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Her eyes are filled with unshed tears, but she nods. The stubbornness that I fell in love with long before I realized I was falling is front and center, and I’m doing everything I can to support her.

“Again,” Dr. Alvarez says. “I can see the top of his head. He has a lot of dark hair, Dixie. Push on this next one, and give me everything you can.”

The next contraction hits, and Dixie doesn’t hesitate. Knowing how close we are to meeting our boy gives her a second wind. Well, more like a seventh, but I just hold her, helping as much as I can.

“He’s crowning,” the doctor says. “Don’t stop, Dixie. Just a little more.”

“Come on, baby,” I whisper, staring in amazement as I see a little head come into view. “I can see him, Dixie. He’s beautiful.”

She screams, and there’s a sudden, wet rush. The baby’s head slips free, and Dr. Alvarez moves with practiced ease, checking him over before looking back up at us.

“One more quick push, Dixie, and you’re done,” he says.

Dixie pants, her eyes wide and unfocused, but she gathers up the last of her strength and gives a sharp heave. The baby slips completely into the doctor’s waiting hands, and for a fraction of a second, the room is completely silent.

My heart stops, waiting and suspended in the cool air, but then the sharp, angry cry of a newborn fills the space. A tiny, furious sound that turns into a full-throated cry.

He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s here.

A thick knot swells in my throat, and it’s difficult to breathe. Tears sting at the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. This isn’t about me. It’s about Dixie and our son.

“We have a healthy baby boy,” Dr. Alvarez declares, a wide smile on his face as he lays him on Dixie’s chest.

Dixie lets out a sobbing laugh, her arms wrapping around him as Brenda cleans out his nose, eyes, and mouth with a little suction device before wiping him over. He squirms and screams a bit before settling down, and I slowly release her thigh.

“Would the father like to cut the cord?” Dr. Alvarez asks.

My throat is dry, but I nod. “Yes.”

I step closer to the bottom of the bed, and he hands me a pair of heavy scissors. My hands shake slightly, and I hate how nervous I am. I never get nervous.

“Right between the clamps,” he says, pointing at the cord.

Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and slide the blades around it. Snip. That’s all it is.

This is beyond surreal.

I brush her hair from her forehead and can’t stop smiling. “He’s perfect. You did so good, Dixie. I’m so proud of you.”

Dr. Alvarez works between her legs, and I should be concerned. I should be asking questions, but I don’t care. All I can see is my girl holding our boy.

He’s finally here.

A younger resident doctor with slicked-back hair that could use a cut steps into the room. “Mind if I handle the sutures, Dr. Alvarez?”

“Dixie, do you mind if we have our resident stitch you up? Give him some practice? I’ll be right here the entire time,” Dr. Alvarez asks.

“Go for it,” she says, her smile and gaze fixated on the baby in her arms.

The man steps into place between her legs, and something about him rubs me the wrong way. He’s too cocky for a resident.

“Well, Dad,” he says, “since we have to do a few stitches anyway, I can put an extra one in for you. Keep things nice and tight, if you know what I mean. We call it the husband stitch.”

Dr. Alvarez’s eyes widen, and Dixie’s do, too. The words hit me like a slap, and I’m immediately pissed. Furious. The blood roars in my ears.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I ask, my voice a low growl as I glare at him.

“Everything okay?” Zep asks, stepping into the doorway wearing his leather.