Page 147 of Promised to the Cowboy

I don’t.

My place is with Evie.

Then the doctor says, “One more.”

Evie makes a sound I will hear for the rest of my life.

She bears down, and suddenly I hear a cry, small, sharp, and furious.

The world stops.

Our daughter screams again, and my knees nearly give way.

Evie starts crying before the doctor even lifts her. “Is she okay?”

“She’s perfect.”

The nurse places a tiny, red, outraged body against Evie’s chest.

Our daughter. Dark hair plastered to her head. Eyes squeezed shut. Fists clenched as though she’s arrived prepared to fight every person in the room.

Evie’s hands shake as they settle around her. “Oh,” she whispers.

That one sound contains everything.

I stand beside them, unable to move. Unable to breathe.

The baby’s cries soften when Evie speaks to her. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Our daughter turns toward the sound. Toward her mother.

Alive. Evie is alive. Our daughter is healthy. The realization hits so hard that I have to grip the side of the bed.

Evie looks up at me. “Gabe.”

I can’t answer.

Her expression softens. “Hey.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.”

“I’m not.”

Tears blur everything. I’ve cried more in the last few months than in the previous thirty years put together.

“She’s here,” I manage.

“She is.”

“And you’re—” My voice breaks.

Evie reaches for me. I bend over them, and she catches the back of my neck, pulling my forehead to hers, our daughter tucked between us.

“I’m here,” she whispers.

I close my eyes. Her words move through every frightened place inside me.