Child of the Chosen One

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"Samuel." I whisper to my sleeping baby. I look down at him as he lays in my arms, seemingly so peaceful. He sucks on his pacifier as I rock him back and forth gently. Being three weeks old, he is not more than twenty pounds. He mostly sleeps and is very quiet when he is awake. I swear, we got the most well behaved baby the world has ever known.

Drew walks into the nursery, a broad smile on his face as he takes in our son and myself on the rocking chair. He grabs me from around the waist and hoists me up so he can take my place and I am not placed on his lap. I lean back against his chest and together we hold our baby boy. "He's perfect." He whispers in my ear. I smile. He really is. However, he has dark black hair when both of his parents have fair hair. I don't think too much into it, though. He is our baby.

"I love you, baby." I coo.

"I love you too." Drew replies. I giggle and shake my head.

"I was talking to the little guy." I tell him, turning my head so my nose is brushing against his cheek, my forehead against his temples. "But I love you as well."

Drew hums in response, giving me a gentle squeeze. I close my eyes, reveling in this very moment. Everything is peaceful and I am with the two people I love most in my life.

"Any word from my mother?" I ask. Since the day I told her to leave for not supporting our decision to have this child, I haven't heard a word from her. It is so unlike her to just drop all contact and connections with me. She has always been close to her children and I didn't think anything could stop that.

"Your father called, asked how the baby was doing." Drew says.

"So that's a no." I get to my feet and place Samuel in his crib. I turn to the door and start to head out when Drew grabs my arm. "I'm tired, Drew." I whisper in agitation. He winds his arms around my waist and places a sweet kiss to my lips.

"Don't be troubled, Cat. You are surrounded by people who love you. You have a husband who will die for you, a baby who adores you." He smiles down at me. "And whether your mother likes it or not, we will have many more children who will adore you." He swoops down and hooks an arm around my knees. I squeal as my feet leave the floor and I am pressed firmly against Drew's chest.

He takes me to the neighboring bedroom where he sets me down on the bed and moves to hover over me.

"Six more." I grin up at him and he leans down to kiss my nose.

"Two more." He whispers.

"I thought you wanted seven children." I question, remembering our vacation in Cancun when we spoke of our family. He wanted seven children.

"You want three." He reminds me. I bite my bottom lip and nod my head. I do want three. I believe three is the perfect number for children, its the perfect size. Having four would be too big of a family.

"Two more it is then."

*

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*

"Samuel, knock it off!" I holler at my nine year old son as he shoves his younger cousin to the ground. Anthony wails as he sits in the dirt, hair wild and cheeks flamed red. I gasp and hurry over, situating the baby Sarah in my arms. "Samuel! What are you thinking?!" I growl, grabbing him by the arm, pulling him away from his cousin.

My son turns on me and gives me a hard shove to the stomach, making me stumble back a few steps. "I hate you! I hate Anthony and I hate this place!" He screams, running into the house. I hold a crying Sarah close as I reach down with my free hand and pick up Anthony.