The Daughter
Cross POV
“You okay?”
Cross looked up from the sound of his father-in-law’s voice to find Dante had finally arrived at their house. How long had Cross been leaning against the wall in some kind of awful fucking daze he just couldn’t shake?
Hours. It had to be hours.
Cross blinked. “Yeah, I’m just—”
“Tired,” Dante said. “This is a long fucking process, I know.”
Nodding, Cross straightened up, and felt his spine crack. Jesus. That kind of hurt, but it felt good at the same time. How was that even fucking possible?
What a day. A beautiful day. But still …
“Go grab a quick nap,” Dante told him, tipping his head to the side as if to encourage Cross to move. “In the spare bedroom, or something. Cat is downstairs getting some food warmed up that she brought over, so I don’t think Catherine will even notice you’re gone.”
Cross frowned. “I don’t think I should. That wouldn’t be very fair to her, would it?”
Dante cocked a brow. “Listen, you need to sleep, too. Because when that little girl is here, Catherine’s not going to be. This is exhausting—she’s running on adrenaline right now. But once the baby gets here, all that adrenaline goes away, and her mind needs to recharge. Who do you think is going to be left with the task of taking care of the baby?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Go—I’ll cover for you, anyway.”
Cross grinned at the way his father-in-law almost sounded … conspiratorial about Cross taking a fucking nap while Catherine had to labor through the early contractions. She had been laboring for eight hours now—all goddamn night. The birthing classes they took to prepare for this day had told them this portion could take hours, or even a day or two, before it would move onto the next phase when they would recommend she come into the hospital.
Catherine was fine with that. Then, she was going to demand an epidural.
Her plan was clear. Cross saw no issue there. None at all.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” Dante said, jerking his thumb to the side, “this is going to take a while, Cross.”
“All right.”
He could hear the running shower that Catherine had been using as a stress reliever for the last hour even as he slipped into the spare bedroom down the hall from their master bedroom. He didn’t know how long their hot water tank would hold up considering when he went into the bathroom, it seemed like she had it turned up to just below scalding.
But whatever made her happy. Jesus, right now, that was all he cared about. Soon, his little girl would be here. His principessa. Perfect little Cece Catherine. The next Donati girl.
Cross’s head hit the pillow on the spare bed, and he was positive he fell asleep before his eyes even closed fully.
He still felt bad. He should have stayed up. His body was done.
Cross woke up to the sound of beeping. A familiar beep that made him want to curse, and ignore it altogether. It only took him one second of being awake for panic to settle into his chest, and remind him why he shouldn’t be fucking sleeping in the first place.
Catherine. Labor. Shit.
Cross jumped up from the bed, and grabbed his cell phone at the same time—the offending device being the thing that was making all that beeping noise. He checked the screen as he headed out of the spare bedroom.
Any updates? His father.
Another text he missed from Zeke. Is my Goddaughter here yet, or what?
Damn. How long had he been sleeping, anyway?
Cross checked the time on the phone as he took the stairs of their Newport home two at a time. He blinked at the time staring back at him.
He’d only slept a little more than an hour. It felt like way more.
Well, maybe he shouldn’t complain, then.
Cross quickly typed replies back to his father, and Zeke. No news yet to tell, and he would let them know when something changed, but not to hold their breaths.
His foot hit the downstairs hardwood floor, and he hesitated at the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen area. And also, music.
What in the fuc—
“Come on, now,” he heard Catrina say, “don’t give me that look Catherine. I swear this is what your father did for me—worked like a charm, baby.”
“It did,” Dante agreed.
“You really think I want to dance right now, Ma?” Catherine asked, laughing.
“Dancing moves the baby down. Dancing helps. Dancing makes you happy.”
“So dance,” Dante added.
Cross quietly moved down the hall, and poked his head around the kitchen entryway. Sure enough, his very pregnant wife was being slowly cajoled into dancing to a very fast, modern song that he recognized from the radio.
