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“The babies are coming soon.”

Emma closes her eyes. “Define soon.”

Dr. Keller laughs. “Soon enough that we’re going to start getting ready.”

Staff begin moving around the room as soon as Dr. Keller finishes speaking, bringing equipment closer to the bed. One nurse adjusts Emma’s monitors and another prepares the stations waiting for the babies.

Emma follows the movement around us until her hand reaches across the mattress for mine, and the fear in her face has me beside her before she has to ask.

I take her hand. “I’m right here.”

She nods once. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Not a chance.”

I keep my attention on her instead of the monitors.

When she drops back against the pillow after another push, I press my mouth against her temple. “You’re doing incredible.”

She turns her head enough to glare at me. “If you tell me I’m doing great again, I’m biting you.”

“I’ll adjust my wording.”

“You should.”

Dr. Keller looks up. “Next contraction, Emma. We’re close.”

Emma closes her eyes and tightens her grip around my hand. The contraction starts.

I brace beside her and keep my face close enough that she can hear me without anyone else in the room mattering. “Stay with me.”

“I’m trying.”

“I’ve got you.”

Emma bears down with a cry and crushes my hand in hers. Dr. Keller talks her through the push, and I stay bent beside her until another sound cuts through everything happening around us.

A baby is crying.

Dr. Keller lifts our daughter into view, tiny and furious as she protests whatever has just happened to her. “Your daughter looks perfect.”

Emma’s face crumples as the tears come, and I bend closer because mine aren’t far behind.

I forget how to breathe. The nurse brings the baby toward her, and when our daughter is placed against Emma’s chest, I stare at her small face and damp dark hair.

Emma looks up at me through tears. “Bane.”

I bend over and kiss her forehead because words refuse to cooperate.

Our daughter cries against her chest, one tiny fist curling near her cheek.

Before I can take in more, Dr. Keller tells Emma she’s ready for the second baby.

I stay beside her and she pushes again, gripping my hand hard enough that I know I’ll feel it tomorrow.

Less than ten minutes later, another cry rises from the end of the bed, and Dr. Keller looks up at us with a smile. “Your boy is here.”

I barely manage to process the words before the nurse lifts my son and brings him toward Emma, placing him beside his sister against her chest.