Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Epilogue

Jax

Five months later

When the entire Wilder family showed up for any single event, it was nothing short of a fucking circus. The first preseason game for the Portland Voyagers wasn’t normally something we’d get a luxury box for, but given that Parker was desperately trying to pull his head out of his ass, there was no option but for the entire family to show up.

Although I’d been friends with him since high school, and Cameron had two brothers and now two brothers-in-law who played professional football, I’d never been to a game before.

It was loud. And there were people.

Normally, that was enough to deter me, but the woman standing at my side—wearing a blue Wilder jersey stretched across her very large belly—would get anything she wanted, if it was up to me.

So we were at the game. When she was forty-one weeks pregnant.

“I can’t believe she got you to cave,” Cameron said, eyeing his sister. She waddled more than she walked lately, and we’d had three rounds of false labor over the same number of weeks. We’d tried spicy food and long walks, more shower sex than I thought I’d ever have in a two week period, and we still couldn’t trigger the real thing. Despite the fact that she was ready to rip the baby out herself if it meant not being pregnant anymore, she did not want to miss this game.

“Do you know how hard it is to say no to her when she really wants something?” I asked, leaning closer so Poppy didn’t hear me. “I had to smuggle her OB in to the section right below us just in case she goes into labor.”

“You didn’t.”

Jerking my chin up, I pointed at a seat two rows in front of our box. “The lady in the blue hat and white shirt.”

“No shit,” Cameron breathed. “I had no idea you were so paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid, asshole. I just don’t want to have to deliver our baby in a car because we’re stuck in fucking traffic trying to leave this stadium. Do you think I’d do well in that situation?”

“No,” he said gravely. “I don’t.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I sighed. “Glad we agree on that.”

I’d been a ball of fucking nerves for weeks leading up to Poppy’s due date. The house was ready. Beyond ready. Nesting, or whatever the hell she called it, had started about a month ago.

The nursery was painted a beautiful, calm green. On the far wall, Greer had painted a beautiful mural of a meadow, with tall grasses and leaves and an aspen tree.

There was a shelf full of books and little wooden toys that Ian made, and a closet full of impossibly tiny clothes. Under the changing table were bins full of diapers, and even though Poppy teased me, I practiced on one of Olive’s dolls until I felt like I could manage it.

I’d all but moved in with her about a month after we started dating, because I decided it was really stupid to sleep in a bed without her when I had the other option in front of me. For the time being, we decided to keep my place, because with the amount of land I had, we could build something bigger if we decided Henry’s house wasn’t where we wanted to stay long term.

For now, though, it was home. And God, it was a good one.

Every morning, I got to wake up with her in my arms. Every day, I got to take care of her—lately, it was helping her put on her shoes and painting her toenails, which I was slowly improving at after slathering hot pink nail polish all over her toes.

Who created those tiny-ass little brushes was beyond me. They sure weren’t meant for big, clumsy hands like mine.

And in those mornings and days and nights, we found a seamless rhythm that made it seem like we’d been doing that forever. That I’d been loving her forever.

Probably because it felt like I had.

She was so fucking smart. And insightful. A better listener than anyone I’d ever met. And the fact that our kid would have her as a mom was more than I could handle.

And she was also really, really loud when she was at her brother’s games.

Parker got flagged for offensive pass interference, and Poppy cupped her hands around her mouth and booed. “Get your eyes checked, ref,” she yelled. “He hardly touched him.”

I settled my hand on her back as she rubbed a hand over her stomach and winced.

“Maybe the screaming isn’t helping,” I told her, dropping a kiss to her temple.

Poppy didn’t answer, though, stilling immediately and staring down at the ground.

“What is it?” I asked, concern making my chest tight.

She sucked in a deep breath and looked up at me with wide eyes. “I think my water just broke.”

“What?” I yelled. “Holy shit, I knew this was a bad idea.”

Poppy laughed, dragging my face closer and giving me a quick kiss. “It’s fine,” she said. “Childbirth happens all the—” she froze, face bending in pain. “Oh fuck a duck,” she groaned. “That’s a big one.”

I felt her stomach, and the skin was hard. “Have you been having contractions?” I asked incredulously.

