Page 57

Mr. Delgado rushed to where Christian stood by the door, slapping him on the back as he passed before pushing into the room to see his daughter. I moved to do the same, but Louisa held me back, her hand on my stomach.

“Let him say it,” she murmured under her breath.

“Christian Antonio Delgado Ortiz.” His throat worked overtime. “Born healthy and screamin’ like the devil at 0300 hours.”

Louisa grinned at him and then up at me.

“Oh-three hundred, huh? A future infantryman like his father?” I grabbed him hard, and Christian half-laughed, half-cried into my chest. “I’m so happy for you, man. Proud of you. In fucking awe of your wife.” I kissed the side of his stubbled head and breathed a sigh of relief.

“You and me both,” he huffed.

27

Sawdust

Boston, MA

Louisa

“How is she?” Will asked Christian, pushing him back from their embrace to look at his face.

“She’s my fucking hero, bro. Doing good, trying to help him nurse.”

I pushed past him before he even finished the sentence. “Congrats, Christian. On the kid and the badass wife, I’ll hug you later.” I swung the door open, and my eyes locked on the picture in front of me.

It was dark and snowing outside, but the room was lit up like a nativity scene. A modern Holy Mother Mary cradled her baby, propped up on white pillows. Breast out, hair sweaty and falling around her shoulders, looking wrecked and radiant all at once. Nurses in scrubs moved briskly on one side of the bed while her family gathered on the other. The whole thing humming with relief and quiet urgency.

I started crying immediately. No warm-up. Just full, undignified tears.

I felt Will behind me then—his hand settling at the curve between my neck and shoulder, squeezing once, grounding me without making a show of it. He tugged me gently into his side in acknowledgement.

Then he gave me the slightest push forward, a silent go on, and I stepped into the scene. The donkey, maybe… no, that was Will. A sheep?

I didn’t know what emotion had filled me or overflowed from my eyes. It came in waves—relief first, then awe, then this sharp, almost unbearable pride that knocked the breath out of me. Marisol had done it. She looked exhausted and triumphant and completely unreal, and I was so incredibly proud of her, I thought my ribs might crack.

And there he was. Baby Christian, looking like a wet newborn kitten. Bald like his daddy and full of fire like his mom. My breath hitched, and I covered my mouth, shoulders shaking. I cried so hard that Will had to press my face into his chest to keep the noise down. He held me to him as he bent over and kissed Marisol’s cheek for both of us. Then he cupped Christian Junior’s head carefully in one hand, impossibly gentle for someone his size, and that absolutely finished me.

He called it before it became a spectacle, steering me back into the hall with quiet efficiency. My crying had already softened into something more manageable by the time he turned me around to face him, taking in my puffy eyes and snotty nose without judgment.

“Are you okay?’’ he asked. He wanted a real answer.

“No,” I told him honestly. “I think I’m kind of fucked up.”

He shook his head and pulled me in, looping an arm around my shoulders until my forehead hit his chest. Solid. He smelled like shaving cream and sawdust. Total dad.

“I’m a delayed crier,” he murmured. “I’ll go home and cry in the shower, and I’ll look just as ridiculous as you do right now.”

“Honestly,” I said, sniffling, “that’s a gift, Will.” I soaked in the physical comfort he offered so freely, and my pulse slowed.

“Mmhm,” he hummed, more vibration than sound, his lips pressed against my hair. Maybe The Note was a running list of things to cry about later.

“I like when you make that sound,” I mumbled into his ugly sweater. “I bet babies fall right to sleep listening to you hum.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, sis.”

“Why do you smell like sawdust?” I asked as we walked through the empty, snowy streets toward a coffee shop. We’d spent a few minutes visiting with Marisol and the new baby after I pulled myself together, but by 5 AM we were dragging ass.

We weren’t touching, but I felt him tense beside me.