Then she loved him again, when it turned out he’d read so many books on the birthing practice he was more than able to coach her through breathing through the worst of her contractions—like a really stern Russian doula who treated her like one of his hockey players. But hey, she had been so counting on the drugs coming through, that she hadn’t even bothered with Lamaze classes. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. She loved him so much.
Then hours passed and she hated him again, because why hadn’t he used a condom? And why did his big ass baby boy have to be taking his sweet time getting here? She hated him. Truly hated him.
Eventually the contractions became too much, and she started crying with snot and everything, babbling on about being so tired and couldn’t they just cut it out of her already? Nikolai climbed into bed behind her, hugging and rocking her back and forth through the pain.
He soothed her and calmed her down, and unlike a particularly unhelpful nurse from earlier, didn’t tell her stories about how women in Japan gave birth quietly and without a lot of drama. In fact, he’d had that nurse replaced with another labor and delivery nurse who tutted with sympathy and patted her hand, telling her what a good job she was doing with a totally straight face, even though they were fourteen hours in and she was a blubbering mess.
She loved Nikolai for that, loved him deeply… until the angel nurse put on a pair of devil horns and told her the baby was crowning and it was time to push.
She shook her head. “No, no, I can’t. I don’t have anything left in me.”
“You must, zhena,” he said behind her.
“No, I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“No, I hate you,” she cried, exhausted and nearing hysteria. “Why did you do this me?”
“Zhena, zhena, listen to me. Do you remember when we went to Greece?”
“The first or the second time?” she asked, thinking of the second trip just a few weeks after school had let out, when they’d taken Pavel, Back Up, and Dirk. They’d stayed for a whole week, tooling around Poros, while Pavel, as promised, had happily played in the pool with Dirk looking on all day.
“The first time,” he answered. “The meal we had. You said it was best one you ever ate. I told Isaac call restaurant as soon as they admitted us here, and he arranged for special delivery.”
“You’re kidding,” she said, shaking her head.
“No, zhena. Five minutes ago, Isaac texted me. He got your meal from airport. It is waiting for you outside this room as soon as you are done.”
“You’re lying,” she said with tears in her eyes. She was so hungry. They hadn’t let her eat anything but ice chips for the last fourteen hours. “You’re telling me whatever it takes to get me to push.”
“I would not lie to you,” he said, his voice quiet but fierce in her ear. “I love you, I love Pavel, I love our dog, Back Up. I am so happy to have you all as my family. It is more than I deserve. But please make me more happy, zhena. Please push and bring us this baby.”
Sam shook her head, wondering how she and Nikolai could be from two opposite countries, two opposite races, and two opposite backgrounds but be so much the same. She blubbered, “I love Pavel. I love Back Up. And I love you, muzehnek. So much.”
Then she bared down.
Less than thirty minutes later, Alexei Joseph Rustanov was placed in her arms, eyes squeezed shut and squalling.
However, he calmed down quickly and with one look, all was forgiven. Something in Sam’s heart fell loose the moment she took him in. Little nose. Ten little fingers and toes. Full lips like his mother and a long straight nose like his father. He was nothing less than…
“Perfect.”
She looked up to see Nikolai standing beside the bed, his eyes suspiciously shiny.
“Do you want to hold him?” she asked.
And for the first time in the last fifteen hours, he actually looked a little afraid.
“Go on,” she said, holding the baby out to him. “It’s all right. You read up on how to do this, right?”
He must have, because he took the baby from her like an expert, cupping his head and bringing him in close.
Then there was no doubt about what that shiny stuff was in his eyes, because the tears really came down then, as he babbled to the baby in Russian, seeming not to care that the OB and two nurses were all watching the tough former hockey player blubber all over his new baby boy.
Sam watched the scene with a smile, the last of her doubts about him, about her, about them, blowing away like dandelion seeds in the wind. Nikolai was truly going to be a great father, a loving father, who Pavel and their son would be proud to call papa. She was sure of it.
Just as she was sure that finally surrendering to the Russian hockey player was the best decision she’d ever made.