He smiles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.“Me too.Both parts.”
I press my forehead against his, breathing him in.“We’ve faced down rival MCs, hospital boards, you being held hostage and me almost dying.A baby can’t be harder than all that.”
His laugh is soft but genuine.“Keep telling yourself that, especially at three a.m.when she won’t stop crying.”
“We’ll take shifts,” I promise, pressing a kiss to his temple.“Just like stakeouts.”
“Somehow I doubt your tactical experience will translate directly to diaper changes,” he teases, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes my chest tighten.
“You’d be surprised what skills transfer,” I counter, guiding him toward the rocking chair.I sit first, pulling him down onto my lap.He comes willingly, settling against me with a sigh.“Besides, I’ve been practicing on that creepy doll your sister gave us.”
“It’s not creepy, it’s anatomically correct for diapering practice,” he corrects, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the gentle motion of the rocking chair nearly lulling us both back to sleep.Xavier’s fingers trace abstract patterns on my forearm, his breathing gradually slowing.
“We need a name.”His voice is thick with approaching sleep.
“We’ve been through a dozen baby name books,” I remind him.“Nothing felt right.”
“Maybe we need to meet her first,” he suggests.“See who she is.”
I nod against his shoulder, thinking of all the possible futures stretching out before us.School plays and skinned knees, teaching her to ride a bike, and eventually threatening her first date.A life so far removed from the violence and chaos of my past that it sometimes feels like a dream.
“Zach?”Xavier’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“What if I’m not good at this?”The vulnerability in his question catches me off guard.Xavier, who faces medical emergencies with unflinching calm, who stood up to an entire hospital board, afraid of failing at fatherhood?
“You’ll be amazing,” I tell him, absolute certainty in my voice.“You’re already amazing with your patients, with the kids at the clinic.This will be different, but that part of you, the part that cares, that heals, that’s what matters.”
“And you?”he asks, turning slightly to see my face.“The enforcer as a dad?”
I consider this, the question I’ve asked myself countless times since Daphne’s proposal.“I think… I think she’ll make me better.Give me a reason to be more careful, more present.”I press a kiss to his hair.“Like you did.”
He relaxes against me, seemingly satisfied with my answer.“We should try to get some sleep,” he grumbles, making no move to get up.“Clinic opens in five hours.”
“Few more minutes,” I negotiate, tightening my arms around him.“Just want to sit here a little longer.”
In the quiet of the nursery, with Xavier’s weight solid and warm against me, I allow myself to imagine the life that awaits us.Not just the two of us anymore, but three.A family built on choice rather than blood, on love rather than obligation.
“Two weeks,” Xavier whispers, already half asleep.“Everything changes.”
“Everything already has,” I reply softly, watching the first hints of dawn lighten the sky outside the nursery window.“For the better.”
* * *
Xavier
The phone rings at exactly three forty-seven a.m., jolting me from a deep sleep.Zach is already reaching for it before I can fully register what’s happening, his reflexes sharper than mine even when half conscious.
“It’s time,” he says, suddenly wide awake as he listens to whoever’s on the other end.He squeezes my shoulder.“Daphne’s in labor.They’re at Mercy General.”
I’m out of bed in an instant, adrenaline clearing away the fog of sleep.“How far apart are her contractions?Has her water broken?”The doctor in me takes over automatically, cataloging everything we might need.
“Shay says she’s already at eight centimeters.Baby’s coming fast.”Zach is pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, his movements efficient and precise despite the early hour.“They barely made it to the hospital.”
“Eight?”I repeat, surprise momentarily freezing me mid-motion.“That means she’s been in labor for hours.Why didn’t she call sooner?”
