mine {h.s.} | {b3}

CHAPTER NINE

— CHAPTER NINE —

february, year one.

When Harry returns he brings Ruth and Fitzy in tow beside him.

Ruth stops in the doorway. She's been here all night. Earlier in the evening I'd been told that she'd been popping by when she could in between surgeries. Standing in the doorway now, her dark scrubs cling to her body in awkward ways and she looks utterly tired. Tears are springing in her honey-colored eyes, a hand covering her lips as she stares at me. There's a sort of disbelief in her eyes—almost as though she had never believed that we would make it to this moment. I hadn't either. I hadn't let myself hope.

For the first time in my life, I see Fitzy as a bumbling, awkward force. A man who stands well above six foot two now stands hunched into himself, as though he is uncertain what to do with his long, muscular limbs—like this is the first time that he has ever considered how terrifying the sheer size of him may be. He stands just behind Ruth and she wraps a hesitant arm around her waist. As much, it appears, for comfort as it is for stability.

Edie is in my arms. Her eyes are shut again and her face is nestled right into my breast. Skin to skin between a baby and the mother and father is important. I know that. Though, I can't fight the feeling—as much as I want to—that Fitzy and Ruth are just an extended part of that circle. "Would you like to hold her?" I say softly, trying not to disturb her peaceful form.

She's so soft in my hands and I hate the fact that I am willingly going to give her up. I would hold her here, in my arms, forever if I could. If that were an option. Sadly, I know that it's not.

Fitzy crosses the room first. He moves towards me in two long strides. Ruth follows on his heels just a step behind. Only then do I notice the balloons. Fitzy spent the night here. Ever since he came with our baby bag, he's been sitting in the waiting room. Throughout labor consistent messages were delivered of his best wishes for me. I know that it pained him being so helpless. Apparently, to counteract such feelings, he had gone down to the gift shop, and bought balloons.

The set held tightly in his right hand now is an overwhelming surplus of pink balloons with the excited proclamation IT'S A GIRL written all over them. Sitting beside the door is a discarded wad of blue balloons, revealing the IT'S A BOY declaration in the same. "Thanks, mate," Harry says, rounding to take the balloons from Fitzy. He adds them to the pile that sits in the corner of the room. Already I have plans on releasing the air and keeping a couple, just to remember this day for the rest of our lives.

"Can I?" Fitzy asks, nervously, his hands shaking as they extend towards me and Edie.

I nod my head, gently moving as much as I can to help in the transition between our arms. She barely stirs, but opens her blue, blue eyes to look up at Fitzy curiously for just a moment. He's looking down at her with that same sense of awed admiration. Cupping her with one hand, he uses the other to run his fingers over her features—her button nose and her drooping eyelids. "I'm yer uncle Tavish, but ye can call me Fitzy if ye like. I dinna care overmuch. And what's your name, mo leanbh?" Fitzy's eyes turn upwards towards Harry and I, looking expectantly. [Scots Gaelic: My child]

"Edie," I fill in the blank. "Edie Ruth Styles."

Ruth freezes behind him, the implication of her name setting in. Fitzy doesn't stop though, he just nestles himself closer. He brings Edie up towards his lips and presses a sweet kiss against her forehead. "Ye, Edie Ruth Styles, have my whole heart. Ye ken tha'? Yer Uncle Tavish is wrapped around yer wee little finger, and ye had to do no but a thing."

"Ruth?" Ruth finally says then, stepping up closer to Edie and Fitzy. Fitzy opens his stance and gives Ruth a clear view of the baby that had taken her middle name from her.