 Photo by Joshua Reddekopp on Unsplash  ANDIE
My eyes fly open as the stabbing pain in my stomach washes over me. Uh, what? I yelp, my hands clutching my swollen, rounded stomach, but the pain is gone before I’m able to fully comprehend what is happening. Beside me, Connor is awake in an instant, rolling over, his eyes wild. “What is it, a chuisle mo chroí? Are ye okay?” “I think I just had a contraction,” I pant, my hands still clutching my stomach. Connor’s eyes widen, his hands moving to cradle my stomach near mine. “D’we go to the hospital now?” His eyes flicker over to the small suitcase I have packed near our bedroom door. “I don’t think so,” I groan, my head slumping back to the pillow. “I think we’re supposed to wait until they happen more frequently. Or if my waters break.” Connor nods, his hand moving to stroke my hair out of my face. His lips twitch up into a tiny smirk. “I’m assuming ye don’t want me to alert my mammy.” I shoot him a glare. “You better not,” I hiss. Connor chuckles, sliding out of bed, flipping on a light in the bathroom as he walks in, leaving the door open a sliver. I watch him go. Siobhan Fitzpatrick means well, but I’m about ready to strangle the woman. I’m sick of being coddled. I don’t mind it as much when Connor does it, but Siobhan is a little…cloying. The shower runs, and I bite back a whimper as another contraction washes over me. After a moment, Connor reappears, clad only in a towel slung low around his waist. “D’ye want a warm shower, a chuisle mo chroí?” “Yes,” I groan, holding out my hand as Connor comes over and lifts me out of bed, leading me into the bathroom and helping me out of my nightgown. He drops the towel, stepping into the shower with me. I wash my hair, rinsing it until another contraction hits. My hands land on the shower wall and I whimper. After a moment, I feel strong hands massaging my lower back. Actually, that does help. The pain subsides and I blow out a breath as Connor’s arms wrap around me, his lips tickling my ear as he presses a kiss there. “What did ye want to do, a chuisle mo chroí?” I don’t know? Stay like this? Lie down? The options are endless. I’m about to speak when suddenly, the weirdest thing happens. It’s like… I don’t know… a baseball falls out of me. Oh god, is it the baby? With a squeak, I look down wildly, but there isn’t any baby. Instead, there is a huge blob on the floor of the shower. “A chuisle mo chroí?” Connor steps away from me, bending to see what I’m looking at. “I think my waters just broke,” I whimper. Connor immediately snaps upright, shutting off the lovely warm water. “Let’s get ye dry and dressed. Then we’ll go to the hospital.” I nod, my heart thumping in my chest. Oh my god. This is actually happening. I don’t know if I’m ready. I let Connor lead me out of the shower, towel us both down, and help me into my dress. Leaning heavily on him as he carries my suitcase, we make it down the stairs and he loads me into the SUV, fastening the seatbelt around me, and slamming the door. As he slides in, he is already dialing on the Bluetooth. He better not be calling his mother. “Lucky?” Seamus’s voice fills the car, and I sigh with relief. “Andie’s waters just broke. We’re heading to the hospital now.” “I’ll call Paddy. You look after Andie, we’ll be there.” “I want Lauren,” I wail, clutching my stomach as I cut off in a hiss, another contraction hitting. “Aye, lass,” Seamus assures me over the phone. “I’ll make sure Paddy gets her there as soon as he can.” Connor hits the button on the steering wheel to end the call, his foot pressing harder on the gas when I let out another whimper, clutching my stomach. CONNOR Clutching my precious blue bundle, I press a kiss to Andie’s temple. She mumbles sleepily, blinking up at me. “Ye get some sleep, a chuisle mo chroí. I’m going to take Eoin to meet everyone.” “Okay,” she mumbles, rolling over as she curls up. Straightening, I hold my son closer to my chest, stepping out of the room, carefully and slowly walking through the corridors to the small, private waiting room. All heads turn in my direction. Tiggy isn’t here – but that’s expected. It’s early in the morning and she has a wean of her own at home. Lauren is snoozing in Paddy’s arms – she was in the delivery room with us, so she’s already met the wean. Paddy gently