His Mafia Prince
Chapter 291: Irish Luck

Chapter 291: Irish Luck

{WESLEY}

I reach for Jericho’s hand, wanting to comfort him, but also craving his support. His warm hand curls around mine, and I instantly feel better. My alpha can calm me with just his touch.

Dr. Martinez gently palpates my abdomen. He explains that by doing that, he’s feeling the baby’s position and size. His touch is firm but gentle, providing both assessment and comfort.

"Baby is in a good position," he says. "Now I’m going to check how far along you are as far as your dilation." With gloved hands, he performs an examination, his expression focused and professional.

"You’re definitely in active labor, Wesley. You’re about five centimeters dilated and progressing well. Let’s keep monitoring you and see how things go."

"Okay," I say quietly, wincing as another contraction begins. The doctor leaves the room to go check on other omegas in labor, and the nurses quietly move around the room, getting everything ready for what is to come. Jericho stays beside me, stroking my hair and speaking quietly to me.

Jericho is calmer now that we’re at the hospital. I suppose it would be terrifying to know nothing about baby birthing, but be the only other person there with the person in labor. He must have felt terrified that he would have to possibly deliver the baby if things moved too quickly.

"I love you so much," I say, looking up at him. "I can’t believe this is happening. I never thought I’d see the inside of a labor delivery room." I look around, taking in the sights and sounds of the room. It’s surreal to be about to give birth to our baby.

He smiles down at me. "I knew those doctors were wrong. Our child was fated to be born." He kisses my sweaty forehead. "You’re doing so well, Wesley. You’re so much braver than I’d be."

I give a weak smile. "I wouldn’t say I’m brave. I’m scared to death."

"You hide it well."

I lay my head back against the bed. "Well, let’s not forget, I’ve had a lot of practice hiding things."

He smiles. "You don’t have to hide anymore, okay?"

"Okay."

Hours pass, and the contractions grow more intense. Jericho stays by my side, holding my hand and offering encouragement. The room is filled with the sounds of beeping monitors and the murmurs of the medical staff.

The pain is increasing hugely with every passing moment. It feels like I’m being ripped apart inside. "When am I going to get my epidural?" I whine. "I don’t want to miss the window, and then they tell me I can’t have one."

"Let me go ask." Jericho disappears into the hallway. He returns a few minutes later with a woman in her late thirties with short, dark hair and kind eyes.

"I’m Dr. Rivera," she says. Her tone is calm. "I’m the anesthesiologist. I’ll be administering your epidural."

Feeling grumpy with pain, I mumble, "What took you so long?"

She smiles. "Sorry. Tonight seems to be an unusually busy night in the labor and delivery area."

"I’m sure you’re moving as quickly as possible," Jericho says politely. His tone also says, "Could you move it along, lady?"

Dr. Rivera had some things on a tray, and she fiddled with them for a few moments. "Wesley, I’ll need you to sit up and lean forward slightly. Jericho, you can help support him."

Jericho gently helps me into the right position, supporting me as I lean forward, exposing my back. The nurse disinfects the area on my lower back, explaining each step, which helps keep me calm. There’s nothing worse than being ignored while people work on you like you’re a crash dummy.

Dr. Rivera picks up a sterile needle and syringe. "Okay, Wesley. You’ll feel a small pinch and some pressure, but it shouldn’t be too painful. Just take deep breaths and relax."

"I’m sure it’s better than the pain I’m already feeling," I mutter.

Dr. Rivera smiles. "Absolutely."

I wince slightly as the needle is inserted, but Jericho holds my hand, whispering encouraging words. Dr. Rivera expertly administers the epidural, and she’s right, there is some pressure as the medicine enters my body.

Dr. Rivera meets my gaze. "The medication is in. You should start feeling relief in a few minutes. If you experience any discomfort or need adjustments, let us know."

I groan and grin up at Wesley. "It’s already better."

Jericho looks relieved. "Thank God."

Dr. Rivera laughs and leaves the room.

Hours pass, but this time it’s okay because I’m not in pain the entire time The twisting of my organs’ feeling is gone. I actually doze off a few times, happy each time I wake up to see Jericho sitting beside my bed. He holds my hand the entire time. I’m not even sure he ever takes a bathroom break.

Eventually, one of the nurses, during her hundredth check of my cervix, announces that I’ve reached full dilation and that it’s time. The epidural is turned off, much to my chagrin, but Dr. Martinez explains that if I can’t feel anything, I can’t push properly. Personally, I think he’s just a cruel bastard who likes torturing pregnant omegas, but that might be the pain talking.

Without the numbing of the epidural, the urge to push becomes overwhelming. The medical team prepares for delivery, positioning me by putting my feet in stirrups and getting the necessary equipment ready.

Dr. Martinez returns to my room, looking harassed. I remember Justin in that moment and how much he loved his job. I hope Justin is doing well, and I hope Dr. Martinez loves his job as much as Justin.