Oh, she loved music. Loved to dance.
He leaned against the entryway, and watched as a beautiful, wide smile bloomed over Catherine’s features as she took her mother’s hands in her own, and began to dance. A quick beat that had her feet moving, and her hips swaying.
God. She was so beautiful.
More so now that she was pregnant with his child, and so full of life. It was amazing how something like this could change a man.
Their whole life had been like that, though. They had always been like that.
Amazing. Breathtaking. Crazy.
Perfect.
Across the room at the table, Dante looked Cross’s way, and gave him a nod. Cross returned it silently. Catherine and Catrina didn’t notice him standing there.
And then …
“Oh, shit,” Catherine breathed.
Her dancing stopped.
He recognized that pained look in her eye just before she grabbed the counter with one hand, and her mother’s wrist with the other. Catrina was down on one knee before her daughter—Cross was pretty sure this was the first time he had ever seen his mother-in-law dressed down with no makeup, and no high heels on.
“Breathe,” Catrina murmured.
“I am,” Catherine whined.
The contractions were clearly stronger.
She’d been fine to walk through them earlier.
Maybe dancing did help.
“I just want … where is—”
He knew what she was going to say before she did it. He crossed the room before she could get the words out.
“Right here, babe,” Cross said.
Catherine let go of the counter, and grabbed hold of Cross instead.
“Could I …?”
Dante’s hands reached for the swaddled bundle of pink that Cross had finally brought out to show their waiting family. He held a little tighter to his daughter—entirely unwilling to let her go just yet.
Little Cece slept peacefully. All cleaned now from birth, and happy as could be. Her puffy cheeks puffed out even more as she sucked on the side of her hand that had somehow broken free of the swaddle.
She had dark eyes like his, though they were closed right now. Dark hair like his, too. But those bow-shaped lips, the shape of her face, and more …
That was all her mother.
And she was perfect.
Oh, so perfect.
“I just, uh …”
“Not quite ready to let her go, son,” Calisto said, chuckling.
Emma grinned beside her husband. “Calisto was the same way with Cam.”
“And Dante, with Catherine,” Catrina added.
Dante gave his wife a look. “I was not.”
“Really, so you didn’t refuse to allow your brothers to hold Catherine when they came to visit. Oh, and your mother, too. Except your father snapped at you, and then you let her hold Catty. I swear, it was cute—”
“That’s enough of that,” Dante grumbled.
Laughter lit up the family waiting room.
Zeke came a little closer, and peered over Cross’s shoulder. “Look at her, man.”
“I know,” Cross murmured.
“She looks like her mother.”
“I know.”
And good God, that in itself was amazing and scary enough. He was holding his whole life in his hands. Every good part of his heart and soul was in this child.
He was not a good man.
He was criminal.
He lived in the gray.
What did he do to deserve the perfection he was holding?
What angel was looking out for him?
Cece made a face, and then those eyelashes of hers started to flutter a bit. Eyelashes for days, really. Her eyes opened, and she locked gazes with her father.
The world stopped turning for a second.
It was like she knew. He could feel it. She knew who he was.
The birthing classes had told them that newborns couldn’t see very well for a while after being born. That their vision needed time to adjust, and most things were cloudy to them.
Cross didn’t know about that. His daughter looked at him like she had been waiting to find her daddy for a long time.
“Hey, principessa,” he murmured. “Look at you, mia bambina. You’re so perfect.”
He teased her little clenched fist with his fingertip, and quickly, she wrapped her whole hand instinctively around his finger. She held tight, even minutes later when Cross handed her off to Dante for the first time.
His mother said he had to.
Still, Cece kept hold of his finger.
“Someone knows who their daddy is,” Dante murmured, gazing between his granddaughter, and Cross. “My God, she looks like her mother.”
“Déjà vu?” Catrina asked.
Dante nodded. “Yeah, Cat. Just like déjà vu.”
He didn’t know what the two were talking about, but the silent look they shared told him not to ask.