“I mean, sort of?” she hedged.

“Poppy.”

“I thought it was false labor again, and they were way more than five minutes apart. I could still talk through them, so I didn’t think it was anything to worry about.” Looking into my face, she winced because my jaw was about hanging down to the ground. “Sorry?”

It was at that moment that I realized the entire suite was dead silent, eyes on me and Poppy.

“Is she—” Sheila asked.

“Holy shit, is she in labor?” Greer asked.

“I think she peed her pants,” Sage whispered.

“She’s wearing a skirt,” Ian corrected. “She peed her skirt.”

Poppy breathed out a laugh, hand over her stomach.

I was just trying not to have a panic attack in the middle of the box. “Yes, her water broke. We need to get out of here.”

The suite erupted. Sheila grabbed all of Poppy’s things, Greer bolted from the box to get security. Erik’s wife Lydia was on the phone with someone, asking about prepping a private hospital suite. Cameron, Ian, and Erik watched wide-eyed as their sister was gripped with another contraction, and her legs buckled as she cried out. Heart hammering, I wrapped an arm around her waist and yelled for Cameron.

“Go get the doctor,” I told him.

He ran from the suite as I eased Poppy onto a small sofa. “Breathe, okay? Deep breaths. You remember what she said in the birthing class. ”

Poppy did as she was instructed. “Oh that one came fast,” she groaned.

“You’ll be fine, angel.” My voice came out calm and steady, which was a fucking miracle. My pulse was racing wildly, my heart trying to thrash out of my chest. There was nothing I could do. Not really.

Hold her hand.

Feed her ice chips.

Not stare at her vagina, which was a promise I’d made when we watched a birthing video in the class.

And it was that wildly out of control feeling that had me closing my eyes and fighting for calm. She squeezed my hand, and I opened my eyes.

There it was.

The calm, as it always was, was found in her.

She smiled. “We’re gonna meet our baby,” she whispered.

“Yeah, we are,” I whispered back. “I can’t wait.”

Cameron jogged back into the room, and Poppy’s head reared back when she saw her OB. “Dr. Beal? What are you doing here?” she asked.

Dr. Beal smiled from underneath her Voyagers hat. “Someone very generous purchased my ticket and heavily suggested I take in a preseason game.”

Poppy laughed, turning to give me a kiss. “You didn’t.”

“You didn’t leave me much choice, Poppy. It was either that or have them prep a delivery suite next to the locker room.”

The doctor smiled, tapping Poppy’s leg and having her lean back while she snapped some gloves on. “Why don’t you head into the bathroom? I just want to see where we are before we head out to the hospital, okay?”

With my arm around Poppy’s waist, I helped her into the suite’s restroom and Poppy did her best, leaning up against the counter while Dr. Beal examined her. “Goodness,” she said, eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “You’re already at a five, my dear.”

Oh yes. I knew what this meant. Centimeters. Learned that one in the class, where I also discovered—to my chagrin—what a mucus plug was. Could’ve gone the rest of my life not knowing it, but it was honestly shocking what I’d gotten used to at this point.

Poppy’s face went white. “I am? Does this mean I can’t get my epidural?”

Immediately, she started crying, and I brushed the hair back off her forehead, trying my best to calm her.

“You’ll be just fine, sweetie,” Dr. Beal said. “Let’s just get you somewhere?—”

The doctor was cut off as another contraction rocked Poppy and she made a low moaning sound that made me want to tear my chest out. Her hand was squeezing mine so tightly, I had to turn away and hide the slight wince of pain.

Honest to God, I thought she was going to break my fucking hand.

Dr. Beal whispered something to Poppy and then left the bathroom. I saw her talking to Greer and Lydia. Lydia was gesturing wildly, and they both had concern on their faces.

“What are they talking about?” Poppy asked, leaning her forehead against my shoulder.

“I don’t know, angel. But you’ll be just fine.”

“You snuck my doctor into the game,” she said. Her eyes were still wet from tears, and underneath her smile, I saw worry and fear.

I cupped her face. “I’d do a lot more than that to make sure you’re safe.”

