Page 87 of His Assistant

We hustle down to the street, where they both help me slide awkwardly into the car. I focus on my breathing as another contraction grips me. Dominic checks the dashboard clock.

“Five minutes exactly,” he says, impressed.

I shake my head. “We should have waited,” I tell him. “Dr. Greco said to wait until I’ve had contractions for an hour.”

“Baby, I’m not letting you miss your epidural window,” he says, holding onto my hand.

It’s been his biggest fear since Dr. Greco walked us through the delivery process. He’s been so attentive these last few months. Although, right at this moment, I’d like to hit him for being so pushy.

When we get to the hospital, Chiara jumps out to find a nurse. Not long after, she returns pushing the wheelchair. The nurse trails behind her, looking miffed. I guess pushiness isn’t reserved for the men of the family.

We’re settled into the room when Maya and my dad show up about an hour later. There’s been very little progress. As I told Dominic, we got here too early. He doesn’t leave my side, though. He’s been rubbing my back and telling me stories to distract me from the pain.

Dad holds up a bag when he walks in, and I look at him in confusion.

“I brought snacks,” he says proudly.

I can’t help but laugh. It’s such a thoughtful, and somewhat unnecessary, gesture. Maya comes to my other side and takes my other hand.

“How are you doing, babes?” she asks. “You’re absolutely radiant.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m pregnant, not blind,” I tell her. “I saw myself in the elevator mirror. I look like I just finished a marathon with a beach ball under my shirt.”

“You’ve never looked better.” She smiles.

I roll my eyes, but I squeeze her hand and Dominic’s as another contraction hits. She hisses and tells my dad he’d better be the one holding my hand for the rest of the night.

The hours start to blur together, but the time finally comes for me to deliver my daughter. Dr. Greco is there, encouraging me to push and checking to make sure my perfect girl comes out the right way. I’ve kicked everyone out but Dominic because, by now, I feel like a sweaty, disgusting mess, and only the love of my life should have to see me like this.

Just when I think I can’t possibly push anymore, I hear a loud, piercing cry. Then my daughter is placed into my arms. She’s the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen.

“Oh, my God,” I gasp. “Dominic?”

He’s smiling down at her, his eyes as big as saucers. She’s only a minute old and she already has him wrapped around her finger.

“We’re going to clean her up,” Dr. Greco tells me, gently taking her from my arms. I’m reluctant to let her go. “Dad, would you like to cut the cord?”

Dominic looks to me for confirmation. I nod for him to do it. Then they take my sweet girl away. I try to watch, but I’m so exhausted. The nurses are pros, though. They wipe her off, swaddle her, and slip the tiniest little hat on her head. Then Dominic gently picks her up, cradling her in his arms.

It sends me into yet another fit of tears. He’s looking down at her like she holds the answers to all of life’s questions, and I believe that she probably does. He’s a completely different man now. I get it. I’m different now, too. She’s come to tilt our universe on its axis.

EPILOGUE II

DOMINIC

Five Years Later

I don’t notice the glitter on my suit until the elevator’s already carrying me down to the lobby. There it is on the sleeve, a smear of silver that catches the light. I try to brush it off, which only spreads it.

Sofia glances down to see what I’m doing and bursts out laughing.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“I didn’t say anything,” she says, hands up.

Our son, Antony, coos against her chest in his little carrier. He’s only three months old, and he never wants to be more than six inches from her. I understand the instinct completely.

“For the record,” she continues. “I’m the one who told you not to buy that craft kit.”