"You're speeding," she says through gritted teeth.
"Yes."
"The baby's not going to fall out in the car."
"I'm not taking chances."
She laughs—breathless, pained, but real. "My Bratva killer, scared of a little childbirth."
"I'm not scared."
I am, in fact, terrified.
***
The hospital is a blur of bright lights and antiseptic smell and nurses who keep telling me to calm down.
I don't calm down.
Lily is moved to a delivery room. Hooked up to monitors that beep and flash numbers I don't understand. A doctor examines her, says she's progressing well, says it could be a few more hours.
Hours. She has to do this forhours.
"You can sit down," Lily says. She's propped up in the bed, hair damp with sweat, face pale but determined. "You're making the nurses nervous."
"I'm fine."
"You've been pacing for forty-five minutes."
I stop pacing.
She's the bravest person I've ever known. A year ago, she was standing on an auction block, covered in another man's blood, asking for a family. Now she's here, carrying my child, about to bring new life into the world.
And she's making jokes.
"Come here," she says softly, reaching for me.
I go. Take her hand. Press my forehead to hers.
"I'm terrified," I admit. The words come out rough, scraped from somewhere deep. "I've never been this scared in my life."
"I know." Her fingers brush my cheek. "But we're going to be okay. All three of us."
"How do you know?"
"Because you promised me forever." She kisses me softly. "And you always keep your promises."
The next six hours are brutal.
Lily labors with a strength that humbles me. Between contractions, I feed her ice chips, wipe the sweat from her forehead with a cool cloth, let her crush my hand until I lose feeling in my fingers. When she needs to move, I help her walk slow circles around the room, her weight leaning against me.
"You're doing so well," I murmur against her hair. "So strong. I've got you."
"Easy for you to say," she gasps. "You're not the one pushing a watermelon out of your—" Another contraction hits and she doubles over, gripping my arms.
I hold her through it. Would hold her through anything.
At one point, she threatens to castrate me if I ever touch her again. I tell her that's fair. She laughs, then screams, then laughs again.
