Chapter 165: 165
WREN
I wake up from the scorching pain reverberating in my stomach.
My first thought is, Well, this is bullshit.
I mean, it’s bad enough that I died during childbirth. Why the hell am I still in pain? Shouldn’t I be floating somewhere on a magical cloud? Or getting ready to meet my maker? Or being reunited with Rose and Bee?
To be fair, Bee had made an appearance. It was suitably dramatic, yet strangely underwhelming at the same time. As my memory serves, she came in on an elevator, not a chariot flown by unicorns, and she was wearing a blue cotton jumpsuit, whereas I would’ve expected ethereal white robes and a halo. Or at least—
Aaaarghhh!
More pain. Like I said, this is total bullshit. Death is supposed to free you from the tribulations of mortal suffering.
More to the point: if I died in childbirth, then why the hell does it feel like I’m still giving birth?
“Wren…”
Ooh, is that God? I always knew He was a She. Which would be so much more awesome a discovery if I didn’t have to die to discover it.
“Wren!”
“Be patient with her. Her body’s going through a lot. Just give her time.”
Is that… Dr. Liza? Last I checked, she was still a member of the living world. Which means either she’s dead, too…
Or I’m not as dead as I think I am.
“Wren, it’s okay; I’m right here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
That voice makes no damn sense to me. But I’m guessing solving the mystery is going to require some sight. So, with a groan, I blink my eyes open and promptly cringe against the blinding fluorescents.
Surely heaven has no room for fluorescent lighting. That shit belongs in the depths of hell.
“Hey, you. Good to see ya.” Bee’s face blocks out the lights on the ceiling, creating an eerie halo around her head.
“B-Bee?”
“I know it’s a shock to see me here—”
“You’re supposed to be dead?” I feel a squeeze on my arm. “Or… am I the one that’s dead?”
“No one’s dead!” Bee laughs. “You’re alive. I’m alive. We’re all alive up in this joint.”
I pull my arm out from underneath hers. “But… but… how?!”
Her gaze flickers to Liza helplessly for a moment. “Do you wanna maybe do the whole explanation part after you have your baby?”
“No!” I bark at her. “Unless you wanna be kicked out of this room in five seconds, start talking.”
She smirks and pats my hair. “I missed all that feistiness.”
“Bee!”
She holds up her hands. “Okay, okay. Very long story turned very short: my funeral was a hoax, my death was faked, and I went into hiding in the upstairs penthouse.” She grins down at me awkwardly, waves some even more awkward jazz hands, and adds, “Surprise!”
I blink.
I stare.
I blink.
I stare.
And then I say, “I swear to God, if I weren’t in labor right now, I’d fucking kill you.”
She titters uncomfortably. “Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“I just can’t—” But another contraction swallows up my words before I can spit them at her.
Bee jumps back to my side and clutches my arm. “It’s okay, hon. I’m here. We’re gonna do this together.”
“B-but Dmitri… H-he should be here for this…”
“I know. I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as he can. Until then, consider me his representative.”
“So he knew you were alive this whole time?” I gasp between breaths.
“Uh, maybe we should talk details after—”
“Bee!”
“Yes, he knew,” she sighs reluctantly. “And honestly, I don’t know why he decided to keep this from you. But I’m sure he had his reasons.”
So it was his decision. Somehow, that hurts more than these fucking contractions do.
“Okay, Wren,” Liza announces, coming into my line of vision with an enthusiastic clap. “I know you’ve got a lot going on right now, but this baby is ready to be born. So we’re gonna have to table this conversation for later.”
My protest disappears underneath a scream. Yup, the baby’s definitely coming.
Bee squeezes my forearm and looks me in the eye. “Hold on as tight as you want. I can take it.”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “I’ve heard that about ghosts.”
She chuckles. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“Aargh!”
“Screaming’s not gonna help, Wren,” Liza informs me from between my legs, both of which are being held up by thick, ugly stirrups. “Just breathe and push. He’s crowning.”
Have I been given an epidural? Is it really time? Am I ready to be a mother?
Considering how impatient I’ve been the last few weeks of my pregnancy, it’s ironic the questions stampeding through my head right now. But as the pressure builds deep inside me, I know there’s no waiting any longer. Not even for my husband.
“He’s coming!” Liza announces in a steady voice.
I give one final push that almost sucks the last bits of life out of me—and then suddenly, my ears are bursting with the sound of his cries. Loud and strong and angry. “Oh my God,” I murmur over and over again. Or maybe that’s Bee who’s talking? I laugh through my tears at the sheer ludicrousness of having my baby with Bee at my side.
Life sure is a bitch. But sometimes, sometimes, she’s a nice bitch.
“Where is he?” I cry out, trying to see through the blurry veil of my tears. I know he’s around because he’s still screaming bloody murder.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be with you in a second,” Dr. Liza assures me. “Just getting him cleaned up here.”
Then Bee steps to the side and a little blue bundle is placed into my arms. I stare down at the little creature swaddled in the warm blanket and I feel my chest expand in a new direction, one I didn’t know existed until just now.
“Hi, sweetness,” I whisper to him, grazing his cheek with my fingertips. “I recognize you.”
“Wow,” Bee breathes from my shoulder. “He looks just like his papa.”
His papa. That word is heavy with emotion for me. I feel joy and relief, but I also feel sadness. And a deep-seated sense of betrayal.
Because despite all his promises, despite all his assurances, despite all his vows—he lied to me.
Again.