Page 54

Chapter fifty-three

Daphne

The floaty feeling doesn’t last. I was lulled into a false sense of security, because now it hurts. A lot.

One minute, I’m sipping juice and laughing at Hudson. The next, my entire body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. A very large, very mean truck that’s driven directly over my abdomen.

“Okay, okay, okay—nope!” I gasp, gripping the edge of the bed as another contraction rips through me. My earlier blissful haze is gone, replaced by searing, white-hot pain. “Hudson!”

He’s at my side, gripping my hand, his face pale. “What? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay!” I snap, my voice higher than I intended. “It hurts, Hudson! It hurts a lot!”

Dad strides over, his calm presence somehow both infuriating and comforting. “I’ll get the nurse,” he says, already halfway out the door.

Hudson stays glued to my side, his hands hovering awkwardly near mine. “What do I do? Daph, tell me what to do!”

“Don’t just stand there—help me!” I grab his hand, squeezing so hard, his eyes widen in alarm.

“Okay, yeah, helping!” he says quickly, his free hand brushing my hair back from my face. “Breathe, right? They say breathing helps. In and out. Let’s go.”

I glare at him through the pain. “You breathe!”

Another contraction hits, and I let out a guttural groan that I’m pretty sure would terrify small children. Hudson’s hand is still in mine, and I can feel him wincing, but he doesn’t pull away.

The nurse arrives then. “Looks like we’re moving into active labor,” she says, checking the monitor next to my bed. “How’re we feeling, Mom?”

I shoot her a look. “How do you think I’m feeling?”

Hudson, bless his heart, leans toward the nurse and whispers, “I think she means terrible.”

The nurse doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s pretty standard. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.” She glances at me again, her tone softening. “You’re doing great, Daphne.”

Right now, I feel like I’m about to split in half. But I nod anyway and cling to that sliver of encouragement.

Hudson squeezes my hand. “You got this, Daph. You’re a badass, remember?”

I don’t know if it’s the pain or the exhaustion, but his encouragement makes me laugh. It’s short and choked, but it’s there. “Badass,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Sure. That’s me.”

The next hour is a blur of contractions and shouted instructions from the nurse. The room feels too hot, too bright, and I’m certain I’m going to pass out at least twice. But Hudson is there, wiping my forehead with a damp cloth, and saying things like “You’re amazing” and “You’re so much stronger than I am,” which makes me want to simultaneously kiss him and punch him.

Whoever said birth is beautiful and magical are forgetting the parts where it’s also exhausting and painful.

When the nurse announces it’s time to start pushing, my heart leaps into my throat. Panic rises, hot and suffocating.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Hudson says, leaning in close. His voice is low and steady as his hazel eyes lock onto mine. “You’ve done everything else. You’re the strongest person I know, Daph. You can do this.”

The fear doesn’t go away entirely. At this point, I’m sure I’m driven by the adrenaline of fear. But the gentle look on his face, his words, and just him, steady me, make me believe that I can do hard things. I nod, gripping his hand tighter.

The nurse’s voice cuts through the haze. “Alright, Daphne, we’re ready. With the next contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can.”

Push. It seems like such a small word for what I’m about to do. My whole body feels like it’s being ripped apart, and the idea of willingly adding to that is mind-boggling. Almost.

“I can’t,” I whisper again as tears spill over my cheeks.

“Yes, you can,” he says, firmly but gently, his face now inches from mine. “I’m right here with you.”

The sincerity in his eyes melts my last shred of doubt. I nod, wiping at my face with my trembling hand. “Okay. One push at a time.”

“That’s my girl,” he says with a squeeze of my hand.

The contraction builds, and I bear down, every muscle in my body straining. It’s like trying to push a boulder uphill with my bare hands, and I let out a guttural scream that fills the room.

“Good, Daphne!” the nurse encourages. “That’s exactly what we need. Keep going!”

Chest heaving, I collapse back onto the pillows as the contraction subsides. “This is insane,” I mutter, glaring at Hudson. “This is your fault, you know.”

Hudson has the audacity to grin, though there’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “I’ll take the blame. You can yell at me all you want later. Right now, let’s focus on getting the baby here.”

The next contraction comes quickly, and the nurse gives me the signal to push again. This time, I grab Hudson’s shirt with my free hand, pulling him closer as I push again, my entire body shaking with the effort. The nurse’s voice breaks through the fog. “I can see the head! You’re so close, Daphne. One more big push should do it.”

One more. Just one more.

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice shaky but determined. “Okay.”

Hudson brushes the hair from my damp forehead. “You’ve got this, baby. One more.”

The final contraction builds, and I dig deep, pulling every ounce of strength I have left. My scream rips through the air as I bear down, the pain reaching a fever pitch, and then, suddenly, it’s over.

And only a few seconds later, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn has my entire body goes limp. The sound cuts through the exhaustion, replacing it with something overwhelming. Relief. Joy. Disbelief.

“It’s a girl!” the nurse announces, holding up the tiny, squirming baby for a moment before placing her on my chest.

I look down at her, my breath catching in my throat. She’s so small, so perfect, her tiny fists flailing as her cries echo in the room. Her skin covered in things I don’t need to focus on, but she’s so tiny, pink and perfect and all ours. Tears spill down my cheeks as my fingers brush against her soft, wrinkled skin.

