Chapter 11 - THE DAY THEIR DAUGHTER CAME EARLY
Naomi made it to thirty-six weeks.
Adrian considered this a personal victory despite having no biological control over the process.
Dr. Warren repeatedly explained that babies did not recognize corporate schedules.
Adrian remained skeptical.
By December, Chicago was buried beneath snow.
Vale Maritime had survived.
Barely.
The company was smaller.
Several terminals were sold.
Illegal freight partnerships were gone.
Three executives had resigned.
Federal investigators continued reviewing Adrian’s past decisions.
No promise had been made about charges.
Adrian accepted that.
Naomi noticed something important.
He no longer asked Dante for updates every ten minutes.
He no longer kept three phones on the table during dinner.
He went to therapy every Tuesday.
He attended parenting classes.
The first class terrified him more than Victor Salerno.
The instructor handed him a plastic baby doll.
Adrian held it like an unexploded device.
Naomi laughed until she cried.
“It has a neck.”
“I’m aware.”
“You are not supporting it.”
“I am supporting everything.”
“Not the neck.”
“This object is badly designed.”
“It is a baby.”
“It is plastic.”
“You’re hopeless.”
He looked at her.
“Good thing I have a co-parent.”
The word mattered.
Not wife.
Not mine.
Co-parent.
Naomi smiled.
“Yes.”
They were dating again.
Nobody officially announced it.
Their first date after the divorce happened at a neighborhood Italian restaurant with no private room and a waiter who had no idea who Adrian was.
Naomi chose the place.
Adrian arrived early.
He stayed off his phone.
They talked.
Actually talked.
He told her about Sofia.
She told him about being terrified after her mother’s cancer diagnosis.
He admitted he hated sleeping alone.
She admitted she sometimes wore his old college sweatshirt because it still smelled faintly like his cedar cologne.
The second date ended with a kiss.
Slow.
Careful.
Naomi cried afterward.
So did Adrian, though he denied it.
At thirty-five weeks, Naomi allowed him to move a toothbrush into her apartment.
One toothbrush.
Adrian acted as though he had been granted territorial sovereignty.
She threatened to remove it.
He became appropriately humble.
Then, at 2:07 a.m. on a snowy Sunday, Naomi woke to wet sheets.
She sat up.
Stared.
Then whispered,
“Oh.”
Adrian slept beside her.
Not officially living there.
He had stayed because snow made driving back to the lake house ridiculous.
Naomi touched his shoulder.
“Adrian.”
Nothing.
The feared shipping boss slept deeply.
“Adrian.”
He opened one eye.
“What?”
“I think my water broke.”
He sat upright so fast he nearly hit the headboard.
“What?”
“My water.”
He stared at the bed.
Then at her.
Then at her stomach.
“Now?”
Naomi laughed.
“No, next Thursday.”
He was already reaching for his phone.
“Hospital.”
“Yes.”
“Bag.”
“Closet.”
“Dante.”
“No convoy.”
“Naomi.”
“Adrian.”
He stopped.
Breathed.
“One vehicle.”
“Fine.”
He called Dante.
Then stood in the center of the bedroom.
And did nothing.
Naomi stared.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
She began laughing.
“This is not funny.”
“It is extremely funny.”
“I have prepared for this.”
“You made three binders.”
“I know.”
“Where are they?”
Adrian looked around.
Naomi laughed harder.
Then a contraction started.
The laughter disappeared.
She gripped the bed.
Adrian’s face changed.
He knelt immediately.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“Not correctly.”
She glared.
“Do you want to have this baby?”
“No.”
“Then stop coaching.”
He shut his mouth.
At 2:38, they left for St. Catherine’s.
Snow fell heavily.
The drive normally took twenty minutes.
It took forty-two.
Adrian called the hospital three times.
Naomi finally took his phone away.
“You are making them nervous.”
“I’m making sure they’re ready.”
“They deliver babies every day.”
“Not this one.”
Despite pain, Naomi smiled.
At the hospital, labor progressed quickly.
Too quickly for Adrian.
Not quickly enough for Naomi.
By seven in the morning, she wanted to murder him for breathing loudly.
At eight, she cried because he stopped touching her.
At nine, she apologized.
At nine-oh-two, she yelled at him again.
Dr. Warren whispered,
“This is normal.”
