Nero - Page 179

His eyes fill with tears. His mouth brushes my lips lightly, then my forehead.

“I love you, Little Fae,” he says—but his emotion lasts less than three seconds, because Kael’s shrill scream reaches us.

“Kael, get out of the water! Now!” Nero orders.

“Why, Daddy?” my son challenges, and I sit back down in the sand. With the same urgency he had helping me up, my husband helps me sit again.

I don’t know what’s funnier—Nero turning into a grumpy old man, or Kael developing the habit of not taking his father’s overprotectiveness seriously, just like Drako taught him.

“You don’t know how to swim!” Nero explains, crossing his arms as he watches our son get tossed over Atlas—who’s acting as the net in a game where Kael is the ball, bouncing between Apollo and Drako.

“My uncles catch me, Daddy. Or I float. I know how to float,” Kael shouts between laughs.

“Out of the water!” Nero repeats, then turns to me. “Your mother is waiting. She came to visit. You all stress me out so much I even forgot,” he complains, sitting in the sand beside me.Together we watch Drako bring our son back dangling by his ankles, leaving a trail of water behind them.

“You need to relax, Nero. Or you’ll have a heart attack before Iris is born.”

“If my brothers and my wife would cooperate, it’d be a lot easier,” he grumbles. He raises the chip bag toward Apollo. “Didn’t I tell you not to eat junk food in front of my wife?”

Apollo grabs the bag from his hand, turns his back to me, and dumps the remaining chips into his mouth all at once. He turns back around, cheeks ridiculously full.

“Happy, Grandpa?”

“Not even a little. I’m banning you from my house!” Nero threatens, standing up and picking Kael up before offering me his hand, hesitating for a second about whether that support is enough or if he should put Kael down.

When a strong contraction pulls through my body, my belly tightens and I tremble, trying to control my breathing. Everyone notices—but no one says anything so they won’t scare Kael.

The water running down my legs, however, triggers total panic.

“Calm down!” Nero says to everyone, even though his hands are shaking. I’d laugh if a second contraction didn’t hit me right then. “We have a plan!” my husband insists.

“We do,” Apollo agrees, rolling his shoulders back like he’s preparing for a marathon.

“Alright! I’ll take Kael home,” Atlas announces, already throwing my son over his shoulder. Kael bursts out laughing.

“Bye, Mommy. Bring my little sister home! Don’t let her try to fly, okay?” he says, kissing my cheek. I laugh—my son simply can’t separate the idea that hospital trips must involve flying. “Take good care of both of them, Daddy. Really good,” he instructs Nero, and my husband takes a two-second break from his pre-labor meltdown to properly say goodbye to our son.

“Why did he get the easiest job?” Drako asks once Atlas is already gone with Kael.

“I’ll grab the hospital bag from my car,” Apollo says, already heading off.

“So I’m the one who has to carry the watermelon?” Drako complains. “Next time you give birth, Nina, I’m staying out of the plan. This one’s costing me credit.”

“Shut up, Drako!” Nero snaps, nervous. His brother positions himself on my left while my husband stays on my right. They hook my arms over their shoulders and we start walking slowly. “This isn’t working,” Nero complains, stopping.

“Calm down! There’s still plenty of time!” I warn.

“I saw on TV a woman who gave birth in an elevator because it was all very fast,” Drako decides is a good thing to mention, and I squeak when Nero slides one arm behind my back, the other under my knees, and lifts me.

“Nero!” I protest, but he doesn’t care.

He simply carries me across the sand for meters and meters as if it’s the easiest thing in the world—and it’s impossible not to laugh or love him a little more because of it.

***

The walls are just as white as the first time. The surgical clothes on my body are just as blue as the first time. There are the same number of doctors on the team as there were the first time—and yet, everything is completely different now.

I squeeze Nero’s hand hard when another contraction hits. That’s one of the biggest differences. He’s here—truly here—to hold my hand, not just in my imagination.