My LOVE is Forever (Book 4-1st Alternate Ending)

Part 60

June 15, Angel's due date arrives with no indication of labor. Angel and Marcus drop Derik off at my house on the way to the hospital for her induction. "Are you sure?" I ask. "We can follow you to the hospital."

"No, I'm sure. There's no sense in you y'all hanging out there while they get things started," Angel insists.

"I'll call you when we get settled in," Marcus assures me. I smile up at him, somehow he's emitting anticipation and calm at the same time.

"Good luck," I say, pulling Angel in for a hug, then place my hand on her belly. "Don't make us wait too long, Chloe," I whisper, feeling the baby's movement beneath my touch.

Angel rolls her eyes, and looks down, "You need to find the exit, Child."

I laugh, "You'll be holding her before you know it. Now, go, we'll see you guys soon."

After they leave, Derik heads straight to the nursery to unpack his bag, he's so excited that he gets to camp out with Anastasia in her room while he's staying here.

Little did we know how wrong I was going to be when I said those words to Angel this morning. We receive the first call from Marcus in the early afternoon, things are barely progressing and he urges us to maybe catch a nap in case the baby decides to arrive in the wee hours of the night.

"We're coming to visit at least," I tell him, "maybe we'll get lucky."

I check Anastasia's diaper bag, then load her and Derik into the car, and head out to the hospital. When we arrive in the birthing suite, Derik is taken aback by seeing his mother hooked up to the monitors and stops in his tracks. "It's okay," I whisper, "they're just making sure everything is as it should be."

Derik carefully hugs Angel and then she explains what each of the monitors are for. "So, Chloe is okay?" he asks worriedly.

"She's fine," Angel insists, "Just stubborn."

"Like her mama," I tease as I do my best to try to hold a wiggling Anastasia. I kick myself for not bringing her stroller up to the suite with us.

We stay for a couple hours, trying to keep Angel's mind off all the waiting, but with Derik's announcement that he's hungry, we decide to leave. I pat Angel on the shoulder, "We're going to stop for dinner on the way home, but you guys call if things start moving."

"We will," she sighs, "I promise."

Marcus nods in agreement and we make our way out of the hospital and back into the car. We decide to stop at a Cheddar's restaurant near the hospital before driving home. Derik and I both devour our meals in short order, and he waits patiently while I spoon fed Anastasia some sweet potatoes to tide her over until we get home.

The remainder of the evening Derik alternates between watching television and interacting with Anastasia. He's going to be such a good big brother, I think to myself as I watch him with her. The thing that pushed me to tears, though, was when Derik brought out his little guitar and played for her. Anastasia sat and watched him quietly for a few minutes before she started 'singing' along. At six months old, you can hardly call what she did 'singing' but she vocalized with her baby sounds along with his playing the best that she could. Oh, boy, I think, she's going to be a handful.

I decide that bedtime should be early, and Derik readily goes along with my decision. "Just in case your sister decides she's ready early in the morning," I tell him.

"Okay," he says, and proceeds to start getting ready for bed. He's the most accommodating child I've ever had the pleasure of watching.

*******

The next morning I awaken to the sound of Derik talking away to Anastasia in the nursery. A quick glance at the clock shows it's her normal wake time, and I slip from the bed to get ready to start the day. I'm just passing the living room when Derik meets me in the hallway, "Good Morning, Aunt Dana."

Kids are so awake in the morning, and since I'm only used to Anastasia's slow waking, I hesitate. "Good morning, Derik. Did Anastasia wake you?"

"No, I was already up and reading," he smiles before entering the nursery before me. "Has Marcus called?" he asks as he climbs back onto the air mattress.

"Nope, nothing yet," I say as I reach into the crib. Anastasia reaches for me in her usual quiet manner, she usually doesn't start her babbling until after her morning nap. I'm not thrown by the "Marcus" comment, Angel has brought it up to me many times that Derik still calls him that. Derik follows me to the kitchen, and here's where I feel awkward. He has witnessed me nurse Anastasia since she was born, but now that I'm doing my best to wean her, I feel embarrassed to have him see me pump. I slip the pump under my pajama top as discreetly as possible, squeezing the manual getup while Derik entertains Anastasia. "What would you like for breakfast, Derik?" I ask, peeking down into my top to see how much breast milk is in the bottle.

"Cereal is fine," he says matter of factually as he dances one of Anastasia's rattle animals along the edge of her tray.

"I can make you something, it's no trouble," I offer.

"You have to feed Ana," he counters.

"It won't take very long for her to eat some cereal, then she's pretty good on her own with the bottle."

"Is pancakes okay?" he asks, looking hopeful.

"Matter of fact, that sounds delicious," I haven't made pancakes in quite a while, it will be as much a treat for me as for him.

With Anastasia spoon fed and now working on her bottle, I get to work mixing up the pancake batter. Derik gathers some forks and napkins, then finds the maple syrup and butter in the fridge, bringing it all to the table. Anastasia watches intently, taking turns sucking on her bottle and gnawing on the nipple. Ouch, I cringe, this is another reason why we're doing the bottles now.

When we sit and start eating, Derik looks up at me, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I frown since he looks serious.

"Mom said I can call Marcus Dad....but he's not my dad," he hesitates.

I twist my lips in thought, "He kinda is. He loves you, and is there for you. I know for a fact he would do anything he could to make you happy. He helps your mom feed, clothe and care for you, that makes him a dad, even though he may not be your father. Does that make sense?"

"Sort of," his face is contorted in thought. "Mom said my father would always be my father, but he could never be the kind of dad Marcus is."

"She's absolutely right," I reach over and stroke his head playfully. "But you should only call him Dad when, and if, you're ready."

He laughs at me, "Mom said the same thing." Then he whispers, "I think I'm ready."

"I'm happy to hear that, and I know they will be, too. When it feels right, just let it happen, okay?"

"Okay," he says as he takes another bite of his pancake.