Chapter 1 — Douglas

“I’m going to murder you, Dee. I swear to—ahh!” Michelle squeezed Douglas’ hand like it was her sworn duty to pulverize it. “Nngh, it hurts. Why did I let you do this to me again?”

“Because you’re a kind, caring soul who has compassion for a lost soul like mine.” Douglas let her squeeze, and when she was done, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “You’re doing great, you know?”

“How do you know that?” Michelle spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re not a doctor, Dee. You don’t know these things. How many other labors have you attended?”

She had a point.

Michelle cried out in pain and clamped down on his hand again, and Douglas drew in a deep breath to work himself through the crushing agony she inflicted upon him. Her curly locks were stuck to her forehead, matted by sweat, and her face had gone red from the physical exertion. Douglas knew that childbirth wasn’t pretty, but he hadn’t imagined anything half as intense as this. He valued Michelle’s gift to him even more now that he knew how intense labor was.

There was a polite knock on the door to their private hospital room. Douglas lifted his head to look toward it. Dr. Nash slid the door open and entered, his silver hair carefully styled so not a lock was out of place. Bright blue eyes glimmered in the stark glare hospital lights as Dr. Nash made his way to the bedside.

“How are we doing in here?” he asked jovially.

“I’m dying.” Michelle ground her teeth. “Get it out of me.”

Dr. Nash laughed. It was a breezy sound that Douglas admired. Since they’d met Dr. Nash during Michelle’s prenatal visits, Douglas had thought the man was attractive. In a hospital setting, doing what he loved to do, he was even more so.

Not that it would work out anyway. Douglas had a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth, and it had ended every relationship he’d been in prematurely. After a string of false starts that didn’t last for more than a few months, he’d decided to hang up his dating hat.

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that. I’m going to check to see how we’re doing, okay?” Dr. Nash lifted the blankets covering Michelle’s lower half. With a hum, he looked back up at Michelle from over the blankets. “Looks like we’re set to deliver this baby.”

“Thank god.” Michelle let her head fall back on the pillows. “I am so over this. So over this. Douglas, you are not getting another kid. One and done.”

“You mean you won’t give me the quiverfull family I’ve always dreamed of?”

“Oh, hell no!”

Douglas laughed, and it earned him a sharp elbow in the ribs from Michelle.

Around them, movement had begun. Nurses entered the room. Linens changed hands. A sterilized stainless steel medical tray was delivered, its contents strange looking. Douglas was glad that Michelle had no interest in looking, because he was starting to feel queasy thinking about the things on that tray, and he wasn’t even the one delivering the baby.

“All right, Michelle, are we ready?” Dr. Nash asked. “We’re going to get this baby born quickly. It’ll all be done soon.”

“Please, I will literally punch a nun for that to happen. Can we make it happen?” Michelle lifted her head, her chin tucked against her neck. “I’m so done.”

“Then all you need to do is remember your Lamaze training and work with me through the next few contractions, okay?” Dr. Nash snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves. “Everyone in this room is a team, and we’re all here for you and your baby.”

“That’s great, really, but can we hurry it up?” Michelle’s words grew tighter midway through the sentence, and she squeezed Douglas’ hand so hard, he thought he heard something crack. “It’s really bad. I am so regretting not getting that epidural. What the hell was I thinking?”

“You’re doing great.” Douglas squeezed her hand back, and Michelle shot him a look so dirty he decided it was best just to keep his mouth shut.

“All right, Michelle, I’ve got Nurse Byrne and Nurse Susa here with me. The baby is in an anterior position—that’s good. Very good. You’re fully dilated now and it’s ready to be born. We’re going to work through this second stage of labor together. Whenever you feel the need to push, I want you to follow through with it, okay? Until the baby starts to crown, we’re going to push.”

“We’re?” Michelle asked. She let her head sink back against the pillow. “So glad that—ahh!” Michelle didn’t just squeeze Douglas’ hand—she curled up onto herself, eyes wide. “Oh god, oh god, I need to push.”

Excitement spread through Douglas’ chest. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. The delivery was coming to an end, and that meant that in a few hours’ time, he’d get to meet his new son or daughter face to face for the very first time.

He was ready. He was more ready than he’d ever been before.

“Remember your counting. Count with me. You’re pushing down and—very good!” Dr. Nash praised. “All right. You’re doing great. Breathe. You have to remember to keep breathing. You won’t be very effective at labor if you’ve passed out.”

“How much longer?” Michelle brushed a damp curl from her forehead. “We’re almost done, right? Pushing means we’re almost done?”

“With a new mother whose baby is in an anterior position, we’re looking at just another hour or two.”

“Just!” Michelle laughed dryly. “Dee, you are in so much trouble when I can walk again. I am going to kick your ass for convincing me to do this. I—”

According to the crushed bones in Douglas’ hand, another contraction struck. Michelle breathed out through her teeth and pushed, and Douglas stood by for support. The contractions were coming regularly now, and each time Michelle pushed, Dr. Nash encouraged her through it.

