Another Goal, page 16
I kissed Millie’s temple. “You’re doing so well.”
She looked up at me, her green-gray eyes filled with hope and worry. “She’ll be okay, right, Luka?”
I smiled at her. “You both will.”
“Okay,” Millie whispered. Her face contorted. “Oh, God…another one.”
“You’re dilated to nine centimeters,” Dr. Lopez said. “My guess is this girl is coming soon.”
“Now,” Millie said. She chanted again and again: now, now, now.
One nurse smiled at me before she turned to offer Millie advice about her breathing.
“Then you do it,” Millie snarled at her. Her name tag read Olivia, and when she looked at me with hurt in her eyes, Millie tried to crawl off the bed to get at her.
“He’s mine, Olivia,” Millie yelled. “Mine! I’ve loved him forever, and no one else will ever love him like I do.” As I reeled from that statement, Millie turned toward me, eyes wet with tears. “For the love of God, Luka, am I going to chase women out of my delivery room?”
“No, sweetheart,” I said. “Of course I’m yours. I love you, too.”
A thrill rippled over me, the hairs on my arms standing on end. Yes, that was right. Even if Millie had told me she loved me for the first time while wrestling a tiny human from her body.
“That did it, Millie,” the doctor announced. “You’re fully dilated, so you can push with the next contraction.”
My moment on cloud nine faded as Millie pushed and strained, panted and screamed. No wonder this was called labor. I’d worked hard my whole life to get in the shape to play professional hockey at an elite level. But never had I seen anyone work as hard as Millie did to bring Bree into the world.
Worry settled in as Millie turned toward me. Her eyes had lost their sheen, her hair was plastered to her head from sweat and tears, and even her lips were pale—nearly bloodless.
“I can’t do it anymore,” she whimpered.
“Yes, you can,” I said. I sent Dr. Lopez a frantic look. “She can, right?”
Dr. Lopez’s expression pinched with worry, but she nodded. “The baby’s in the birth canal. I can see the top of her head. We just need a couple of good pushes to get her out.”
“You can do that, sweetheart. I know you can.”
Millie was already shaking her head. “I can’t. I really can’t. Oh…ohh…” Another contraction hit her. Olivia pressed on Millie’s belly, just under her breasts.
“That was good, Millie. The baby’s crowning,” Dr. Lopez said. But I heard the unease in her voice and saw her glance at the monitors. Millie slumped back, tears of exhaustion leaking from her eyes.
I toed off my shoes and clambered up on the bed. I levered Millie upward, as I’d seen in some of the birth videos, and let her head rest in the crook on my shoulder, brushing Olivia’s hands off Millie’s belly.
“Tell me when to push,” I said to Dr. Lopez.
Millie inhaled, a sure sign of another contraction. Dr. Lopez gave me a nod. I pressed both hands downward against the hard ball of Millie’s stomach.
She screamed.
I grunted.
Bree slid out.
Dr. Lopez crowed.
Millie slumped back against me, her body trembling. I was shaking, too. Intense. There was no other word for this experience.
“She’s not crying,” Millie whispered.
“Bree?” I asked Dr. Lopez, clutching Millie to my chest.
“Just need to clear her nasal passage…”
The sweetest wail rose above our broken breaths.
“Oh, she’s got a good set of lungs,” Dr. Lopez exclaimed.
“What’s her APGAR?” I asked, biting on my lip.
Dr. Lopez gave me an approving look—like I gave a fuck if she was impressed that I knew that test’s name. I needed to know my daughter had passed it. “Nine. We’ll check her again in a couple of minutes, but she’s strong and healthy. Congratulations, you two!”
“Our girl, sweetheart,” I whispered, kissing Millie’s hairline, her cheek, her neck. “You did it.”
I bet she’d really scored a ten but the doctor didn’t want to tell me that, what with the room for improvement and all. Still, I was sure Bree was a ten in all ways. She was mine and Millie’s kid, so of course she was perfect.
“I want to hold her,” Millie said, her voice shaking.