“Hi,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Hi, baby girl.”

Hudson is beside me, his hand still holding mine as he stares at our daughter, his eyes wide and shining. Swallowing hard, a faint, teary laugh escapes his lips. “I knew she’d be a girl, I just knew it.” He glances at me briefly, then back to her, as if he can’t bear to look away for too long. “Daphne…she’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. ”

The look on his face almost undoes me. I’ve seen him be playful, funny, sad, and scared, but right now? This is something I’ll treasure forever… He’s falling in love with our daughter, and I get to watch it happen. Okay, now I get the magical part. This…is every bit as magical as I thought it could be.

“Want to hold her?” I ask, my voice still shaky.

His eyes snap to mine, his expression somewhere between excitement and terror. “Can I?”

I nod, smiling through the tears. “Of course. She’s yours too.”

He presses a kiss to my lips, and whispers, “You did so good, princess.”

The nurse helps him position his arms, and he lifts her gently, cradling her like she’s made of glass. His hands dwarf her tiny body, but the way he looks at her makes my heart ache in the best way.

“Hey, little one,” he says softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m your dad. I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

Hudson glances at me, his eyes wet, and I realize I’m crying too.

“We did it,” he says.

***

Dad clears his throat from the doorway, and Hudson and I both glance up to see him standing there, with Mom just behind him. His usual stoic expression is softer, his eyes rimmed with red, as though he’s been holding back tears. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him before, and it catches me off guard.

Mom, on the other hand, wastes no time. She hurries into the room, her hands flying to her mouth as she spots me holding the baby. “Oh my gosh, she’s here!” she exclaims, her voice bubbling with joy.

“Congratulations,” Dad says, stepping farther into the room, his voice quieter than usual. “She’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Hudson replies, his voice still thick with emotion.

I glance at Dad as a tired grin spreads across my face. “Grandpa,” I correct, teasing.

Dad stops by my bedside, letting out a small chuckle as he shakes his head. “Grandpa,” he agrees, the word sounding strange but not unwelcome coming from him. He leans down and presses a kiss on my forehead, his hand brushing my hair gently. “You did good, Daph. I’m proud of you.”

Tears prick at my eyes, and I nod, swallowing back the lump in my throat.

Hudson shifts beside me, his gaze moving from the baby to Dad. “Thanks, Coach. For, you know, everything.”

Dad claps Hudson on the shoulder, and something passes between them, but I don’t get a chance to ask because the door swings open again, and a familiar voice fills the room.

“Well, this is underwhelming. I thought there’d be balloons or at least a banner.”

My head whips toward the door, and there he is. Finn. My twin brother. The one who was supposed to be halfway around the world right now.

“Finn?” I choke out. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re in Australia!”

He steps inside, shrugging like it’s no big deal, his backpack slung over one shoulder and that signature grin plastered across his face. “Not anymore. Thought I’d swing by for the big moment. Looks like I was right on time. Surprise!”

Still trying to process the fact that he’s standing here, I can only blink. “You flew all the way back for this?”

“Duh,” he says, tossing his backpack into the corner like he’s moving in. “What kind of brother would I be if I missed the birth of my niece? Or nephew.” He squints at the baby in my arms. “Which one are we dealing with here?”

“Niece,” I say as I glance down at her.

Finn takes a step closer, his teasing grin fading into something softer as he leans down to get a better look. “Wow,” he says quietly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “You made a human.”

“We did.” I chuckle. He straightens, his gaze flicking to Hudson for the first time. Finn’s head tilts slightly, studying him like he’s sizing him up. “And you must be Hudson,” he says finally, holding out a hand. “The guy who managed to keep my sister sane through this whole thing. Respect.”

Hudson stands and takes my brother’s hand. “And you’re Finn. Daphne talks about you all the time.”

“She does, does she?” Finn says, smirking as he glances at me. “All good things, I hope.”

I roll my eyes, cradling the baby closer. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Finn turns his attention to the baby, his expression softening as he leans down slightly to get a better look. “She’s perfect. Definitely got the better end of the gene pool.” He glances at Hudson with a teasing grin. “No offense, man.”

Hudson raises an eyebrow but smiles. “None taken.”

“Wow,” Finn says again, quieter this time. “She’s tiny. Like, really tiny. How does something that small make such a big entrance?”

I laugh. “She’s not that tiny, trust me.”

Finn tilts his head, his brow furrowing. “You sure? I’ve seen bigger burritos.”

Hudson snorts, but I’m too tired to do more than roll my eyes.

“What’s her name?” Mom asks from across the room.

“Well,” I say, looking at Hudson, waiting to see if he has anything to say first.

“We haven’t decided yet, but I really like Rosie.”

Mom coos, clutching her hands to her chest. “Rosie… That’s perfect. She looks like a Rosie.”

I look at her, those rosy cheeks shining at me, and think maybe she does suit the name. “Rosie…yeah, I think that might be the one.”

Hudson kisses my forehead, and then hers, and it feels final. “We can pick something different if you like.”

I shake my head, stroking her super soft skin. “No, I think Rosie is perfect.”

Our little Rosie girl.