of giving birth had some serious mojo in the way of resolve and bravery, and it was utterly spectacular to see Brynne this way.

The sound
of monitors beeped in the background, against the clicking of medical instruments and the jostling of her body on the table as they worked their way closer to the baby.

“I can’t feel any pain,
Ethan. Just pulling and pushing. Feels weird, but I’m good.” She nodded and smiled at me. “I just want to meet our baby now.”

“Me too, my beauty.
Me too.”

“Out we go,” Fred said
with firm authority.

I peeked over the drape and saw a
cap of dark hair emerging from Brynne’s belly, then a scrunched-up face looking furiously outraged at the rough treatment of being dragged into the world of bright lights and loud noises, then miniature shoulders and arms slipped through the opening, and then…the rest of a tiny little body. The whole process took probably about ten seconds in total.

And just that quickly…
she was finally here with us.

LAUREL
Thomasine Blackstone was born on the 7th of February at precisely three forty-four p.m. She weighed six pounds, four ounces, and was nineteen and three-quarter inches long. She came into the world with a healthy cry, and some pretty, dark curls on her perfectly shaped head. The last two came from her father, of course.

My butterfly
angel was a beautiful little girl who would look to me to care for her, and help her to grow, and to love her unconditionally, along with her father, who would do all of those things for her, too. He would do them well. Because Ethan Blackstone was a wonderful man, with a beautiful heart, filled with so much love for me, and for our daughter.

I cried tears of happiness and joy when they put her into my arms for the first time. I couldn’t take my eyes o
ff her, even though I was so exhausted I probably could’ve slept for a day straight. I wanted to look at her little hands, and fingers, and toes, and feet instead. And I did—for hours. Her nose, and eyes, and rosebud lips, and cherub cheeks were pretty captivating as well.

When she was born
, Ethan saw her before I could, because of the drape shielding everything from my view. He looked back at me and told me we had a daughter.

And for the first time since I’d known him, I saw tears in
my Ethan’s eyes.

14th
February

Somerset

“JUST
a minute, little one, Daddy’s got to get you dressed, and then I’ll take you to Mummy. You must be a good girl, and stop wriggling—and let me put your arm—oh, for fuck’s sake—I can’t get this silly thing on you. It’s completely stupid,” he sang to her in a soothing voice. “So we’ll just wrap you up in a blanket instead. Yes we will…”

The most beautiful sounds of Ethan talking to Laurel in the night made me hold my breath so I could hear every whispered word, every baby sound, every rustle of the diaper changing, and the frustrating struggle of
him trying to worm her into a fresh sleeper. Ethan did all of it because he wanted to, because he embraced fatherhood in the way he embraced everything in his life. With complete attention, loyalty, and dedication to those he loved.

I’d discovered something else about my daughter in the short time since she’d been born. She was a daddy’s girl, just like me. Ethan’s voice comforted her when she was fussy, and
lulled her off to sleep when she was tired. He was the Laurel-whisperer all right, and it made me hope my dad could see her, or know about her, somehow…wherever he was in the vast universe.

“Ahh, you’re awake,”
he said as he limped across the room toward me, cast still on his leg, holding our baby against his chest. My beautiful man, in all his sleep-mussed glory—all six foot three inches of him, his fine physique, and hard, carved muscles—holding a tiny bundle like it was the most precious treasure on earth. I wanted a picture of them together.

Thankfully I
kept my camera on the bedside table, so I picked it up and snapped a photograph.

“That’s going to be perfect.” I smiled at him as he put her into my arms. “Thank you for changing her
for me.”

“Of course,” he said, settling himself back into bed beside us.
Ethan had helped me so much in the first days when I came home from the hospital. The incision from my C-section still hurt and the pain meds made me sleepy. So he’d gotten into a routine of getting up and bringing her to me for feeding in the night. He waited until she was finished, and then put her back in the bassinet again. Sometimes he’d burp her for me, too. Once he’d gotten the hang of things, he was really good at handling her, with one exception. His big hands and fingers didn’t work too well with putting her into tiny outfits with mini snaps and closures.

“So you had trouble with the sleeper again?” I said, as I opened the flap on the nursing bra I no
w wore around the clock. Wearing it was better than waking up in a puddle of milk.

“Yeah.
It’s hard to get her arms into the sleeves.”

“I know. I heard you.” As soon as Laurel smelled the milk
she started rooting for my nipple. Her little bow lips latched on and she started to suckle, her tiny hand fisting above my breast. “I heard that sweet little f-bomb you sang to her, too.”

“Shit,” he muttered. I looked over at him
and laughed. “I’m going to have to work on that with her. Sorry. My mouth is filth.”

“I love your mouth, but ye
ah, it is filthy, and this little angel will copy everything you say and do. She’s her daddy’s girl.”

He looked happy at my prediction, his blue eyes lighting up in a smile. “You think so?” he asked softly.

“I know so, baby.”

“I love you both so much,” he said slowly, his simple words full of deep emotion, and heartfelt truth. He brought his lips to mine and kissed me lovin
gly, and then he leaned back into the pillows and watched over us both.

DAWN was breaking as I woke
. I was alone in our bedroom. When I saw the lavender roses, I remembered the day and smiled. Valentine’s Day. Our first one, in fact. I looked at what had been left out for me by my romantic husband.

Beneath the vase of flowers, an envelope was propped beside a black velvet jewelry box. I opened the box first. It was another vintage piece from his family’s collection no doubt, and it was beautiful—a filigree butterfly pendant with a large ruby for its body.
So perfect for me. I slipped the chain over my head and admired it. I would love wearing this necklace as a reminder of my butterfly angel.

I reached for his
letter and read it.

My Beauty,

Every day since the first day, you have made my life worth living. You make me wake up every single day knowing that I am a blessed man. With you, I am real. You made me real when you walked into that gallery and looked up to see me. You are the only one. The only person ever able to really see me. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life loving you. That’s all I want, all I need.

Forever yours,

E

Brushing the joyful tears from my face, I got out of bed, and went to find my loving husband, so I could thank him for his precious gift.