“After we cut the cord. Dad?” Dr. Lopez handed me a pair of scissors, and Olivia steadied my hand enough for me to cut the umbilical cord.
The nurses huddled around, oohing and ahhing. Dr. Lopez checked her another time, then beamed at me. “A perfect ten APGAR.”
I fucking knew it.
Dr. Lopez laid Bree on Millie’s chest, her tiny body against Millie’s soft, pale skin. Goo covered our baby that caused her dark hair to stick to her tiny skull. Her fingers were long, her nails smaller than anything I’d ever seen. She blinked her blue eyes, frowning at the lights. I cupped my hands over Millie’s, thrilling all over again at the perfection of this moment.
I had a daughter.
Millie loved me.
Life was perfect.
Millie
I’d known Trent would tell my father I was in town, and pregnant.
What I didn’t realize was just how callously my father would make his possession of this knowledge known. I had Bree at my breast—we’d been in the room barely three hours—when a man walked in. He wore an expensive suit and a predatory expression.
“Millicent Jones?”
I remained silent.
“Who’s asking?” Luka demanded.
The man smirked. “I represent Chasten Jones. He asked me to deliver these.”
I clutched Bree, my heart hammering.
“And just what are those?”
The man’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin. I wondered if he’d ever lost a case. Probably not. I shuddered.
“Mr. Jones is seeking custody of his grandchild, considering Ms. Jones’ clear lack of capability.”
Luka vibrated with rage. “That’s my child.”
The attorney shrugged. “Is it, though? Ms. Jones has a…history.”
I didn’t bother to listen to more. I stared down at my baby, my vision going black at the edges.
My father planned to dredge up my high school years. I wasn’t proud of those, but I’d needed a connection. And boys had offered a short-term one.
The smarmy attorney strolled out of the room.
“You had a baby four hours ago, and he thinks now is the time to bring up a custody battle?”
“Welcome to my world,” I said with a long sigh. “This is what I was trying to protect you from.”
Luka considered me for a moment, and I could tell he was working something out in his mind. “I’ll be back.”
He was gone.
“How did your father find out about Bree so quickly?” Ida Jane asked as she sashayed into the room. Keelie followed, her baby bump still in the adorable stage. She took in the room and me before she dropped her packages in a chair and strode toward my bed, peering down at Bree.
“Oh my gosh. She’s tiny! May I hold her?” Keelie’s eyes begged me.
“Of course. She is. And beautiful,” I beamed.
“Adorable,” Ida Jane said, coming to stand next to Keelie, a soft, lovely expression on her face. She’d always wanted kids. Me not so much. We’d both expected her to have a baby first.
Ida Jane pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Did you know there’s a blond nurse out there flirting with the guys—even our guys? Maxim doesn’t like her.”
“Is her name Olivia?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Mmm... She was flirting with Luka while I was in labor.”
We all shook our heads. That was one of the hardest parts of being with a professional athlete. They had constant female attention—and it was like we, their significant others, didn’t exist. Why would women treat other women that way?
“Leave that to me,” Ida Jane called over her shoulder as she twirled around, heading right back out the door.
A shocked gasp followed by, “Oh, hell no!” had me scrambling from the bed.
I’d already wrapped myself in the robe Luka had bought me, so I tottered toward the door, shocked by the ache in my hips and the instability in my legs.
“You go back inside there with Millie,” Ida Jane said to Luka as she glared daggers at Olivia, who seemed to shrink into herself. “I’ll deal with this…this…”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Keelie peeked over my shoulder. Bree nestled in her arms.
“I caught Olivia propositioning—”
“I said no, but she was relentless,” Luka said, his eyes pleading. He was desperate for me to believe he hadn’t stepped into the hall to be with another woman as I recovered from childbirth.
“I should have brought my golf clubs,” Keelie muttered.
Ida Jane continued to speak, telling me about Luka’s hands above his head and his face turned away. I never took my eyes off of Luka. He held my gaze, the love he’d proclaimed for me shining in his eyes and outward, toward me, keeping me warm.
