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There’s a knock at the door before a young, cheery nurse comes strolling in. “How are you doing, Carlie?”

“Better.” My wife glances over at the monitor next to the bed. “I think the contractions are spreading out.”

“Great. I’m going to check your vitals really quick, then you can get some rest while we wait to see what your little one wants to do.”

Our little one decides he likes the accommodations and stays put for three more weeks. I’m working in my new home office, attempting to organize everything that I let slide for the last few months of the season, when my phone buzzes. “Hello.”

“It’s time.” My heart accelerates at my wife’s words. “I’m walking over to the hospital now.” Hell fucking yes. We’re finally going to meet our little one.

“Are you okay? Did someone go with you?” She’s my first concern. While I love our child with all my heart, I couldn’t survive without my wife, and I’ll kick Tate Grimes’ ass if he let my pregnant wife leave his office in labor without anyone going along to make sure she gets to the hospital.

I hold the phone against my shoulder and rush through the house looking for my keys. “I’m excited to meet our little guy. Eek.” She gasps loudly in my ear before I hear rustling on the other side of the line. “That was a big one.” I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or someone else. “We’re walking into the hospital now. I’m going to get checked in.”

“I’m on my way,” I tell her when I find them on the key rack. “Love you,” I add, but she’s already hung up.

I make it to the hospital in record time by ignoring the speed limits. After parking in the emergency lot, I rush through the lobby and right into the elevator. The doors are closing when a large hand slips in and smacks them open. “Good God. Not you again.”

Fuck me. The same burly middle-aged security guard steps on and glares at me. “My wife is in labor this time.”

“And you need a visitor badge to get to labor and delivery,” he grumbles and points at the front desk. “I’ll hold the elevator while you step over to the desk to get one.” From his crossed-arm stance and the no-nonsense set of his shoulders, I can tell he isn’t going to let me slide a second time so I rush over to the desk, pulling out my wallet as I go.

A minute or so later, I step back into the elevator with the irritated guard. “You know they don’t pay me enough to deal with half-crazed idiots who have no reason to rush since they aren’t going to be any help in the delivery room anyway,” he grumbles under his breath loud enough for me to hear.

“I appreciate your help,” I tell him when the elevator stops on the fourth floor. “What’s your name?” I hold the door open to get the information from him.

His eyes narrow before he answers. “Dennis Collins and my boss’ name is George Stills if you’d like to lodge a complaint.”

“I’m not going to complain. I wanted to send you some hockey tickets for your help,” I tell him and move my hand, letting the doors close.

I make a mental note to ask Jordan’s secretary to send the guard tickets and head down the hall toward my wife’s room.

“She’s beautiful.” I hug my daughter against my chest and feel my heart settle into a normal rhythm. It was a tough two hours, but my wife handled it like a champ. Carlie actually did much better than me. Seeing her in pain cut me in two, and I’m not sure I can watch her go through it again so our gorgeous little Emilia might be an only child.

When the doctor announced we have a beautiful baby girl, not the boy we’d been expecting, my knees turned to jelly, and I almost fell on my ass. For the entire pregnancy, both of us were convinced our little one was a boy. We were so certain, we decided not to find out the sex.

My wife turns to the side and winces while trying to get comfortable. “Are you okay?” I hold Emilia close and walk over to sit on the edge of Carlie’s hospital bed.

“I’m sore and tired but insanely happy.” My wife smiles at me as her eyes droop. “I can’t believe our daughter is almost ten pounds.”

I’m still shocked my wife managed to deliver our big girl without any help or drugs.

When she yawns for the fifth time in two minutes, I tell her, “Get some rest. I’ll take care of Emilia.”

“I love you,” she whispers as her eyes drift closed.

“I love you and Emilia so much.” I lean over and kiss her soft cheek. “You did good, Mommy.”

“We did good.”