Chasing Castles (Finding Focus #2) (28 page)

“Yeah,” I say, unable to keep from admiring his beautiful eyes and the dimple in his cheek when he smiles down at me.

“You scared?” A look of concern takes over the smile as his eyebrows furrow.

“No,” I say confidently. “I’m not. Just ready for this baby to be here.”

“Good.” He goes back to the easy smile as if he was waiting to find out how I felt before he could decide how to feel himself. “I’m gonna go get Mama. She’s down in the waiting room with everybody, but she said to tell her when it was gettin’ time.”

“Okay,” I tell him, hating it when he stops touching me. I’d ask him to stay, but that’d probably be a little weird.

“You’re gonna do awesome,” he says.

It makes me giggle because he sounds like he’s giving a pep talk for a big game.

“Thanks, coach.”

Annie comes back in, looking refreshed and happy. She always manages to be a pillar of strength in any situation. It’s one of the many things I admire about her.

“Ready to have this baby?” she asks.

“So ready,” I tell her, hearing the fatigue in my voice, but as she grips my hands, it’s like some of her strength is transferred to me and I feel like I can do this.

Less than an hour later, my feet are in stirrups, and Annie’s hand is planted firmly in mine.

“Push on three,” the doctor says.

I squeeze Annie’s hand while she pats down my forehead with a wet cloth.

“One, two, push,” the doctor instructs and I do. I push with everything in me until I scream out in pain and determination.

“One more time, Cami,” he assures me. “You’re doing great.”

I pant and catch my breath, gripping my knee with my free hand.

“One, two, push,” he says once more.

At the end of the longest push of my life, a crying baby congratulates me on a job well done.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor says happily.

“Ten toes and ten fingers,” the nurse adds.

I look up to Annie, who is looking from me to the bundle of baby and back to me with tears in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, kissing my forehead.

The nurse brings the baby and lays him on my chest, and I feel like my heart is now living outside of my body.

He’s perfect.

He’s everything good in this world.

After they clean me up a little and my bundle is back in my arms; I ask to see my family. All of them. I want them here to witness this moment with me, because if it wasn’t for each one of them, I’m not sure I would’ve had the strength to get to this point.

I watch as each of them walks into the room, one by one. Their eyes grow wide, but no one speaks. Each of them moves around the bed until they’re standing in a semi-circle looking down at the baby in my arms with awe and adoration.

My eyes land on Deacon, and I watch as he rubs his palms roughly across his eyes. The look on his face, the way he’s taking in my sweet baby, I know, deep down in my soul, that he’ll always be there for him, just like he’s always been there for me.

They all will.

It’s all I could ask for.

Except for my mama. I feel her in this room. I know she’s looking down on me and this little bundle in my arms, but I wish she was physically here. I feel like I need her more right this moment than I have in the past sixteen years. Leaning in, I kiss the soft sweet skin of my baby boy’s head and breathe him in, silently promising to love him every day of his life.

This is what love at first sight must feel like.

The second he came into this world, my heart followed him.

“What’s his name?” my daddy asks, emotion thick in his voice.

“Carter Matthew Benoit,” I say confidently, looking down at his matted-down hair and his cherub cheeks. He cracks an eye open at the sound of his name and lets out a grunt.

“I think that’s his stamp of approval,” my brother says, reaching down and touching his little arm that flails up out of the blanket.

“Carter for my mama . . . ,” I begin. My mama’s maiden name was Carter—Jessie Anne Carter. “And Matthew for daddy and Tucker,” I tell them, looking up at both of them with tears of joy in my eyes.

“I think it’s the best damn name ever,” Deacon adds.

“Language, Deacon,” Annie chides as she wipes her eyes and nose, never taking her eyes off the baby.

“He’s perfect,” Micah says, leaning over to get a better look. “A little football player in the making.”

“Baseball,” Sam corrects. “I need a baseball player.”

We all laugh . . . and cry.

And as I sit there, with my baby in my arms, I look down at him and hope he feels this much love every day of his life.

Deacon

Present

“HEY.” CAMI’S VOICE IS SOFT
and soothing, just like her hand stroking my arm.

“Hey.” I can’t help but smile. Her beautiful face is all I want to see every time I wake up.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I think I’ve slept enough for a week.”

“Not even,” she says with a light laugh. “The doctor says your body is still healing. You need all the sleep you can get. Don’t stay awake on my account. I’m perfectly happy watching you sleep.”