He’d told me before, but I hadn’t believed him. Even when he’d told me earlier today while I was screaming and raging, I’d been sure he was humoring me. But now I was sure.
Luka loved me.
I burst into tears. He moved toward me, and Keelie backed into the room, making shushing noises to the baby.
“Now you’ve done it,” Ida Jane said, her tone dark. “Oh, I am going to unleash—”
“No unleashing those, Fists,” Maxim said, coming up behind Ida Jane. “Cormac and I found the doctor and had a talk with her.”
Dr. Lopez stood between the men, eying Olivia like she was rotted cabbage. Olivia tried to dart away, but for a tiny thing, Ida Jane was quick. Came from having so many brothers.
“I’d never,” Luka began. I clutched his T-shirt, pulling him toward me, needing his warm arms around me as I nuzzled into his chest.
“I know,” I sobbed. “But how rude!”
More hospital staff crowded around. “She showed me pictures of him,” another nurse piped up, pointing to Luka. “That she took in L&D.”
“She what?” Dr. Lopez snarled, stalking toward Olivia like a tiger to its prey. “Well, that’s not just inappropriate, that breaks HIPAA.”
And the pieces clicked. I gasped. Luka looked down at me in concern.
“That’s how he knew, Luka!” I turned toward Dr. Lopez. “I need to know who Olivia shared those pictures with. And if she contacted my father, Chasten Jones.”
Luka’s growl was too soft for anyone but me to hear. His arms tightened around me. “I’m calling my lawyer.”
I tipped my head back and frowned. “You don’t have one.”
“He does now,” Maxim said. He and Cormac glowered at Olivia. “I called Lance Colleson about this.”
“Good,” Luka said. “We’ll have him come to us.” He kissed my temple.
As if you simply requested one of the most sought-after attorneys to make a house call. I guess in this situation, you did. I swayed, and I wasn’t sure if it was from having Bree or from the weirdness that had become my life.
“Until this is sorted, Bree doesn’t leave our sight,” Luka said.
Cruz, who’d just made it to us and held a cup of coffee from the cafeteria in his hand, stepped into the hospital room, no doubt to stand sentry over Bree.
“You really think he’d kidnap a newborn?” Ida Jane asked.
I looked over at Olivia, noting how pale she’d become. “I think that’s exactly what he planned, and I believe we’ll be able to prove it once we get her phone.”
Olivia whimpered, twisting her hands. Maxim and Cormac seemed to puff as their need to protect reared up. They towered over her, their disapproval radiating.
The rest of the staff murmured.
“Show’s over,” Luka said. He clutched me to him as he headed back into our room.
Keelie still held Bree when we entered, her slight frame hunched over our baby while Cruz stood, legs powerful and spread wide, in front of her.
“He’s right. I’ll take Olivia straight to HR,” Dr. Lopez said from behind us. “Where I’ll call the police.” She turned toward her. “Don’t even think about touching your phone.”
Luka edged me toward the bed. There, he cupped my shoulders and bent his knees so we were at eye level.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Too much happened today.” My lower lip quivered. “I want to go home.”
“Soon, sweetheart.” Luka scooped me into his arms and lowered me into the waiting bed. “As soon as you’re cleared, I’ll take you and Bree home.”
When he moved back, I clutched him tighter. “Don’t leave me.”
“Never.” He kissed my forehead and rearranged so he was in the bed with me. “Bree okay?”
“She’s perfect and still asleep,” Keelie said, but she made no move to lay Bree back in the bassinet.
If my friend hadn’t been holding her, I would have snatched her up. But I was so tired. I inhaled as I tried to stop the tremors pulsing through my body. But nothing could shake the chill of just how far my father would go to get his way.
He wanted Bree—except he didn’t care about her. Not at all. He cared about what she represented: billions of dollars. Power. Status.
And I couldn’t let my father near my daughter. I never, ever wanted her to meet the man.
Arriving back at Luka’s apartment the next day was a relief, even as the anxiety—and fear—of being responsible for a tiny, sweet little human overwhelmed me.