shifts his wife so she is curled up in the chair and rises, crossing with Seamus to me. “A son,” I announce proudly, unable to keep the huge, beaming grin off my face as I present the bundle. “Eoin Lachlan Fitzpatrick.” Seamus and Paddy grin, leaning closer to get a look at my son while my heart swells with pride. Mammy will be happy with the name. I wanted my pa’s name in there, but I didn’t want to name a son after him. That’s a lot for a little wean to live up to. I spent half my life feeling like I needed to live up to my pa’s reputation. I don’t want my son to have such a cloud hanging over his head. “Hand him over then,” Seamus demands, holding out his hands. Paddy shoots him a glare. “You already have a son to cradle, I should get to hold him first,” he grumbles. Seamus carefully lifts Eoin out of my arms, cradling him and crooning. “Knock your wife up, then you can hold your own.” Paddy snorts, quickly checking over his shoulder, but Lauren is still fast asleep. “I’m trying, but unfortunately I don’t have Fitzpatrick super sperm to work with.” Seamus shakes his head. “Surely we’re not making Fitzpatrick super sperm a thing.” Paddy shrugs, holding out his hands to demand the wean. “Two failed birth control methods don’t lie. Fitzpatrick super sperm is a thing. Be careful, Niall will be wanting to harvest some. He’s always grumbling that Mellie isn’t pregnant yet.” Seamus reluctantly hands Eoin over as Paddy cradles him, grinning down at his small, red face. “I’m going to be your fun godfather. You don’t worry about this stick-in-the-mud over here. I’ve got you covered, Eoin.” Seamus scoffs, glaring at Paddy. “I’m more fun than you. You have no idea how to lighten up.” That’s not entirely true. Paddy has loosened up a lot since Lauren came into his life. Reaching out, I take my son back, holding him close. “I should get back to Andie.” “Yeah, I should get the lass home,” Paddy looks over his shoulder again, his eyes softening as they land on his wife. Seamus grins at me. “I’ll bring Tig and Cillian later in the day. I want the weans to meet each other.” My face lights up. I’m glad Andie got pregnant so quickly in our relationship. I want the weans to be as close as Seamus and I are. I can’t wait to introduce them. The lads wave me off as I take my precious cargo, leaving the waiting room and making my way back to the private room. Andie is still asleep when we step inside, so I set Eoin down in his bassinet, kicking my shoes off and crawling into the bed behind her, my arms encircling her. Andie murmurs, squirming closer to me as my eyes flutter shut. This is the life. Now I just have to call Mammy to let her know the wean is here. I might have a nap first. She’ll be livid that everyone knew before she did. A smirk tugs at the corners of my lips as I drift off. That’s going to be a hell of a converstion. THE END.  Photo by Hannah Jacobson on Unsplash  MELLIE
My eyes fly open, and I slide out of bed, slipping out the door and along the hall. I tug the bathroom door shut, landing on my knees and emptying my stomach into the bowl with a strangled groan. When I finish heaving, I lay my head on the seat, sweat beading my brow as I suck in deep breaths. This is our second trip to Ireland. We came the May after we got married. It was magical, just like Niall promised. So, we came back again this May. It’s been decidedly less magical. I think I might have caught something on the plane because I haven’t been able to stop throwing up. “Are you all right, a mhuirnín?” Niall’s rumbling voice washes over me as he slides to his knees beside me, his fingers stroking my hair. “No,” I croak, lifting my head so I can slump against his chest. “I feel awful.” “More vomiting?” I force my eyes open, looking at Niall’s Aunt Niamh, standing in the doorway, her dressing gown drawn tightly around her. “Aye,” Niall replies, sounding worried. “Should we go to see the doctor?” Niamh Byrne raises an eyebrow, harrumphing. “Maybe not. Niall, why don’t ye go downstairs and set the kettle going? I’ll help Mellie get cleaned up.” Niall grumbles, not wanting to leave me, but finally stands, pressing a kiss to my hair as he goes. Once he has gone, Niamh closes the door behind him, crouching beside me. “Have ye thought ye might be pregnant, lass?” I blink at her in surprise, trying to do