Adrian looked unconvinced.
At 10:16, Naomi began pushing.
Adrian stood beside her.
No suit.
Hospital scrubs.
Hair disordered.
Eyes terrified.
Naomi squeezed his hand hard enough to bruise.
“Do not ever get me pregnant again.”
He nodded immediately.
“Never.”
Dr. Warren laughed.
“Don’t make permanent promises during labor.”
Naomi yelled.
Nobody laughed anymore.
Then something changed.
The monitor.
A nurse moved closer.
Dr. Warren’s expression sharpened.
Adrian saw it.
“What?”
“Baby’s heart rate dipped.”
Naomi froze.
“What?”
“It recovered.”
Dr. Warren remained calm.
“We’re watching.”
Another contraction.
Another dip.
This one longer.
Adrian’s face went white.
Naomi looked at him.
He could not hide fear.
For once, she did not need him to.
She reached for his face.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“She’s okay.”
He nodded.
“You’re okay.”
He nodded again.
“Stay.”
“I’m here.”
That sentence.
The one she had wanted for three years.
Not I’ll fix it.
Not I’ll protect you.
Not I’ll send someone.
I’m here.
Naomi pushed again.
At 10:42 a.m., their daughter was born.
For one terrible second, there was silence.
Adrian stopped breathing.
Then the baby screamed.
Loud.
Angry.
Perfect.
Naomi sobbed.
Adrian covered his face.
Dr. Warren smiled.
“Healthy baby girl.”
They placed the child on Naomi’s chest.
Tiny.
Red.
Dark hair plastered to her head.
Furious at existence.
Naomi laughed and cried.
Adrian stood frozen.
She looked at him.
“Come here.”
He did.
Slowly.
As if approaching something holy.
Their daughter opened her eyes briefly.
Adrian broke.
No controlled tear.
No silent emotion.
He cried.
Completely.
Naomi had never seen him like that.
“Hi,” he whispered.
His finger touched the baby’s tiny hand.
She closed her fist around it.
Adrian laughed through tears.
Naomi watched.
“What do you think?”
He could barely speak.
“She’s…”
He stopped.
Naomi smiled.
“Try again.”
“Everything.”
Her own tears returned.
Hours later, when the room was quiet, Adrian sat beside the window holding their sleeping daughter.
He had finally learned how to support the neck.
Naomi watched him.
“What name?”
He looked down.
“We never decided.”
“We have one.”
He frowned.
“We do?”
Naomi smiled.
“Evelyn Sofia.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
Her mother.
His mother.
Both women.
Both gone.
Both still here.
His eyes filled.
“Naomi.”
“You like it?”
He looked toward her.
“I love it.”
“Evelyn Sofia Bennett.”
He froze.
Naomi waited.
Adrian looked down.
Then smiled.
“That’s beautiful.”
No pain.
No demand for Vale.
No argument.
Naomi’s heart cracked open.
“She could also be Evelyn Sofia Vale.”
His eyes snapped toward her.
Naomi continued.
“Or Bennett-Vale.”
He stared.
“I thought—”
“I haven’t decided.”
He nodded.
“Then we wait.”
Naomi smiled.
“You really have changed.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m shocked daily.”
He looked down at Evelyn.
Then his phone vibrated on the table.
Dante.
Adrian ignored it.
The phone stopped.
Rang again.
Naomi’s smile faded.
“Answer.”
He did.
Dante’s voice was low.
“Adrian.”
“What?”
“Victor Salerno was attacked during transport this morning.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
A pause.
“But before they moved him to surgery, he gave the investigators one name.”
Adrian stared toward the snow outside.
“What name?”
Dante answered.
“Michael Vale.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
Naomi looked at him.
Michael.
His cousin.
His closest remaining family.
The man who had stood beside Adrian at his father’s funeral.
The man who had visited Naomi after her mother died.
The man who had never once appeared anywhere in Eleanor’s financial records.
Adrian whispered,
“No.”
Dante’s voice remained grim.
“Victor says Michael was above him.”
The hospital room seemed to become colder.
Naomi looked at Evelyn sleeping peacefully in Adrian’s arms.
They had spent months tearing apart the hidden empire beneath Vale Maritime.
Apparently one piece remained.
May you like
And it carried Adrian’s own name.
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