I couldn’t care for an infant. I took in the moment, trying to think—that had become harder and harder, even before my father’s full frontal assault on my parental rights to Bree. Warmth spread across my back as Luka wrapped his arms around me and the sleeping bundle I couldn’t seem to let go.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“I am, too.”
I tilted my head up to look into those mesmerizing sherry eyes. “Of what?”
Luka stared down at me for a long moment. Our breathing meshed, and I leaned against him, trusting as I’d trusted no one since my mother’s death, or since Ida Jane came into my life. She’d be over tomorrow to snuggle Bree while I showered or napped or whatever else I was supposed to do. Something else to learn.
“Of failing you. Not being a good father. Of somehow hurting or neglecting her. Your father taking her from us.” His throat seemed to seize, and he made a choked sound.
I inched away from him and laid Bree in the crib. Luka had pushed to finish the room early, and I was so glad now. Because of his motivation, we had a completed nursery to welcome our baby girl into, even though she’d come a month earlier than expected. The sheet was cool, and she looked so tiny, bundled up in her blankets and wearing a cap atop her fuzzy head. The baby doll Luka had bought once I told him I was pregnant sat on the shelf next to a stack of diapers. Our daughter would need more toys, but none would be as special to me as that doll.
The pang I felt melted as I turned, wrapping my arms around Luka. I swayed with him as I had with our baby.
“You’ll be the best daddy,” I said. Again, that noise. His fears ran deep—his demons brought on by disinterest, neglect. Not that different from my own, really. I rolled up on the balls of my feet and kissed his chin. His stubble abraded my lips, but I didn’t mind. “I know that because of how you cared for me—us—in the hospital. By the way you look at her when you hold her. By the way you’ve transformed your condo into a home for her.”
“For you both,” he corrected.
I smiled even as I tightened my arms around him. “For us.”
We were quiet. Bree’s breaths pelted the air like tiny butterflies. I relaxed into the sound because I knew she was close. She was safe.
“Would you marry me, Luka?” I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly that the pressure caused them to ache.
“Are you proposing?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
My breath stuttered. “If I am? I mean…to protect Bree.”
He gathered me closer, dropped his cheek against my hair. “Stop that. Just stop, Millie.”
“S-stop?”
“You don’t have to protect yourself from me. I want what you want: to make sure Bree’s safe. But also to make you happy—to make me happy. So, if you’re asking me to marry you, I’d say yes.”
I blew out a breath and leaned into the fear eddying around me. Luka was the giant boulder keeping the swirling current at bay. Unmovable, stubborn, beautiful man.
I slipped from his arms and dropped to my knees in front of him. He smirked even as he petted my hair back from my now-burning cheeks. I didn’t want him to change. Ever. I loved his mischievousness. I loved his sly innuendo. His stamina. His wonder in us.
“I…” I began, my voice clear in the quiet. The room’s shadows enhanced the bubble effect. It was just us and Bree. She was here for this unplanned but perfect moment. “I love you, Luka. And I want to make you mine. Forever.”
Luka’s gaze softened, and he shifted, as if to settle on his knees, too. I shook my head, planting my palms on his thighs to hold him steady. His grin turned devilish, but his eyes remained full of emotion. He opened his mouth, but again, I shook my head. My heart pounded in the hollow of my chest, blood whooshing in my ears.
I stared up at him, dizzy from nerves. “Will you marry me?” I whispered.
His thick thighs shifted as he dropped down, still towering over me, his palm cradling my skull while the other captured my cheek and chin.
“I’d be so fucking honored. And I’ve been yours, just yours since I sat across from you at that restaurant. You’re mine, Millicent Anne Jones—soon to be Stol. I can’t wait to make it official.”
Instead of kissing me as I expected, Luka leaned back and laughed. It was a deep, joyous sound. He collected me closer, pressing my cheek to his chest.
“I get to be the Bridezilla,” he crowed. “Man, I’m going to love ordering Cruz around.”