some quick math in my head. Like I promised Niall, I stopped taking my birth control last May when we were here. But it’s been a year and not even a hint of a baby. Dr. Morales, the OBGYN Tiggy put me onto back in Boston, said to give it another two months, and if there were still nothing, we’d start doing tests. I’m only twenty-four, so she wasn’t too worried that nothing was happening immediately. Shit. When was my last cycle? I shake my head. “Maybe. Should I get a test?” Niamh smiles kindly at me. “Are ye two trying, lass?” “Since last May. Niall wants a baby wicked bad.” “And ye?” I smile, my hand moving to my stomach. “I wasn’t sure at first, but now… yes. I want a baby.” “Let’s get ye cleaned up, then we can have some tea and toast while Niall pops off to the chemist for a test.” Nodding, I let the surprisingly strong older woman help me up. A warm shower has me feeling a little more human, and she helps me downstairs. As soon as we walk into the kitchen, Niall has his arm around my waist, guiding me to the scrubbed wooden table, and lowering me into a seat, a cup of tea and some dry toast landing in front of me. He presses another kiss to my forehead, looking over as his aunt speaks. “Ye should go to the chemist, Niall.” He blinks in surprise, his eyes creasing with worry as they sweep over me. “Ye think she needs medicine?” “I think she needs a pregnancy test,” Niamh drawls. Niall’s whole body freezes until he’s a statue with wide, blinking green eyes. “Ye think Mellie could be pregnant?” he breathes, hope coloring his tone. “I think it’s a distinct possibility. The sickness, the tiredness, the not wanting to eat. All possible pregnancy symptoms. I’ll sit with the lass. Ye go and fetch a test. If it’s negative, we’ll organize a doctor’s visit.” Niall is out the door before she’s even speaking, and I have to smile. He has wanted a baby for so long. Hope curdles in my stomach as I cradle it. It’s a little bloated, but I didn’t think anything of it, until now. NIALL “Hello?” I call out as I step through the door, the bag from the chemist clutched tightly in my hand. “We’re still in here,” Aunt Niamh calls back from the kitchen. I poke my head through the doorway, my eyes landing on Mellie, who has eaten half her dry toast and finished her cup of weak tea. Aunt Niamh is dressed for the day, stirring at what smells to be the makings of a delicious lamb stew at the stove. “Ye two go upstairs. I’ll be waiting here for the news,” she calls over her shoulder. Nodding, I help Mellie stand, leading her up the stairs. As we enter the bathroom, I study her face. I was starting to worry about her. She has woken every morning of this trip with her head in the toilet, emptying her stomach. Then she sleeps most of the day. Yet she always has dark circles under her eyes. She still looks beautiful, but she doesn’t look well. Extracting the box from the shopping bag, I hold it up, carefully reading the instructions. “What do I need to do?” Mellie asks, holding out her hand. I give her the little plastic wand, pointing to the blue cap. “Take that off, pee on the end for five seconds, then we stick the cap back on and wait five minutes,” I read off the box. Mellie lets out a breath, tugging her panties down as she sits on the toilet, holding the wand between her legs. After a moment, she removes it, sticks the blue cap back on, and hands it to me. “Now we wait?” she asks, blowing out a breath. “Aye, a mhuirnín. Now we wait.” Setting the timer on my phone, I sink to the floor, my back against the vanity cabinet, my forearms propped up on my knees. Mellie flushes the toilet, washes her hands, and sinks down beside me, her head tipping onto my shoulder. We stare at the shower curtain in silence until my phone beeps, the noise loud in the otherwise silent room. Reaching over my head, I fumble with the wand where it lies on the vanity unit, bringing it down as Mellie lifts her head to look at it as well. My breath leaves me in a whoosh as I stare at the little screen. Pregnant. “A baby,” Mellie whispers, wonder coloring her tone. A wean. I’m having a wean with Mellie. My arm snakes around her shoulder, tugging her against my chest as I bury my face in her hair. Excitement surges through me, but at the same time, worry settles low in my gut. So many things can go wrong in