"Alright, Wesley, it’s time to push." Dr. Martinez’s eyes crinkle at me over the top of his mask. "You’re going to push when the contractions hit.

That way, you and your body are working together to get the baby out. Okay?"

"Okay," I whimper, nervous because the pain is slowly coming back. I grip Jericho’s hand tightly, and he gives me a reassuring smile.

"You’re doing well, love," he whispers. "Just think, our baby will be here any second."

Excitement thrills through me because he’s right. I’m not just here to be tortured. I’m here to deliver our child. Our child. Mine and Jericho’s. I grin and nod, squeezing his hand.

Okay, Wesley," Dr. Martinez says, watching a monitor. "When this next contraction comes, I want you to give me a big push. Can you do that?"

"Yes," I say quietly, praying I can. My stomach cramps, and my body seems to almost sneeze, and I groan loudly.

"Now, Wes. Give me a nice big push right now," Dr. Martinez says.

I obey his orders, sweat covering my entire body as I strain to get the baby out of my body. I’m trembling and exhausted from hours of being in the hospital. But I’m also ecstatic that the day has finally arrived. The baby made it to term, despite what the naysayers told me.

"Push, Wesley," Dr. Martinez says gruffly. "Come on, you’re almost there."

"You can do this, Wesley," Jericho says softly. "You’re so brave and strong. I fucking love you."

I smile up at him, but then the pain hits me again, and I groan and pant, feeling anxious. "I’m not sure I can do it." The pain burns between my legs, and I’m scared I’m going to wimp out.

Jericho leans in and whispers, "I’m your alpha, and I say you can do this. Listen to my voice, Wesley. The baby is coming, and it’s up to you to help it get to us. Push, honey, push."

I hold his gaze, gasping against the pain. But his voice sinks into me, and I nod. "Okay. Okay. I can do this."

"That’s right. Just listen to the doctor and focus on the baby." He smiles at me, and he has tears in his eyes. "The baby is almost here."

I start crying and nodding at the same time. "I can do this," I whimper.

"Yes, you can." Jericho nods.

"Push now, Wesley." Dr. Martinez is focused on the area between my legs. "The baby’s head is starting to crown. Come on, Wesley, we’re almost there."

"Oh, God," I groan, straining my muscles to do what I need to do. "It hurts."

"It’s okay, love," Jericho says softly.

Dr. Martinez says, "One more big push, Wesley. You’re almost there."

I give one huge final push, and I hear the cry of a baby. A cry so strong, and it fills the room. Both Jericho and I are crying and laughing at the same time. Jericho kisses my tears away, and he hugs me as best he can from his angle.

Dr. Martinez holds the squirming baby as a nurse clamps the umbilical cord. "Do you want to cut the cord, Jericho?" the doctor asks.

Jericho nods and goes to the foot of the bed. He takes the surgical scissors the nurse hands him, and he cuts through the cord. "This is harder than I thought it would be," he mutters.

"You’re telling me," I say, and the nurses all laugh.

Once the cord is cut, one of the nurses takes the baby to a nearby warming table for a more thorough examination. The warming table is equipped with a heat lamp to keep the baby warm, and it’s surrounded by necessary medical tools.

Nurse Evelyn says, "We’re just going to check your baby’s weight, length, and overall health. It’ll only take a few minutes. Then you’ll be able to hold him."

"Him," I repeat, meeting Jericho’s gaze. "It’s a boy."

Dr. Martinez laughs. "Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you the sex of the baby." He sounds embarrassed. "I’ve delivered so many babies today, I’m getting mixed up."

Jericho kisses me, and we smile at each other. "We have a son," he says softly.

"I can’t believe he’s finally here."

"You did so great, Wes. I’m so damn proud of you." He touches my cheek.

"I’m glad you were here with me." I let out a shaky breath. My body is exhausted, but I’m happy. "Having you here helped."

We watch as Nurse Evelyn carefully places the baby on a scale, noting the weight, and then measures the length. Another nurse checks the baby’s heart rate, breathing, muscle tone, reflex response, and color, assigning an Apgar score to assess the baby’s immediate health.

Nurse Evelyn cleans the baby, removing vernix and amniotic fluid, and then swaddles the baby in a soft, warm blanket. With a smile, she

approaches. "You boys ready to meet your son?"

"I think so," I say quietly. I’m nervous and my hands are shaking.

Maybe it’s partly adrenaline and partly fear about being a good dad. I didn’t have a good role model growing up. I hope I know how to be a parent.

Jericho has tears streaming down his cheeks as he watches the nurse put the baby on my chest. The baby is small and slightly wrinkled. "How much does he weigh? He looks so tiny."

"Eight pounds," Nurse Evelyn says. "He’s of average weight."

"I’m glad he wasn’t one of those ten-pound babies you hear about." I smile up at Jericho. "This little guy was hard enough to get out."

"Ten pounds? No, thank you." Jericho touches the baby’s tiny clenched fists, which are tucked close to its body. "His skin is so soft."

