Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,336

her mother. I faced the fires of hell to meet her, to have her, even for just minutes or hours, and Grip and I have risked our hearts to hold her.

She was worth it.

I know it’s unwise and I’ll pay for it soon, but I open my heart to this little girl, and like a flood, she rushes in. She squeezes herself into every inch, pervading any available space until a pressure builds in my chest and explodes in a sob.

“Oh, God.” Tears sluice down my cheeks, imprinting joy on my face. “She’s beautiful.”

I look up to find Grip looking at me the way I must be looking at her—like she’s a miracle I’m going to hold on to as long as I can.

“Beautiful,” he agrees, the tips of his long lashes damp with tears.

“I can’t believe I passed out.” I look back to Zoe, determined to absorb as much of her as I can while I have her.

“Between the drugs and the fatigue, I’m surprised you weren’t out longer. It was just for a few minutes, not long at all.” Grip eases himself down on the bed beside me, sheltering us with his arm over our heads on the pillow. “The nurses said it happens.”

“You cut the cord?” I pry my eyes away from her long enough to catch my husband’s smile, pride shining from every pore.

“Yeah, I did,” he says softly. “It was amazing.”

“Good.”

We both turn when the door opens. Dr. Wagner enters, her face a careful mask of polite concern. A nurse follows closely behind.

“How are we doing?” Dr. Wagner asks, picking up the chart hanging at the end of my bed.

“Okay.” I meet her eyes frankly, gratefully. “I know you weren’t sure we made the right decision, but thank you for getting her here.”

“It wasn’t that, Bristol.” A smile breaks through her professional façade. “That decision can only lie with the parents. It’s my job to make sure you have all the facts and know exactly what a decision entails.”

I glance back down at Zoe and then to Grip. The reality presses in on us. We can’t hide from the end that looms somewhere in the distance, though we don’t know how close.

“With that said,” Dr. Wagner continues, “you know time is short.”

Her words, though true, puncture the joy I managed to find holding Zoe. Some part of me wants to pretend this is a normal birth, that any minute now, my baby will start rooting around, searching for my breasts, already heavy with milk. I want to believe we need to scramble to get a car seat because she came a month early and we were caught off guard and now we have to take her home, but we won’t get to take her home.

“I know your family is outside waiting. As soon as you’re comfortable, if there’s anyone you want to meet Zoe,” Dr. Wagner says gently, “you should bring them in soon.”

“We will.” Grip brushes a thumb across the plump curve of Zoe’s cheek. “Thanks, doc.”

“She’s beautiful,” the doctor says, her eyes on Zoe. “I better go make my rounds. If you need anything, let me know.”

When she leaves, I notice a purple feather on the door.

“What’s the feather for?” I ask the nurse checking Zoe’s vitals.

“Pardon?” Her eyes flick from me to Grip in that carefully calm way that tells me she knows who we are, or rather who Grip is. Nobody cares who I am, and that’s fine by me. We secured this whole section of the wing to ourselves, and there are no other patients nearby. This day is hard enough without the threat of cameras or other patients stumbling into our privacy.

“The feather,” I repeat, pointing to the one hanging on the knob. “Does it mean anything?”

The nurse shifts her feet and her eyes, avoiding the probing look and the question.

“It’s just something we do so the staff knows how to conduct themselves,” she says evasively.

“Knows what?” Grip asks. “I walked the halls some earlier and didn’t see it on any of the other doors.”

She glances at Zoe before answering.

“We hang a purple feather on the door when the baby is a demise so the staff all remain sensitive to the situation,” she says, her voice soft with sympathy.

A demise.

It sounds cold and final, when my baby is anything but as she lies in my arms. She feels warm and alive. It feels like the whole world is waiting for a demise when I’m begging for a miracle.

“So would