“Hey, Hurricane,” I say softly. She’s wearing my jersey and what looks to be a pair of my shorts as well. Her gaze snaps up to mine as soon as I speak, and I take in her red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks.
“Brady.” Her voice cracks and I swiftly move to her and gather her in my arms.
“I’m here, Sage. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what it takes. All of our plans for the birth might have gone out the fucking window, but that doesn’t matter. Because I love you. And that’s stronger than anything else.” I continue murmuring as we sway back and forth and Sage cries into my shoulder. I hear the sound of the door closing and then it’s just the two of us. Well, three, if you count our little girl, who’s almost ready to make her entrance.
“C’mon,” I say, guiding Sage over to the bed so she can sit.
“No, sitting hurts. I need to walk. I’m so sorry I pulled you away from the team, I really thought it was going to happen and you wouldn’t be here, but now I feel even worse,” she blubbers, a fresh wave of tears falling.
I smile, wiping the moisture away with my thumbs. “Do you remember at the grocery store, back when youfirst told me you were pregnant, and you said you didn’t normally get so emotional?”
She nods and sniffles.
“Who would’ve thought it would get worse?” I wink so she knows I’m teasing, and it does just what I hoped it would: it makes her laugh.
“It’s not my fault, it’s the hormones. I promise I’m a lot more normal when I’m not pregnant.”
I lean in and kiss her forehead. “I can’t wait to see that.” Then, I turn her around so her back is to my front and reach around to lift her belly. “Does this still feel good?”
“Oh God, yes,” she moans. We stay like that, swaying once again, Sage leaning on me as I take the weight from her in the only way I can right now.
Her hand covers mine a couple of minutes later. “Contraction.” She winces, turning in my arms and wrapping her arms around my neck. She starts to moan, low and long. The contraction seems to last forever, and it’s a struggle to maintain my calm, seeing her in so much pain.
“I think you need to get Enid back in here,” Sage gasps when it finally passes. She steps back and puts a hand under her belly, on the front of my shorts that she’s wearing, and grimaces. “My water just broke.”
I get Sage to hold onto the end of the bed before hustling over to the door and calling Enid back in. Fiona’s in the hallway and walks over.
“I’ll stay out here, but is there anyone else you want me to call?”
“Yeah, can you text my brother and sister?” I rattle off their numbers as Enid goes to check on Sage.
“You got it.”
“Thanks.” A louder moan comes from inside, and my eyes widen. “I gotta go.”
Back in the room, Enid has been joined by a nurse, and Sage is on all fours on the bed as they check her.
“Things are moving quickly now, Sage. You’re almost fully dilated. It looks like your girl was just waiting for her daddy to get here.”
Sage’s gaze finds mine.
“She’s already a daddy’s girl,” I joke, stroking her sweat-soaked hair away from her face. “I can’t wait to meet her. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” Sage whispers, and I kiss the tears on her cheeks. Her face scrunches up again as another contraction hits. “Oh God, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can, little mama. Yes, you can. You’re the strongest woman I know, and our daughter is lucky to have you as a mother. And she’s ready to meet you.”
Not long after that, Ivy Dixon enters the world, screaming and crying, as if she’s the one who was inconvenienced by her early arrival, and not the rest of us.
36
SAGE
“I can’t believethey’re just gonna let us walk out of here with her. What if we forget how to clean her umbilical cord? What if you can’t get her to nurse? What if?—”
“Oh my God, stop,” I say, hiding my smile at Brady’s adorable panic spiral. “It’s not like we can stay in the hospital forever, we have to go home sometime. Wouldn’t you rather sleep in your own bed tonight? Besides, we still have Enid on call, and she’ll be checking on us tomorrow. Everything will be fine. Parents have been doing this for millennia. Hey, did you know, Ivy has more bones than us? Babies are born with almost a hundred extra bones that will fuse together over time.”
Brady glares at me from the floor, where he’s been crouched in front of the car seat, double and triple checking the straps. Why? I have no idea. But I’ve been busy nursing Ivy and letting him putter around.
