Oliver looked on amazed as his witch dipped a little backwards, his hand still had a light grip on her upper arm. To an onlooker it would seem like they were in the midst of a slow dance. Oliver kept on watching as her lips uplifted themselves into...
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Oliver couldn't move, he almost couldn't breathe because of the pain almost—what felt like—coated over his entire body. He couldn't even move in a proper sense while lying down in this damned hospital bed. He could only groan, only wait. The pain made him dizzy and irritated but still there was happiness in his heart, he was eager to see his little angel.
Any moment now.
And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard a great and sweet cry. It was the proof of a set of well developed lungs.
A teary smile spread on his face.
He heard Elli's voice, "There, there, sweetheart, we're going to see daddy now."
It was sad that he couldn't crane his neck much because of the overwhelming pain.
When they came close enough was the time he could finally set his eyes on them.
There, Elli was being pushed forward in a wheel chair with their newborn baby wrapped up nicely and cradled to her chest.
In haste, Oliver might have tilted his head too much, for a shooting pain made him close his eyes tight. When he opened eyes again, Elli and the baby were right next to his bed, both smiling up at him. By some miracle, the baby had stopped crying in a fraction of a second. Maybe because it thought daddy looked fine and handsome and heroic in his current state.
"Is it my prince or princess?" Oliver croaked.
Elli smiled as her nurse went off to the corner of the room with Oliver's nurse.
"It is mommy's little boy," she said. "See the blue beanie."
"Ah, yes, I wove it myself," Oliver grinned as much as he could. Over the last months no matter how much his friends and neighbors had been teasing him, he felt quite proud of himself for he had been weaving sweaters, beanies, scarves and socks for their tiny bun baking in oven. And whatever others said, they couldn't help but also admit that Oliver had done bloody darn good job in what he was doing. Oliver even was thinking about opening a new business—Oliver and Sons, here he'll weave one after another baby clothing and his sons would market them. Bloody hell, they would be so rich, and they could even send some as monthly gifts for Brandan's grandchildren.
Talking about Brandan—that friend of his came an hour later when Oliver sent a text to all family and friends about junior Oliver's entering the world. Brandan even brought Evan with him. It was when Oliver was alone in the room.
The two simply burst into the room but then skidded to a stop by the sight of Oliver.
"Whoa!" Brandan rubbed his jaw, his brows pulling together in confusion. "I thought we were coming here to meet your baby boy? Not you—with a strapped up leg; a belt around your neck; butterfly bandages all over your hand."
