Page 129
“The baby will come when she’s ready.” I pat his stubbled cheek. “And until then, I’m going to watch our dream open its doors and revel in having all those months of work finally pay off. All those nights when you came home with paint in your hair and sawdust on your clothes will finally feel worth it.”
The place is exactly what we imagined, exactly what we built together. The gym on the second floor stretches out behind the glass doors, sunlight pouring through the tall windows.
Heavy bags hang from the ceiling in neat rows, their leather new and their chains gleaming. The ring sits in the middle, ropes still white and canvas unstained, ready for the first fighters to step inside, the first kids who’ll learn that strength can protect instead of harm.
The clinic on the first floor is bright and welcoming. The walls are painted the pale green that Sophia insisted would be calming. The exam rooms are stocked, and the waiting area is filled with chairs that Jenna picked out because they reminded her of her grandmother’s kitchen.
The staff weaves through the space with the particular grace of people who’ve been given a life they never thought they’d have. Many of them are Bruno’s former trafficking victims who’ve found their way to us through channels I’m still learning to navigate, and they fill roles according to their capabilities.
The third floor is our space. We designed a state-of-the-art kitchen, a massive living area, and five bedrooms, each with their own en suite.
Jenna moved to Washington Heights to be closer. She runs the youth programs with a ferocity that startles everyone who doesn’t know her. Pride swells in my chest.
“This is yours.” Marco’s lips hover close to my ear. “Every brick, every blueprint, every late night, all of it dreamed and fought for and brought to life by the woman standing beside me.”
“We built this.” I link our fingers together. “You and me. Together. I had the vision, but you…made it possible. You gave me the space, the resources, and everything else.”
He responds by giving me a soft, slow kiss right in front of everyone. His hands frame my face, and his thumbs trace my cheekbones. Someone whistles, someone else cheers, and I’m laughing against his mouth.
Then, the first contraction hits.
It rolls through me like a wave, tugging at a deep, primal place. I gasp and pull back, my hands gripping his arms.
“Oh!” The sound comes out thin and surprised. “That’s freaking perfect.”
“Lucia?” Marco goes white beneath the tan he’s picked up over the summer. The color drains so fast that his pulse visibly jumps in his throat. “Lucia, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”
“That’s a contraction.” I grip his hands and breathe through it the way they taught us in the classes. He attended them, too, and gave them the same focus he once gave to fights. “That’s definitely a contraction. It’s what we’ve been waiting for.”
His panic and terror are immediate, absolute, and beautiful. “The car. Where are the keys? I need the care bag.” He glances around wildly, scanning the crowd, cataloguing threats, and mapping exits. “Jenna! Jenna, she’s having the baby! The baby is coming!”
Jenna appears at my side like she’s been expecting this. She takes one look at the scene before her and takes charge.
“Breathe,” she commands with a steady voice, her hands resting on my shoulders. “We’ve got time. The hospital is just ten minutes away. Maybe less if Marco drives the way he usually does.”
“The hospital.” Marco’s voice is high and strange. He’s confronted armed men with less fear. “We need to get to the hospital.”
“Marco.” I grab his face and force him to look at me. His jaw shakes with a fine tremor. “I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”
He stares at me, and then, slowly, he nods. His hands spread across the curve on my stomach, where I can feel our Elena kicking. Marco counts my breaths with me, pulling himself back from the edge.
“We’re going to have a baby.” Wonder and joy thread through every syllable. This is the voice of a man who’s spent his whole life taking things apart and is finally learning to build a life. “We’re actually going to have a baby.”
“We are.” I give him a soft, quick kiss, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly. “Now get me to the hospital. I refuse to have this baby right here while you panic.”
Elena Santori arrives four hours later, screaming her fury at the world, her fists clenched, her face red, and her lungs already proving she’s her father’s daughter. Her first cry fills the delivery room, cutting through the exhaustion and the pain and the particular chaos of new life. I’m crying with her before I even know I’m crying and reaching for her before I know my arms are empty.
Marco passes her to me, and I watch the man who’s been a weapon, a soldier, and a tool become a father. The same hands that have taken lives are impossibly gentle as he cradles her and then sets her into my arms with the careful reverence of a man holding his whole world.
“Elena,” he whispers, his voice cracking. His cheeks are wet with tears he doesn’t try to hide. “Elena Marie Santori.”
Hours later, after the nurses have finished their checks and the room has emptied of everyone but us, I shift Elena to the crook of my arm and stretch toward Marco with the other hand. He settles on the edge of the bed, careful not to crowd us, and leans in until his forehead rests against mine. Elena sleeps between us as the three of us breathe together in the quiet.
We’re a family. This future, held in the space between his heartbeat and hers, is one I never thought I’d have.
“She’s perfect.” Marco glances up at me with red eyes, his heart laid bare. “She’s absolutely perfect. She looks just like you.”
“She has your nose.” I trace her perfect features and brush her dark, wild hair that’s sticking up in all directions. Her tiny hand curls around my finger with a grip that surprises me. “And your stubbornness. She couldn’t hold on for another day to start her life. Not one more hour.”