The smile on her face is happy, but I can still see the worry. Her eyes look tired, and even though she’s still as gorgeous as ever, I see the effects of the day. Her hair is a little unruly, and she’s still in the clothes she normally wears when she paints. It’s obvious that she left the gallery and ran to Pockets. That’s when it dawns on me again how scared she must’ve been.

“What is it?” she asks. “Are you in pain? Does somethin’ hurt?”

I shake my head.

“Then why the frown?” Her hand reaches up to my face, and she gently rubs her thumb between my eyes, making me relax.

“You were probably really scared.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. I can’t imagine if I had been in Cami’s shoes. If I was the one who drove up on a scene like that. How would I have felt if it was her life on the line? “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She gets up from the chair beside my bed and crawls in beside me, burrowing into my side. When her arms are wrapped around my waist, she lets out a deep sigh.

“You wanna talk about it?” I ask.

“I just knew I couldn’t lose you. I feel like it’s taken us so long to get here, and all I could think was that I couldn’t lose you now. I wouldn’t.”

Her voice is so determined that I believe her. I believe Cami’s sheer determination was enough to keep me alive.

“You still want to marry me?” I ask, teasing and trying to lighten the mood a little. There’s been too much heavy for one day. Actually, there’s been enough to last a long time.

Her hold on me tightens. “I want to marry you even more than I did yesterday and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I’m glad. I’d marry you tonight if Father Damon were available.”

Cami laughs. “Your mama would kill us.”

“And Kay.”

“Yes, and Kay.”

We lay there for a few minutes just holding each other. I’m glad it’s my leg that’s banged up and not my hands or arms.

“When the doctor finally came out to talk to us,” she starts, her voice low as her fingers trace circles on my chest, “he asked for the Landry family, and it dawned on me that I legally wasn’t a part of your family. I want to be attached to you in every way possible. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.”

“I
am
yours. I always have been.” I kiss the top of her head and breathe in her familiar sweet scent.

“I want Carter to be yours too,” she says softly.

“I want that too. Next to marryin’ you, there’s nothing I want more.”

“One week,” she sighs.

“One week.”

In one week, Cami will be a Landry, and I’ll be the happiest man on the planet.

Deacon

Past

SUNDAY MORNINGS AT GRINDERS ARE
my favorite.

The restaurant is closed, but Micah and I still come in and work. Saturday nights are always crazy here, especially now that LSU football season is upon us, so we like to come in on Sundays to make sure everything is cleaned and restocked for when we open for lunch on Monday. It also gives us a chance to catch up on our paperwork in relative peace, which is practically impossible to do during the week.

Other restaurant owners I know around town told me I was crazy for keeping Grinders closed on Sundays, but that wasn’t an option for Micah and me. We were raised believing Sundays are for the three big F’s: Faith, Family, and Football, and even though we spend most of our time in Baton Rouge now, we’re still expected to come home for church, lunch, and the game, as often as we can.

I’m in the office looking over the staff’s timesheets when Micah sticks his head in.

“Hey, Janie is at the door. You want me to let her in?”

Even though Janie and I have been together for a few years now, she knows I don’t like to be bothered by anyone when I’m in the office on Sunday mornings. I glance down at my phone and see that I’ve missed a few texts from her, warning me that she’s on her way.

“Nah, I’ll go talk to her,” I say, getting up and stretching my arms over my head. “I could use a little break anyway.”

Micah knows that my relationship with Janie hasn’t been going well for a while now, and I appreciate him asking before allowing her in, even though I know she’ll be pissed about it.

Micah goes back to restocking the bar while I unlock the door for Janie. She flashes me a glare before breezing past me and heading straight for the office.

Well, this should be fun.

“I don’t know why you make me stand outside and wait every time I want to drop by. It’s like I have to answer three riddles before the troll under the bridge lets me in,” she pouts, sitting on the edge of the wooden desk.

“Who, exactly, is the troll in this scenario, me or Micah?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “You know what I mean, Deacon. I’m your girlfriend; it shouldn’t take an act of Congress to see you.”

I rub my hands over my eyes, feeling completely drained. It’s too early for this shit.

“You know Sundays are my time to catch up on everything here at work. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of it today.”

“Believe me; I know how important your Sundays are.” She crosses her arms over her chest and juts out her chin. “Lemme guess, when you’re done here, you’re going to go to your parents’ house and watch football, right? And, then what? Have dessert with Cami? I know you can’t leave French Settlement without seeing her. So, I guess the reason I’m making such a big deal about it is that I’m wondering when is it my turn? When do I get to spend time with my boyfriend?”