Series Starter Firsts in Series Collection - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,20

lot. I’m not sure I’m a firm believer, but I do know that if I were in your shoes I would want to believe it. Help her be here in this moment. Maybe she’ll remember, maybe she won’t, but either way, you’ll have no regrets.” With those parting words, she shuts the door, closing me in.

“You must be Dad,” a cheery nurse greets me. “We have a chair for you, right beside Mom. I’ll help answer any questions you may have during the procedure.”

Swallowing hard, I nod and take the seat next to Melissa. Reaching out, I grab her hand and lace her fingers through mine, mindful of her IV. “Hey, Melissa. So, little man is having some trouble. It’s nothing serious, they tell me, but his vitals are dropping. The doctors think it’s best if they deliver him today. We’re here now in the operating room. I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” I ramble on and on, my nerves getting the best of me.

I continue, telling her about the daily ultrasounds and how he seems to like to suck his thumb. I tell her that my family is here for all three of us, waiting to meet our son. I tell her how great she’s done, doing this all on her own, and how sorry I am that she’s missing this moment.

“He’s out,” the doctor says, but his voice is tense.

The room is quiet, no cries. Aren’t there supposed to be cries? Come on, baby, one breath. One breath at a time.

Then I hear him.

“Is he . . . ?” I’m overwhelmed with the sound of my son’s first cries. I’m a father.

“They’re going to get him cleaned up, run a few newborn tests, and then you can hold him,” the cheery nurse explains.

“She’s doing great, Ridge,” Dr. Ellis assures me. “Just closing up and then we’ll send her to recovery.”

“You hear that, Melissa? Did you hear him? His lungs sound strong and healthy. They’re checking him over really well and then I get to hold him. Open your eyes for me. I hate that you’re missing this. He’s your family.” My voice cracks when the last few words fall from my lips.

His cries suddenly quiet, causing me to whip my head around. There, standing behind me, is the cheery nurse holding him. He’s all bundled up in a blanket. My hands start to shake, and my heart beats wildly in my chest.

“He passed with flying colors. He’s already had his bath, and we even did the swab for the paternity test. He’s ready to eat, Dad. What do you say?”

I look back at Melissa, willing her to wake up. She’s missing this. Turning back to the nurse, I answer with, “I-I don’t know what to do.”

She smiles. “How about I take him to the nursery while you change out of the scrubs, and you can meet me there? Mom will be in recovery for a few hours at least before we can move her back to her room.”

“Okay.” I stand and lean over, kissing Melissa on the forehead. “I’ll take good care of him, and we’ll see you soon. Fight, Melissa. We need you.” Rising to my full height, I wait as the nurse places my son in an incubator-looking contraption and motions for me to follow her.

In the nursery, I’m pulled to the side and told that I need to go to the lab for my part of the paternity test. With directions in hand, I head that way. I’m speed-walking, because I want to get back to him. My heart tells me he’s mine, so I just want to get this over with so we can get the results and move forward.

The test is a simple swab to the cheek. They get me in and out, confirming that the doctor has requested the test to be performed STAT. I make quick work to get back to the nursery. The same nurse from the OR greets me with a smile. “I’ll be your nurse until the shift change this evening. Have a seat in one of those rockers, and you can hold and feed your son.”

My son.

On shaking legs, I take my place in the rocker, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. I’m scared as hell that I’ll drop him, or hurt him, or . . . I don’t know what, but I’m nervous.

“Here you go, Daddy,” the nurse says. “Cradle your arms. There you go,” she cheers then gently places him in