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I shake my head. She doesn’t realize how wrong she is. “You’ve been carrying our baby for nine months. That’s a hell of a lot of work. You’ve made an amazing home in there, and now, you’re about to deliver our baby.”
Her green eyes soften when she looks at me, and my heart beats so fucking loudly with the love I have for this woman right here. “I love you,” she says with a sigh.
“I love you,” I tell her, staring into her eyes as her hand squeezes in mine. “I’m grateful every day for that spin the bottle game back in college or else I would have never known what true happiness would be like.”
The door opens, and I turn my head to see a woman walking in, smiling at us. “Hi, you must be the dad,” she says, glancing down at the medical sheet before she lifts her head. “You guys ready to have a baby?”
I swallow harshly. “Wait. She’s having the baby right now?” I ask, my eyes widening, unable to make sense of it. I thought it’d be maybe an hour or two before she was ready to push but fuck, it’s happening right now. And I’m so glad Igot here in time.
“Yep,” she replies, pulling on her gloves before she reaches under my wife’s gown. “She’s at ten centimeters, it’s time to start pushing.”
“Holy shit,” I murmur, turning back to Leila. “You’ve got this, gorgeous.”
She stares into my eyes, and squeezes my hand as the doctor puts her in position, ready to push.
The next hour and a half go by in a quick blur. Groans, screams and so much sweat, until the world unblurs and I hear the sound of a baby crying.
“Holy fuck,” I murmur, glancing at the doctor as she picks up my baby, and Leila lies her head back on the pillow, blowing out a much-needed breath. “You did it,” I say, tears streaming down my cheeks as I reach down and kiss Leila, brushing the hair sticking to her forehead away. “You fucking did it, baby.”
“Congratulations,” the OBGYN says, as she walks toward us with our baby. “It’s a girl.”
My eyes widen, and a grin spreads across my face as she places our baby girl on Leila’s chest. I smile down at my two girls, feeling like my life is complete. My heart feels like it’s about to burst.
“Hi baby,” Leila murmurs, lifting the baby’s finger as she cries out in her mother’s arms.
Leila lifts her head to meet my eyes. “It’s a girl,” she murmurs. I nod, unable to say anything, the feelings inside me too fucking much, and Leila’s lips twist into a smirk. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course, baby,” I say, cupping her face in my hand.
“I was secretly hoping it was a girl, too,” she whispers which makes me chuckle.
“You were?”
She nods, glancing down at our baby for a second before she meets my eyes again. “I want you to be happy, and I know you really wanted a girl.”
My brows dip, and I shuffle closer to her on the bed, shaking my head. “Leila,youmake me happy. You always make me happy, baby, and I might have joked around about wanting another girl, but I would have loved this baby so fucking much even if it was a boy.”
She smiles, and then lets out a sigh. “We always have next time.”
I let out a laugh, nodding in agreement. I can’t wait to grow our family. “Deal,” I say. “But only after a very, very long break.” We waited three years before having another, and I think the time we spent with just Nova was perfect. I want to get to know my daughters before we decide to bring another baby into the mix. And besides, Leila needs a break. Raising two toddlers will be hard enough.
“Deal,” she murmurs, smiling down at our baby. “She looks just like you,” my girl whispers, both of our eyes locked on our sweet baby in her mother’s arms.
I let out a scoff. “I love her, but she kind of looks like an alien right now.” I arch a brow. “Should I take offense to that?”
Leila rolls her eyes, letting out a laugh. “She has your gorgeous blue eyes,” she says with a sweet smile that makes my heart thud against my chest.
Fuck. I love this woman. Every day, I wake up and think I can’t possibly love her more than I already do. And every day, I’m proven wrong.
I pick up my daughter’s tiny little fingers, which immediately wrap around my pointer finger. “What do you want to call her?” I ask my wife.
“I named the last one,” she says. “It’s your turn now.”
I steal a glance at Leila, my brows dipping. “Are you sure? You did the hard part, baby. You should get to name her.”
She shakes her head. “You can name her. If it’s horrendous, then I can always veto.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, and my eyes drift to my daughter, seeing her eyes closed shut, her pink, pouty lips pressed against her mother’s skin, her dark, brown hair matching Leila’s.