Poppy melted into me, clutching at my shirt while another contraction rolled through her. She breathed through it while I rubbed her back.

Dr. Beal came back into the room. “Okay. New plan. A concert just let out across the street, and there’s an accident on the highway we need to use to get to the hospital, so we’re moving to plan B.”

Poppy was breathing hard when the contraction was done. “What’s plan B?”

The doctor smiled. “Well, you have two choices. We can use one of the ambulances here for the game and hope you can get past the traffic. Or … Poppy, how do you feel about being the first person to have a baby at a football stadium? There are EMTs on hand for the game, they’re ready to assist and could take you in after the baby is delivered.”

“What?” I gasped. “I was joking when I said I’d prep a room.”

Dr. Beal cocked an eyebrow, and if she didn’t look so calm, I might have lost my fucking mind right there. “There are worst places to have a baby, trust me. I think we’d do just fine if it comes to that.”

And that was how we found ourselves thirty minutes later, in a treatment room turned into a makeshift delivery suite. Security and medical staff from the team escorted us into the lower level, and with Poppy’s hand gripping mine, her entire freaking family trailing behind us, I wondered how the absolute hell this was actually happening.

The room itself wasn’t bad—they’d loaded us up with clean towels and sanitized a cushy, expensive-looking examination table, plastic covering the floor underneath, and Dr. Beal used a long table along the wall to set up her equipment. She scrubbed her arms in a sink and pulled a gown from her purse to wear over her Voyagers gear.

On the table, Poppy did her best to weather the contractions, but they rolled through her body in a way that left her panting and sweaty. More than anything, I just wanted to take it away for her.

Outside the room, eighty-seven Wilders waited, and I tried my best to ignore the fact that we were at a football stadium and Poppy was about to give birth where her brother got massages.

“I hope they burn this table when I’m done with it,” she groaned. Another contraction wracked her frame, and she turned toward me, gripping my hand while I tried to coach her to breathe. Dr. Beal spoke to the EMTs stationed in the room with us, an older Black man and a blonde who looked so young, she couldn’t have been more than twenty-one.

“You got it, angel,” I told her. “You’re doing so fucking great.”

“It hurts,” she whimpered as the contraction came down.

“I know, love. I know.” I brushed my lips over her sweat-damp forehead, only releasing her hand to get a wet washcloth for her forehead.

When I laid it on her skin, she sighed, but the relief was short-lived because there was another contraction right on the heels of the last one.

“We’re close,” Dr. Beal said. “This little one really wants to come meet you two.”

Poppy yelled when she felt the need to push, and I stood at her shoulder, holding her hand and just generally trying not to make anything worse.

But just watching her, God, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

She looked up at the ceiling as she struggled through her breathing exercises, and when it ebbed, she gave me a teary-eyed look. “Is it okay if my mom comes in? I need her.”

“Of course,” I told her.

The look of relief on her face was obvious, and I gave her a quick kiss before heading to the door. When I poked my head out, everyone’s gaze snapped up, but I motioned to Sheila. “She wants you in there.”

Sheila hustled in behind me, and just before I shut the door, I noticed Parker standing with his brothers, stripped down to a white T-shirt and still wearing his game pants and cleats. I gave him a quick nod.

“Tell her the whole team is taking bets on whether they’ll be able to hear her scream in the locker room.” He grinned. “And that if she wants me to win some money, she’ll get really loud.”

Every sibling around him turned to give him an incredulous look.

“What?” he asked.

Greer smacked him on the back of the head, and I blew out a slow breath before retreating back into the room.

The moment Sheila took a position on the other side of Poppy, my girl started bawling, the relief at seeing her mom had tears coursing down her cheeks.

“I don’t know how to do this, Mom,” she sobbed.

Sheila made a soft, shushing noise, running her hand over her daughter’s cheek. “Sure you do, sweetheart. Your body knows exactly what to do. You just get to go along for the ride.” They touched foreheads, and that was when I noticed Sheila was crying too. “And at the end of the ride, you get to hold that perfect baby.”

Poppy sobbed again, blindly reaching for my hand on the other side. “I want to meet her so bad.”

“Her?” I asked, voice suspiciously thick.

