Page 36 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)

“Push,” I encouraged, one hand supporting the emerging head. “You’re doing beautifully.”

In a rush of movement and fluid, our daughter slid into my waiting hands. I was struck by how impossibly light yet substantial she felt.

Tiny, slippery, and perfect. A breathless moment of silence, then a fierce, indignant wail filled the room.

“She’s here,” I whispered, my vision blurring as I laid her on Kayla’s chest. I covered them both with a towel. My hands trembled as I wiped the baby’s face. “She’s beautiful.”

As Kayla’s arm curved protectively around our daughter, her beautiful face crumbled. Tears spilled silently down her cheeks, carving glistening paths across her flushed skin.

I kissed them away, tasting salt, only to realize my own vision had blurred with moisture. “She’s perfect,” I whispered, brushing a fingertip over our daughter’s head. “I love you, Michaila. So much.” My voice broke on her name. “Thank you for this gift.”

We remained huddled together, our new family of three. The sound of the waves against the shore below and the murmur of family members faded to insignificance.

Reality intruded with the distant whine of helicopter blades, growing steadily louder until it seemed to shake the foundation of the house. Moments later, the paramedics swept in with their equipment.

“She’s got an APGAR of 9.8,” one announced, a woman with kind eyes and capable hands. Her tone suggested this was exceptional news.

I nodded as though I understood perfectly, though it meant nothing to me in that moment. When she extended the surgical scissors toward me, indicating the umbilical cord, my hand trembled visibly.

“Go on,” Kayla encouraged.

As I severed the physical connection between mother and child, the tears came again, unashamed and unstoppable.

A few hours later, we were settled in one of the bedrooms at Thalassía. Kayla had firmly refused transport to the hospital, despite my anxious protests.

To ease my own fears, I’d arranged for a doctor and nurse to come to the island. They checked on Kayla periodically, calming my racing thoughts.

She reclined against a nest of pillows, her wild curls gathered into a loose bun.

The pallor had left her face, replaced by serene exhaustion, making her more beautiful than ever.

Beside the bed stood a bassinet where our daughter slept, tiny fists clenched as though already preparing to take on the world.

Each time I looked at her—which was approximately every thirty seconds—my heart seized with a nameless intensity, threatening to shatter me from within. Yet I welcomed this overwhelming tide of love and protectiveness.

“Did you mean it?” Kayla’s voice was soft in the hushed room.

I looked up from our daughter’s sleeping form. “Mean what?”

“You said you loved me.” Her eyes held mine. “And I got your email right as my labor started.”

In the whirlwind of our daughter’s birth, I’d completely forgotten about the email. My pulse quickened.

“I didn’t get to read it until just now.” Her voice wavered, and she reached for my hand. “K, when you wrote that each day without me felt like navigating a city whose map had suddenly changed...” She took a shaky breath, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “That’s exactly how I felt without you.”

She clutched my hand tighter. “Even before I’d read what you wrote, I knew I couldn’t have our daughter without you. But seeing those words, knowing you felt so deeply…it’s everything I’ve been afraid to hope for.”

“Every word was true,” I said, moving to sit beside her on the bed, taking her hand between both of mine. “My love for you, Michaila, is the most honest thing I know. I should have told you long before today.”

I paused, struggling to find the right words. “Expressing my feelings has never come easily to me.”

My thumb traced circles on her palm. “But watching you bring our daughter into the world, I realized how foolish I’ve been. You’re the blood in my veins, the rhythm of my heart, the breath in my lungs.”

Kayla’s face lit up through her tears, and she reached up to touch my face with trembling fingers.

“K, I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words for so long.

” Her eyes danced with a mixture of joy and wonder.

“I love you too. I wasted so much time being angry.” She moved closer.

“We could have had these months together.”

“Shhh.” I leaned forward, pressing my lips to hers. “Nothing was wasted. On the last day of my life, I will look back on today and count it among my greatest blessings—the day I became a father and your husband in the truest sense of the word.”

“I missed you so much, K.” Her words were a confession against my lips. “I need all of you.”

From the bassinet came a soft, questioning sound, drawing our attention like a magnetic force.

“I want to name her Thalia Jeanette,” Kayla said softly, her gaze drifting to our daughter. “Jeanette was my mother’s name.” Her voice wavered. “And Thalia... in honor of Theo.”

My heart swelled at her thoughtfulness. “Thalia.”

I looked down at our daughter, her tiny features peaceful in sleep. Theo had never had the chance to have a family of his own, but now a part of him would live on in this perfect being we’d created.

“You would honor him this way?”

“He gave up his life for yours.” She squeezed my fingers. “Our daughter should know about the people who shaped your life, who made you the man I fell in love with.”

I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles as I struggled to compose myself. “It’s perfect,” I said. “Our little TJ.”

“TJ,” Kayla repeated, testing the nickname. Her smile was radiant. “I love it.”

“My little girl. My family. I will always, always put you and our daughter first,” I vowed.

She reached up, curling her hand around the nape of my neck, and drew my face to hers. “I believe you,” she whispered against my lips.