A clattering sound followed, and his voice went faint as if he’d dropped the phone. “I’m going to be a father! I’m a dad! A dad!”
I rolled my eyes, but Maria’s soft laugh seemed to ease her pain, even if just for a moment.
A second later, Dalton’s voice cut in. “Idiot dropped his phone. And left it. I’ll drop it by the hospital later. Good luck? Does this make me an uncle?”
I looked down at my phone on my lap and started to respond.
“Focus on the road, Holly!” Maria hissed, another contraction apparently hitting as her pretty face screwed like a twist of pain.
“Iamfocusing!” I shot back, though my hands were shaking on the wheel. “Mostly.”
By the time I screeched up to the hospital, my nerves were sparking like live wires. I half dragged, half guided Maria through the automatic doors. We got her into a room, and suddenly everything blurred—nurses wheeling monitors, snapping on gloves, checking charts. I stuck to Maria’s side like Velcro, clutching the little cup of ice chips like it was sacred.
Normally, this was Maria’s role. She was the calm one, the sunshine. She could make a thunderstorm feel like a spring shower with just a smile. But labor had twisted that sunshine into lightning, sharp and relentless. Every time a contraction hit, she clenched her jaw and let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a scream, and I realized she wasn’t going to be able to talk me through this one.
Which meant the job fell to me. God help us all.
“Ok, ok, remember what that slightly mildewy doula said,” I said, shoving an ice chip at her. “In and out, steady breaths, channel your inner zen goddess—”
Her eyes flicked open long enough to pin me, and through gritted teeth she whispered, “Hermana… you’re babbling.”
That one word stopped me cold. Babbling. Me. Holly McCarthy, professional smartass and world-class sulker, not known for running my mouth unless it was dripping with sarcasm. And here I was, rattling on like a bad infomercial because the silence felt like it might kill us both.
“Right,” I muttered quickly, pressing the cool cloth to her forehead instead. “Deluxe comfort package it is. Handholding, forehead dabbing, and questionable pep talks. All included, free of charge.”
Another contraction slammed through her, and she reached out like a drowning woman, grabbing my hand. Bones cracked. I hissed.
“Ok, ow, bones are supposed to stay inside skin—but you’re doing amazing!”
Her face twisted, then softened for half a second. “You’re… something, you know that?”
“Exactly. That’s my gift.” I leaned down and brushed damp strands of hair off her forehead, feeling her sweat stick to my fingers. “You’re welcome.”
She let out a shaky laugh that broke into a groan, and my chest squeezed. This wasn’t the Maria I knew—the one who could cook for twenty bikers without breaking a sweat, who could talk Diego down from a temper faster than anyone else. This was raw Maria. Human Maria. And it scared the hell out of me, but it also made me fiercely determined.
“I got you,” I whispered, so low only she could hear it under the beeping monitors and shuffling nurses. “You’re not alone. Not for one second. Even if you break every bone in my hand, I’m right here.”
Her lips trembled into something like a smile. “Auntie Holly in training.”
“Damn right.” My voice cracked on the words, but I grinned anyway.
Another contraction ripped through her, and she practically tried to climb off the bed, dragging me with her. I scrambled, pressed the cloth to her forehead, and started babbling again before she could sink into the pain.
“Ok, ok, let’s think of something else. Pizza. Imagine pizza. No, wait, not pizza, you’d puke. Puppies. Imagine a thousand tiny golden retriever puppies running around in sweaters. Or, no, wait, better—Diego trying to change a diaper. He’s gagging. He’s crying. He’s screaming for backup—”
Maria’s laugh broke free, wet and shaky, but real. “Stop—you’re going to make me lose focus—”
“Good,” I said, relief flooding me. “Focus on laughing, not on crushing my knuckles into dust.”
She groaned but held tighter. Another wave came, and I swear my hand was going to be mangled forever, but I didn’t care. I kept talking, kept joking, because it was the only thing I could give her. My words. My stubborn refusal to let her do this alone.
Her face twisted, eyes bright with tears, but through it all, she still managed to squeeze out, “You’re a good friend.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a grin. “Takes one to know one, sunshine.” And for a split second, even in the chaos, her smile made the whole room feel brighter.
Then Diego burst in, wide-eyed and frantic.
“Diego!” I pointed to Maria’s free hand. “You get that side!”