a pregnancy. How can I protect my Mellie from them all? I grunt as a finger pokes and prods, digging into my side. “Careful, lass,” I grunt at her. Mellie makes a scoffing noise. “You’re worrying. Stop worrying.” “Sure, and I’m worrying, a mhuirnín. There are things to worry about.” “No, you’re supposed to be happy. You wanted a baby. We both wanted a baby.” Smiling, I lift my head, tipping hers back so I can brush a kiss over her lips. “I’m happy. a mhuirnín. Happy and worried.” Mellie giggles, rolling her eyes, a growl rumbling out of me. “Ye know how I feel about ye rolling yer eyes, a mhuirnín,” I warn. Mellie grins up at me. “I do. Is the Reaper going to come out to play?” My tongue darts out to lick my lips as I stand, carefully cradling her as I lift her, carrying Mellie back to our bedroom. “He is, lass. But he’s going to be very careful.” “Boo,” Mellie whines, clinging to my neck. “I don’t want a careful Reaper.” “I’ll see what I can do, lass. But I’m making no promises.” Mellie giggles as I kick the door shut behind me, laying her on the bed. When I speak, my voice is smooth as silk, just as Mellie likes. “Now, lass. Why didn’t ye think to take a pregnancy test earlier?” Mellie’s response is lost in moans as my tongue swirls over her pulse point. My hand moves to stroke her still-flat tummy. I wonder when we get to hear the heartbeat. I can’t wait for that. THE END.  Photo by Gary Bendig on Unsplash  PADDY
Striding through the hallway, my footsteps loud against the hardwood floor, I poke my head into the living room, frowning at its emptiness. The lass isn’t anywhere. “Lauren?” I call out, moving back to the hallway, making for the kitchen at the back of the house. It’s not like the lass to go out during the day without letting me know. My heart thuds in my chest. We may have fulfilled the Italian’s shopping list, but Liam and our lads have been running into a lot of trouble down at the dockside warehouses. The Italian splinter cell is still a thorn in our side. Christ. I should have demanded Sean put a man on her. Doyle’s crew is known for being good watchmen. I’m sure he could have loaned a man or two. My heart thuds, my breath leaving me in a whoosh as I step into the kitchen, my eyes drinking in the sight of Lauren standing on the sink, washing a pan. “Mo chroí, didn’t you hear me calling?” I ask, crossing the room to her and sliding my hands around her waist. Lauren tips her head back, her amber eyes pinning me into position as she looks up at me, her eyes shining. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she breathes. My eyebrows start to rise. I wasn’t exactly being quiet. With a grin, Lauren tips her head forward, drying her hands and spinning in my arms until she can wrap her arms around me, our chests pressed together. “I was hoping you’d be home early.” “Is that so, mo chroí? And why is that?” Lauren grins impishly up at me. “I have a surprise for you.” I can’t say I’ve ever been one to enjoy surprises, but then again, I usually enjoy everything with Lauren. “And what would that me, lass?” “I’ll show you.” She slides out of my hold, ducking sideways. By the time I turn, she’s already at the kitchen door, raising a hand to gesture for me to follow her. I’ll follow the lass anywhere, so I cross to her, taking her outstretched hand and tangling our fingers together. Her purse is on the sideboard near the front door, and she snatches it up, reaching for the door handle. My eyebrows shoot up as my fingers close around her wrist, stopping her. “Uh, I thought I wasn’t on house arrest anymore.” Lauren frowns, trying to free her wrist so she can open the door. “You aren’t. But where are we going?” “To where you proposed. That’s where the surprise is.” “And how did it get there?” I rumble. Lauren rolls her eyes at me. “You’ll have to wait and see.” Grumbling, I lead her out of the house, helping her into the SUV and pulling out of the driveway. I have no problem going to the nature reserve where I proposed to her. It’s where my parents used to take me for picnics when I was a little lad. It’s how I felt they could be included in my proposal. But I want to know how the surprise got there. Did Lauren leave the house earlier without my knowing? She is bouncing eagerly in her seat, her eyes darting around as we drive. I bite back a