One Summer Isn't Enough (Summer, #4)

chapter 29

CONRAD

Remember when I was talking about those moments when you don't really believe what's happening in front of you is, like, actually happening? This is one of those moments.

And by this, I mean the nurse holding out a pair of scissors to me, asking if I want to cut my newborn child's umbilical cord.

Nodding, I take it from her and try to steady my hands. You would think someone whose profession involves regular surgeries would have a steadier hand, but this is different altogether. This feels more...permanent.

Belly's still blacked out, which I'm kind of happy about, since it's put her out of her pain. Her breathing is steady now, with her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

A nurse nods at me encouragingly, and I take a deep breath before carefully snipping the cord. Immediately, a nurse takes the scissors from me while another lifts the baby into the air, announcing, "It's a girl!"

Holy shit. I'm the father of a baby daughter now.

The nurse brings my daughter to me and I take her in my arms for the first time. And I swear to God, it's like a different out-of-body experience altogether. And more than anything, I wish Mom was here too.

I close my eyes and kiss my daughter's forehead, not caring about how slippery and bloody her head is. Then, I give her back to the nurse, who then puts her on Belly's chest. Then, they take the smelling salts and hold them under her nose again, and I anxiously watch as she slowly comes to. She takes in her surroundings, and her eyes widen when she registers that her daughter is on her chest. She breathes, "Oh my god," before doing the same as me: closing her eyes and kissing her on the forehead.

I go over to them and stroke Belly's hair. "Hey, Wonder Woman."

She looks over to me and smiles so brightly and disbelievingly, everything inside me just melts. And then it sinks in. This is the mother of my child. Holding my child. And I'm the father. We're a family.

How the fuck did I get so lucky, again?

I pull up a chair next to her and she pulls me in for a kiss. A deep, lingering kiss. Our foreheads touch, and with our daughter in between our chests now, everything is perfect.

We pull away and gaze at our daughter. I nudge Belly's shoulder and say softly, "She has your lips."

She nudges me back and says, "She has your nose." As if to prove her point, she traces her finger over the slope of my nose, and then does the same to our daughter's, smiling proudly as she does.

One thing is for sure, though. She has her grandmother's hair. A head full of light brown locks, soon to be blond.
The nurse softly asks us, "Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, have you decided the name of your daughter? We're preparing the birth certificate and its documentation."

Belly and I look at each other and smile softly before Belly tells the nurse, loud and proud, "Her name is Elizabeck Laurel Fisher."

And finally, Laurel and my mom are together again, as though they had never been separated.