Nurses buzzed around them. They wiped Michelle’s forehead with damp cloths and made sure she was comfortable. One, a plump woman with a dark complexion, compassionately took over for Douglas at the half hour mark so he could step out of the room to get a drink of water. When he returned, Michelle glared daggers at him.

He knew not to take it personally.

Another half hour passed. The longer Michelle pushed, the more satisfied she sounded. Each time she cried out with a new contraction, her voice lifted and gained strength. To Douglas, it sounded like her pain had turned into triumph. She knew she was making progress and that it wouldn’t be much longer now.

Douglas couldn’t wait.

“Okay, Michelle, the baby is almost crowning. Are you ready?” Dr. Nash looked up at her, his blue eyes kind and understanding. “We’ve got one more push to go. Just one more.”

“One more?” Michelle almost sobbed with relief. “Hell yes, I’m ready. I was ready four hours ago.”

“Then here we go.”

Michelle’s cry echoed in Douglas’ eardrums. She clutched his hand so tightly his fingers were forced to straighten and started to turn red. Douglas watched as Michelle squeezed her eyes shut and screwed up her face from the pressure. Below, Dr. Nash was moving with her, prepared to deliver the baby.

“Good job, Michelle. Keep going. Keep going!” Dr. Nash encouraged.

“You can do it,” Douglas affirmed, thinking it was safe to speak again.

It wasn’t.

Michelle opened her eyes only so she could glare at him. “You did this to me. You stay out of this!”

Douglas shut right back up. Michelle was doing him the biggest favor she could ever do for him, and he was going to respect her wishes.

“Here’s the head. Just a little more. You’ve got this, Michelle. You’re doing a great job.” Dr. Nash worked beneath the covers, but Douglas didn’t dare look. He remained at Michelle’s side, holding his breath.

The baby was coming. He was going to be a father.

“There we go. There we go!” Dr. Nash drew back at the same time that Michelle gasped. She fell back onto the bed, eyes opened, staring at the ceiling. Douglas looked away from her to see what the doctor was doing when his heart stopped.

In the doctor’s arms was a bright red, impossibly tiny human being.

Douglas’ child.

Douglas’ jaw fell open, and he took a small step toward the doctor, overwhelmed. The small person in Dr. Nash’s arms was someone he’d helped bring into the world—someone who shared his genes and who would bear his last name. Love, instant and inescapable, struck Douglas like a truck.

He beamed.

“Congratulations—it’s a boy.” Dr. Nash stepped forward and placed the baby in Michelle’s arms. Michelle cradled him to her chest and dipped her hospital gown down one shoulder to expose a breast. It didn’t take much prompting for the baby to find her nipple and latch on.

Skin wrinkled, head vaguely cone shaped, and body a painful shade of red, Douglas found himself worried. There were patches of a white, creamy substance on the baby’s skin.

“Is he okay, doctor?” Douglas asked. “He’s so red, and there’s that… substance.”

“Vernix,” Dr. Nash said. “It protects the skin. It’s suggested that you rub it in, but if you prefer, we’ll have it washed off when he’s taken away after breastfeeding.”

“No, I…” Douglas hesitated. Hand trembling, he reached out to touch the minuscule human being cradled in Michelle’s arms. When his fingertips landed on the baby’s skin, it was warm. Real. Michelle had really done it. He was a father. “I can do it. I just wanted to make sure it was okay.”

Gentle—more gentle than he’d been with anything else—Douglas rubbed the vernix into his son’s skin. It soaked in without issue, and the baby seemed to enjoy his touch.

Douglas melted.

He’d heard stories about parents falling in love right away, but he’d always thought that it was a Hollywood construct. Now he knew better. The thrill of knowing that he was the father of another person was incredible. He loved his son with everything he had.

“He’s hungry,” Michelle remarked, as she gently lifted him to her breast. “I bet in sixteen years’ time, he’s going to be eating you out of house and home, Dee. You’d better start saving for those groceries right now.”

“Right?” Douglas laughed. “I’ll open a grocery savings account alongside the college account. Good idea.”

They’d both agreed that Douglas would cut the cord, so Dr. Nash saw him through the process, and Douglas did his best not to let his hands tremble.

Then the nurse took him away to be washed, weighed, and dressed. In his absence, Michelle passed the afterbirth.

After, heart pounding so hard against his ribs the beat of it vibrated in his bones, Douglas picked the baby up and held him to his chest. A tiny hand reached up and gripped Douglas’ shirt, the strength remarkable for someone so small.

Douglas melted.

“What’s his name?” Dr. Nash asked.

Douglas smiled. He kept his gaze on the baby in his arms. When he replied, his voice was level and mature in a way it had never been before—fatherhood hit him hard, and Douglas didn’t think he’d ever recover.

He didn’t want to.

“Ian,” Douglas said softly, stroking Ian’s cheek with a single finger. “His name’s Ian.”