smile. I’m useless at denying the lass what she wants. Of course, I was going to take her to the nature reserve if she asked. Parking the SUV, I take Lauren’s hand, leading her through the path in the trees until we reach the bench I first sat her on to ask her to marry me. I look around, but I can’t see anything worthy of a surprise. “Let’s sit,” Lauren announces, dropping onto the bench. I sink down beside her, still glancing around. “Close your eyes.” My eyebrows shoot up. Sure, and why would I close my eyes? Lauren glares at me. “If you want your surprise, close your eyes and hold out your hand.” Okay. My eyes flutter closed as I lift my hand, holding it out to her, palm up. It sounds like she’s rifling through her purse, and then something smooth and plastic is placed in my hand. “You can open your eyes now.” She sounds excited. My eyes snap open, dropping to see what I’m holding. It’s a pregnancy test. My breath sucks in, my heart thudding as I turn it over, looking carefully at the two clear blue lines. Pregnant. My eyes fly back up to her broadly grinning face. “Ye’re sure, mo chroí?” I breathe, hardly daring to hope. “I’m sure,” Lauren agrees, her eyes shining bright. I crush her to me, my lips crashing down on hers, my tongue licking into her mouth. I kiss her with all I have, only breaking it to breathe, my forehead still pressed against hers. “You’re happy then?” Lauren asks with a laugh in her voice. “Happy? I’m over the moon, lass.” “Good.” My lips find Lauren’s again, tasting her sweetness as the scent of vanilla swirls around us. My hand cradles her stomach. I’m going to be a daddy. I can’t wait. LAUREN Paddy carefully lifts me from the SUV while I roll my eyes at him. “I’m pregnant, Paddy. Not breakable.” “Ye’re breakable to me, mo chroí.” Ugh. This is going to be a long nine months. I have a feeling that Paddy is going to be insufferably suffocating. He’s lucky I love him and am willing to put up with that. Wicked lucky. As we step into the house, he’s already toying with his phone. My eyes narrow on it. “You’re going to call Seamus and Connor, aren’t you?” A guilty look flashes across his face. “Please, lass. They’ll be over the moon.” I huff a sigh, swallowing my smile. It’s cute that the first thing he wanted to do – after kissing me senseless – is call his best friends to tell them the news. “Fine, I’ll go and call Andie.” Paddy nods, letting me go as I make my way toward the staircase, looking over my shoulder as Paddy speaks. “Ye call her, lass. But then I want ye naked and waiting for me on that bed.” My stomach twists as I grin, hurrying my way upstairs. I’m going to have the world’s quickest phone call to Andie to let her know the news. Paddy better not linger on the phone with Seamus and Connor. I want him in bed. To give him some incentive, I shed my T-shirt, dropping it over the banister as I go. Below me, Paddy catches it handily, his head tipping back, his phone already at his ear. His eyes darken as a low growl rumbles out of him, his gaze dipping to my breasts, already a little bigger than they were and bulging a little in my pink bra. “I’ll be up in five minutes, lass,” he promises. “Ye better be ready.” Oh, I’ll be ready. Maybe I should let Andie know in a text. THE END.  Photo by Omar Lopez on Unsplash  SEAMUS
“One more push, Tiggy,” Dr. Morales coaches, her blonde head disappearing between Tig’s legs again as she ducks down. With a grunt, Tig grips her knees, hauling her chest forward, her face turning tomato red with the effort. I stand helplessly beside her, my arm around her shoulders, supporting her – but that’s all I can fucking do. Jesus fuck, it feels so wrong to watch my wife go through this while I just stand here. “Push, push, push, stop!” the doctor coaches. Tig slumps back against my warm with a small wail. “Is it out yet?” she asks, her voice cutting off in a pitiful sob. Christ. Pressing a kiss to her temple, I turn to the doctor, my eyebrows raised. “Almost,” Dr. Morales assures us cheerfully. “No more pushing.” “No,” Tig whimpers. “I have to push. I have to get it out of me.” I squeeze her shoulders as the doctor shakes her head. “No. We’re going to pant now, Tiggy and the baby will come out.” Tig is shaking her head, her lips pressed together, but even as she keeps shaking her head, she opens her