Page 146 of Promised to the Cowboy

“Closer.”

I bend until my forehead touches hers.

Her palm settles against the side of my face. “This is not what happened to your parents.”

The words knock the air from my lungs. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Her thumb moves over my cheek. “You’re waiting for history to repeat itself.”

I close my eyes. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No.” Her voice softens. “But I’m here. Our daughter is almost here. And you need to stay in this room with us instead of standing like a ghost in one that existed thirty years ago.”

My throat closes. Evie always has a way of finding the truth I’m trying not to see.

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”

She kisses me. “Keep trying.”

Another contraction rises.

The doctor checks her again, then looks up. “It’s time.”

Nurses move closer, equipment shifts, and the head of the bed lifts.

Evie’s grip turns fierce.

I move beside her shoulder. “You’ve got this, Lightning.”

She laughs once, breathless. “If you call me that again while I’m pushing a melon out of my womb, I will divorce you.”

“Noted.”

“Push,” the doctor says.

Every muscle in Evie’s body tightens as she bears down. I hold her hand and count because somebody told me to count, though I lose track somewhere after six.

She collapses back against the pillows, gasping. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

She turns her head toward me. “You do it.”

“I lack the necessary equipment.”

That gets a broken laugh from her.

Then another contraction takes her, leaving no room for anything except effort. She pushes. Stops. Pushes again.

The doctor says something encouraging.

A nurse tells me to look.