"Yes." I stroke my finger over the baby’s tiny cheek. The skin is velvety soft with a pink hue. There’s a fine layer of dark hair covering the baby’s head, soft and downy to the touch. The baby’s eyes are light green like mine. "He has both of our coloring, Jer."

Jericho smiles. "I’m glad. Although he could have purple hair and two heads and I’d still love him."

"Same," I whisper. It’s true, too. I instantly love the baby. It’s a strong, protective, instinctive love. It’s not something I have to work at. I simply love him because he exists.

Jericho laughs. "His ears are so tiny and perfectly shaped."

"Yes, and his hands and feet are like a doll’s." I study the baby’s tiny fingers and toes, each adorned with minuscule, translucent nails.

Nurse Evelyn chuckles. "New, first-time parents are the best to watch. I love how amazed and stunned you are at every little detail."

I grin. "Well, it’s not every day you bring a little baby into the world."

Dr. Martinez smirks. "It is for us."

The nurses laugh.

"I guess that’s true." Jericho smiles.

"Oh, yeah." I grin. "Well, it’s new for us."

"We’ll leave you two alone for a bit to enjoy the new baby. When we come back, we’ll see if you want to breastfeed the baby. I can help you get the baby to latch on if needed." Nurse Evelyn leaves the room.

The minute their gone, Jericho gives me a big, warm kiss on the mouth.

We grin at each other.

"I’ve never been happier," Jericho says. "I feel kind of stunned."

"Me too." I study our sleeping son. "He looks like an angel."

Jericho strokes my hair. "I’ve always thought you looked like an angel."

My cheeks warm. "I’m no angel."

Jericho leans on the bed rail. "You are to me. You saved me, Wesley. You make every day so much better. And now we have this little rascal too."

"I can’t believe this is real." My eyes fill with tears, and the baby is blurry when I look down at him. "I thought I’d never have this. I thought I wouldn’t have an alpha, and I thought I’d never have a baby." I sniff, wiping roughly at my eyes. "But I have both. I have everything I ever wanted."

Jericho’s eyes are teary, too. "And I have everything I didn’t even know I wanted."

We both laugh at that.

My mind shifts to my family. I haven’t heard a word from them, and I’m glad. I hope I never hear another word from them. "I still remember the day I ran away from my family," I say quietly. "I was so scared. I didn’t know where to go or what would happen to me. I only knew I couldn’t stay."

Jericho’s expression tenses. "I’m glad you escaped."

"Me too." I meet his eyes. "I worry sometimes they’ll come and try to hurt us. They don’t want us to be happy."

Jericho swallows hard. "You don’t have to worry about that, Wes."

"Well, I know my Pa. When he hates someone, he never gives up trying for his revenge." Fear shivers through me.

Jericho drops his gaze, a line between his dark brows. "I promise you,

Wes, he can’t hurt you anymore."

"Yeah, but who can ever really be sure of that sort of thing?" I laugh gruffly.

He meets my gaze, and something dark and haunted shifts through his eyes. "You can be sure."

Uneasiness nudges me. "Jericho, do you know something I don’t?"

The muscles of his throat move as if he’s trying to stop himself from saying something. But then he smiles and leans down to kiss me. "No, of course not, love. I only mean that I’ll protect you no matter what, okay?

You have the entire Triple Triad Mafia watching over you."

His smile is warm, but something is lingering in his eyes. I touch his cheek. "You know you can tell me anything, right? We’re not supposed to have any secrets from each other anymore. No more hiding, remember?"

He nods. "Of course. No more hiding."

Jericho looks more like Sasha than I’ve ever seen in that moment.

Despite his words, I know he is indeed hiding something. But I also know that he’d never hurt me, and his only goal is to make me happy. I trust him. I trust that if he has a secret, he keeps it for a reason.

I smile up at him, and he looks relieved when I don’t continue asking questions. "What shall we name our baby?" I ask quietly. "Any ideas?"

Jericho smirks. "Something Irish, I think."

I laugh. "Really?"

"Sure. Our baby is a blend of both Irish and Italian. He’ll have an Italian surname, so he should have an Irish first name. Maybe Liam or Ronan. You choose. Just make it nice and Irish."

"How very considerate of you, dear husband." I narrow my eyes. "Any other reason for your suggestion? Maybe a less noble one?"

He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. "I can’t imagine what you mean."

I laugh. "Yes, you can."

He twists his lips and then grins. "Well, I do think it will be fun as hell to see Sasha’s reaction when we tell him our son’s Irish name." He snorts a laugh. "I can hardly wait."

I sigh and reach for his hand. He grabs mine immediately, bringing my hand to his lips. "You Adonis men," I mutter. "You’re always looking for a fight."

"Yep." He nods. "But we’re also very good and loyal alphas. You should be very thankful you met me and fell madly in love with me."

I look down at our son and then up at Jericho. I grin and say cockily,

"That’s the luck of the Irish for you."