mouth, panting roughly. The doctor beams, her head disappearing again. “That’s it, Tiggy! Just like that! You’re doing great.” My baby is almost here. Holy shite. Taking Tig’s hand, I lift it to my lips, brushing a kiss there as I watch her face, screwed up in concentration as she pants. She is red-faced and sweaty, and her hair an absolute mess. She has never looked more beautiful than she does at this moment. “Is tú mo shaol ar fad.” Tig keeps panting, the doctor still encouraging. Still holding Tig’s hand, I inch down the side of the bed, my feet drawn by some primal urge. Peering between her legs, I stare in shock as the baby slides into the doctor’s waiting hands, a mess of fluid and flesh, in some cases barely indistinguishable from each other. Dr. Morales flips the baby over, his face red and scrunched up, his head slightly misshapen. “Congratulations, it’s a boy.” My heart stutters. I have a son. Tig and I have a son. Tig lets out a strangled sob as the doctor places the tiny, red baby on her chest. Tig’s face lights up with love as she looks at his little face. “He’s perfect,” she croaks. Yes, he is. Dr. Morales hands me a weird-looking pair of scissors. “Ready to cut the cord, daddy?” She places two clamps on the cord still connecting the Tig and our son. I snip where she points. It’s not as easy as cutting paper, but I get the job done. Our son lets out a small cry, and a nurse carefully lifts him off Tig’s chest. “We just need to weigh him and clean him up, then you can have a hold, daddy,” she informs me cheerfully, bearing my son off to the other side of the room. Turning back to Tig, I brush a kiss over her brow. “Ye did amazing, mo bhean chéile.” “He’s here,” she croaks back. Yes, he is. “Tiggy, we need to deliver the placenta now,” the doctor says. I glance over at her as Tig nods, but I’m distracted as the nurse approaches, holding a little green bundle in her arms. My son. “You hold him like this,” she says, carefully laying him along the crook of my arm, showing me how to support his little neck. As the nurse steps back and I cradle my son, looking down at his little, scrunched-up, red face, the world shrinks to a tiny bubble, and my heart swells with love. I had a necklace made for Tig that is inscribed with the Irish words for you are my whole world, but that simply isn’t true anymore. She isn’t my entire world because Tig and our son are my whole world. “Have we thought of a name?” the nurse asks, bursting into my little bubble. “Cillian,” both Tig and I mutter at the same time. “Lovely,” the nurse replies, moving off as I croon quietly to my son. TIGGY Giving birth is exhausting. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s exhausting. I feel like I could sleep for a week. At the same time, I am wide awake, and I only want to stare at Cillian’s little face all the time. He’s sleeping peacefully now in his little bassinet beside my hospital bed. Beside him, Seamus is also asleep, stretched out in the visitor’s armchair. They tried to make him leave, but he informed the nurse that visiting hours didn’t apply to him. The nurse didn’t argue that fact. There are benefits to having your husband be an infamous mafia figure. I smile over them both, my guys. I didn’t think it was possible to love two people this much. Curling on my side, I tuck my hand under my cheek, my eyes settling on Cillian’s face. One thing I always wondered about was if giving birth was as painful as they say, why women did it more than once. Now I know. Looking at Cillian’s perfect little face, I would one hundred percent do it all over again, just for this moment. There is a stirring as Seamus blinks awake, his eyes focusing and meeting mine. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and I grin back at him. His hand reaches out, resting on Cillian’s head, stroking it. Everything that led us to this moment was worth it. Our marriage might not have been perfect to start, but it sure is perfect now. Our little family is beyond wonderful, and I wouldn’t want anything else. Who would have thought, all that time ago, that being told I was marrying Seamus Fitzpatrick in three weeks would turn out to be the best thing ever to happen to me? I sure didn’t. Life is funny that way and pretty perfect. THE END. |
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