Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Now?” he shouted.
“Now!” I shouted back, pointing to my belly.
The people surrounding us laughed as Joe spun around and skated faster than he ever had toward the locker room, ditching his helmet and gloves and shirt along the way. A guy wearing a Lupo jersey offered to help Anna herd me up the steps, and people were kind enough to move out of the way.
Joe and I were reunited in the family lounge, and I could tell he’d taken the fastest shower of his life. His hair was wet and there were damp spots on his shirt and jeans, like he hadn’t even bothered to use a towel, he’d just jumped right into his clothes. Even his shoes were untied. He swept me into his arms and held me close, and I burst into tears, overwhelmed by it all.
“You did it,” I wept, clinging tight. “You won!”
“I don’t even care. I can’t think about hockey right now,” he said. “I knew I was right to be worried!”
I laughed through my tears as we moved toward the exit. “You were,” I admitted. “So now just get me to the hospital before our son is born next to a locker room. He’ll spend enough time in one later.”
“Or not,” Joe said. “He doesn’t have to play hockey. He can do anything he wants.”
I leaned against him in gratitude, in relief, in awe that he was mine.
By early the next morning, Domenico Buckley Lupo had made his entrance into the world. Joe held my hand the entire time, just as calm, steady, and reassuring as he had been when I’d thought that plane was going down. His voice was a constant source of strength when I was scared or exhausted or in pain. He told me over and over again how much he loved me, how amazing I was, how proud he was.
Only when we heard our baby cry for the first time, and they placed him on my belly did Joe break down, tears leaking silently from his blue eyes.
“Oh. God. He’s perfect. He’s beautiful.” He wiped his eyes on the hospital gown he wore. “Do you think he looks like a Nicky?”
“I do,” I said, even though he had the pinched, wrinkly old-man look of all newborns. But once he had his first bath, Joe brought him over to me, all wrapped up in a soft flannel blanket. Then we could see the big blue eyes, the dark hair, the precious little dimple on his chin.
Seeing Joe hold our son in the crook of his arm, the look of pure love on his face, made my heart ache in the best way. I took a video while he changed his first diaper, his huge hockey player hands struggling with the tiny tabs. It was almost as adorable as watching him rock the baby in the chair by the window. I dozed off, and when I woke up, I heard Joe talking to the baby.
“And then,” he said softly, “I picked up the puck mid-ice and skated it down. I knew it was kind of a crazy shot to take, but I didn’t even hesitate. And you know what? It went in. I’ll teach you how to do it someday.”
Later that afternoon, Joe’s parents arrived. When they heard the name we’d chosen, they both cried. Nick embraced me carefully and kissed my cheek, saying he was honored beyond belief. Coco held me close and whispered how much this meant to them both. As I watched Joe hug his dad, my throat grew unbearably tight.
“You’ll be a great father,” Nick said. “I’m so proud of you.”
My dad and Julia also came, bringing a massively huge teddy bear into the room. “That big bear is from all your Buckley cousins up north,” my dad said as he rocked the baby, while Julia peeked over his shoulder. “They can’t wait to meet you.”
“Everyone sends their love,” said Julia. “I’m supposed to give you at least twenty hugs.”
“I feel it,” I said, worn out but happy.
Joe spent the night in a pull-out chair in my hospital room, even though I told him he didn’t have to. He only left the hospital once, to feed Cleo and pick up the little bag I’d packed with a change of clothes for me and pajamas for the baby. He had three days’ paternity leave, and he said he didn’t want to waste a single minute of it apart from us.
The doctor cleared me to go home the following afternoon, and by six o’clock that evening, I was nursing our son in the rocking chair in his bedroom while Joe cooked spaghetti for us. Afterward, I snuck in a shower, and when I came out, I discovered him sitting on the couch with Nicky sleeping on his bare chest.
“My book said this is important so he bonds with me too,” he said softly.