Poppy nodded, smiling wide. “I think it’s a girl.”

Another push stopped the conversation. Then another.

For twenty more minutes, Poppy was a fucking warrior, and it was the most incredible, terrifying, awesome thing I’d ever witnessed in my entire life.

Until she came out—screaming at the top of her lungs and with a shock of dark hair—and my whole world came to a screeching, heart-bursting stop.

“It’s a girl,” Dr. Beal said with a huge grin over her face. “You did great, Mama. ”

“It’s a girl?” Poppy sobbed, holding my hand tightly while I kissed her full on the mouth.

Dr. Beal motioned for me, holding out a pair of scissors, and somehow I cut the umbilical cord without passing the fuck out. She wrapped the squirming, gooey bundle of skin and hair and tears and laid her on Poppy’s chest, and I wrapped my arm around them both, kissing Poppy’s temple while we both wept.

The tiny cries from that impossibly tiny body had my heart living somewhere outside of my chest, and I gently laid my hand over her back.

“She’s so small,” I said, awe choking my voice into something unrecognizable. “How is she so small?”

“She’s perfect,” Poppy said through her tears. Then she turned to me—sweaty and exhausted, mascara running down her cheeks—and I’d never seen anything better in my life. “I love you so much.”

I laid a hard kiss on her mouth, rolling my forehead over hers.

Dr. Beal gently picked up the baby and brought her over to the EMTs, who examined her on another table.

Sheila wiped tears from her face and gave Poppy a hug while I wandered over to the table to watch what they were doing.

“Congratulations, Dad,” the older male said. He had kind eyes, and with deft movements, he used some washcloths to wipe all the fluid off her tiny, pink little body. “Ten fingers, ten toes, and a strong set of lungs.”

Dr. Beal patted me on the back. “You did great. I appreciate you not fainting because I would’ve had to leave you there while I tended to Momma.”

I gave her a wry grin. “Understandable.”

When the baby was clean, the EMT handed her carefully to me. A tear slid down my cheek as he instructed me how to cradle her head. Once she was settled in my arms, I blew out a hard breath and stared down at this little person who just blew my world wide open.

“Hi there,” I whispered. She blinked up at me, eyes gray and lashes tiny little spikes against the translucent skin on her eyelids. The tiny squirming sounds from her bow-shaped lips had my heart racing wildly.

How could you love someone this quickly? I brushed my thumb over her tiny fist and breathed out a soft laugh when she blinked slowly.

“I think your momma wants to hold you,” I whispered.

We walked back to the table.

“You look good like that,” Poppy said tiredly. Sheila helped her sit up, adjusting the exam table behind her, and I eased the baby into her arms. “Oh, look at all her hair,” she whispered.

“I suppose this means we need to name her now, huh?”

Poppy stared down at her scrunched little face, button nose, and I swear, I caught a hint of a dimple when she twisted her mouth up, ready to cry again.

“I have an idea,” she said. “What about … Rosie? Rosie Emerson Cartwright.”

At the sound of Henry’s last name, my head snapped up, my heart exploding behind the frail cage of my ribs. “Really?”

She nodded, eyes brimming with tears. “I think someone should honor him, right? He’s still here, but … someday, when he’s gone, you’ll still have a little piece of him.”

I kissed her. With the baby squirming between us. Her mom standing next to us crying. Her entire family waiting out in the hallway to find out what was going on.

Because I couldn’t not kiss her.

Finding someone who makes your life better in every single way, who understands you at your core and isn’t scared of what’s there, it was the greatest kind of gift.

“It’s perfect,” I said against her lips. “I love it.”

She smiled, handing the baby back as the doctor still worked between her legs. Sheila kissed her daughter’s forehead, whispering something I couldn’t hear, and she hurried off to tell the family.

As the door closed behind her, I heard the happy roar of a room full of Wilders—cheering and clapping and a burst of happiness that was tangible. I stared down at Rosie Emerson, and gently touched my finger to her upturned nose, feathering it over the impossibly soft skin of her cheeks, smiling when she turned toward the touch.

“Welcome to your new life, little pup,” I whispered. “It’s a really good one, I promise.”

The End