Elena growled like she was about to Hulk out and rip the bed in half. Her face was red, her hair stuck to her forehead, and if looks could kill, I would’ve been a smoldering pile of ash ten minutes ago.
“You’re doing amazing, Sweetness,” I said, trying not to sound like I was about to cry or pass out—or both.
“Shut up,” she gritted through her teeth.
Fair.
She bore down again, letting out a low, primal sound thatshot straight through me. I wanted to scoop her up and shield her from every ounce of discomfort, but all I could do was hold her hand and stay rooted beside her. She was fierce. Terrifying. Beautiful.Mine.
“Head’s crowning!” someone said—I didn’t know who, because my ears were ringing.
“Oh fuck,” I whispered.
I peeked down and instantly regretted it.
“Yup. That’s… that’s a whole head. That’s happening.”
Elena let out another guttural yell, and just like that?—
There she was.
A tiny, wrinkly, screaming miracle.
My daughter.
My knees nearly gave out.
“She’s perfect,” I heard someone say. Could’ve been me.
Elena was slumped back against the bed, breathless and glistening with sweat, but her eyes—those fierce, brown, battle-worn eyes—found mine.
“Go,” she rasped. “Be with her.”
I kissed her forehead and muttered something likeI love you so fucking muchthen turned just in time to watch this impossibly small creature kick her legs and scream at the top of her lungs like she already had shit to say.
“She’s got lungs,” I managed.
Tori smiled. “You ready to cut the cord?”
I nodded, even though I absolutely was not.
But my hands were steady as they passed me the scissors, and when I snipped through that slick, silvery cord, a weird wave of awe and terror flooded my chest.
She was her own person now.
They wiped her down, wrapped her in a blanket, and started toward the bed.
“Let Dad hold her first,” Elena told the nurse, her voice tired but certain.
I froze. “You sure?”
She nodded, eyes glassy but full of that quiet conviction that always leveled me.
The nurse placed the bundle in my arms like that was a normal thing to do—like I was someone who knew what to do with a whole-ass baby. My arms curled around her instinctively.
She was so small. So warm. Her face scrunched up like she’d been born ready to judge everyone in the room. My heart cracked wide open, and something poured out—love, maybe. Or complete emotional obliteration.
“Hi,” I whispered, voice shaking as I cradled her against my chest. “I’m your dad. Sorry in advance.”
