Chapter 148
Ryan POV
I couldn't take my eyes off the tiny bundle as the nurse gently lifted Oliver from Evelyn's arms. She smiled reassuringly at us. "I'll just take him for his routine checks. Won't be long."
My heart squeezed watching them go. I'd only been a father for less than an hour, but already the separation anxiety was real. I reached for Evelyn's hand, finding it cold and trembling slightly. Her face was pale with exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, but she'd never looked more beautiful to me.
"Mr. Carter?" The doctor approached, clipboard in hand. "We're going to transfer your wife to a recovery room now. She needs to rest."
I nodded, unable to find my voice for a moment. The reality of what had just happened—Evelyn's early labor, the frantic rush to the hospital, Oliver's safe arrival—it was all catching up to me.
Magnus stepped forward, his usual composure replaced by the anxious energy of a new grandfather. "Doctor, my grandson—is he truly alright? He's nearly a month early."
The doctor smiled, lines crinkling around his eyes. "Everything went smoothly. The natural delivery had no complications, and while Oliver is premature, he's completely healthy. Good weight, strong lungs—you heard those cries." He chuckled. "He's doing excellently for a thirty-two-week baby."
Relief washed through me, and I squeezed Evelyn's hand. She squeezed back weakly, her eyelids drooping.
A nurse arrived with a wheelchair. "Ready to go to your room, Mrs. Carter?"
I helped Evelyn into the wheelchair, supporting her weight as she winced from the movement. "I've got you," I whispered against her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.
The room they'd prepared was small but private, with soft blue walls and a window overlooking the hospital gardens. Room 23. I made a mental note—this was where our son's story truly began.
The nurse helped Evelyn into bed, adjusting pillows behind her back and checking her IV. "You did wonderfully," she said warmly. "If you need anything, just press this button." She demonstrated the call button before discreetly slipping out.
Magnus approached the bed, his eyes misty. "How are you feeling, dear?"
Evelyn attempted a smile, but exhaustion was claiming her quickly. "I'm so tired," she whispered, her hands making slight movements as if she wanted to sign but lacked the energy. "I didn't know it would be that..." Her voice trailed off, eyelids fluttering.
I watched as she fought to stay awake, stubborn even now. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against her forehead. "Sleep, love. You've done the hardest work today. You were amazing."
Her eyes closed at my permission, and within seconds, her breathing deepened into sleep.
"Poor dear," Sophia murmured. "I've arranged for some clothes and food to be brought over. The hospital gowns are dreadful, and she'll need proper meals to recover her strength."
I nodded gratefully. "Thank you. We were just about to have dinner when her water broke. Neither of us has eaten since lunch."
Magnus pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, his eyes never leaving Evelyn's sleeping form. "My little girl," he whispered, more to himself than to us. The tender pride in his voice made my throat tight.
The door burst open, startling us all. Ethan rushed in, arms laden with an enormous white teddy bear and a cluster of metallic blue helium balloons that bumped against the ceiling.
"Where is he? Where's my nephew?" he demanded, eyes bright with excitement.
"Ethan," Winston's stern voice followed him into the room. "Lower your voice. Evelyn is sleeping."
Ethan winced apologetically, setting his gifts in the corner. "Sorry," he whispered dramatically. "I came as soon as I could. I'm an uncle! This is so cool!"
Despite everything, I couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm. Ethan had always been the most genuine of the Finch family, wearing his heart on his sleeve.
"I can't believe I'm an uncle," he continued, dropping into a chair. "Is he cute? Does he look like Evelyn? Please say he looks like Evelyn."
Sophia laughed softly. "He's beautiful, and yes, he favors Evelyn's side."
I felt a wave of gratitude toward my mother for that small kindness—the unspoken acknowledgment that Oliver wasn't biologically mine, but he wasn't Bryce's either, not in the ways that mattered.
The door opened again, and a nurse wheeled in a small transparent bassinet. "Someone's finished his check-up and is ready to meet the family properly," she announced.
My heart stuttered at the sight of my son, wrapped snugly in a blue blanket, his tiny face scrunched in sleep.
Magnus was the first to move, approaching the bassinet with reverent steps. The nurse smiled and carefully lifted Oliver, placing him in Magnus's waiting arms.
"Well, you little troublemaker," Magnus murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You look more like your mother's side of the family." He glanced up at me, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.
Ethan crowded close, phone already out to take pictures. "Hey, Oliver," he cooed. "I'm your Uncle Ethan. We're going to have so much fun when you're bigger."
Winston approached next, his usual stern demeanor softened as he gazed at his grandson. With gentle hands, he took Oliver from Magnus and carried him to Evelyn. The movement roused her, and her eyes fluttered open.
"Oliver," she whispered, arms reaching instinctively.
Winston carefully placed the baby in her arms. "He's perfect, Evelyn," he said softly. "You did well."
Evelyn's eyes filled with tears as she looked down at our son. I moved to sit beside her on the bed, reaching out to touch Oliver's tiny hand. His fingers reflexively curled around mine, and something profound shifted in my chest. This was my son. Not by blood, but by choice, by love, by the promise I'd made to both him and Evelyn.
Eric, standing near the doorway, cleared his throat. "That boy is going to be the luckiest kid in the world," he said. "Three grandfathers who already adore him."
I looked up to see my father smiling at Magnus and Winston, an unlikely trio united by their love for one tiny human.
A nurse returned with a small bottle. "Time for his first feeding," she said, handing it to Evelyn. "Would you like to try?"
Evelyn nodded, and I helped her position Oliver. He latched onto the bottle immediately, his eyes drifting closed as he drank.
I couldn't resist taking out my phone, capturing this moment—Evelyn's tired but radiant face, Oliver's peaceful expression as he fed. This was our beginning, the three of us.
The door opened again, and Johnson, the Carters' longtime butler, entered carrying bags of food and clothing. "Mr. and Mrs. Carter asked me to deliver these," he said, setting them down. "Congratulations, sir, madam."
The room felt full—not just with people, but with emotion, with new connections forming and old ones strengthening. As the evening wore on, we passed Oliver between us, taking turns holding him, marveling at his perfect fingers and the tuft of dark hair that crowned his head.
Eventually, Winston turned to Ethan, his expression thoughtful. "Son, I think tomorrow you should go see Bryce. Tell him Evelyn has had the baby."
Ethan looked surprised. "Are you sure? Evelyn might not want to see him again."
Winston nodded firmly. "Regardless, he should know. Take a picture of Oliver to show him."
Ethan agreed, pulling out his phone to review the photos he'd taken earlier.
I hesitated, almost saying that Evelyn had already spoken with Bryce, that they'd reached a kind of closure. But selfishness kept me silent. Some part of me wasn't ready to acknowledge Bryce's place in our son's life, even peripherally.