Page 129 of One Reckless Night

He smiled and patted my hand. “Jared will make it. And if it’s me, I promise I won’t look.”

The contractions were relentless. Time seemed to blur together. The nurses and doctors moved around me, their voices calm and reassuring, but all I could think about was Jared. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here?

I couldn’t do this here without him. If I had to have a neurosurgeon deliver my baby, I wanted it to be the best one…my baby’s father.

I cried out, grabbing Shawn’s hand. “Tell the pilot to fly faster!” I shouted.

Shawn grimaced, holding my hand. “He’s coming.”

“Shawn, this is not⁠—”

Pain cut off my words.

The doctor came in. “Let’s see how things are progressing.”

I knew how they were progressing. I felt the urge to push. My body was ready even if I wasn’t.

“Alright, Amelia⁠—”

“No! I can’t. You have to wait.”

The door burst open, and there he was—Jared, his usually immaculate hair disheveled, his gray eyes wild with worry. He was breathing hard, as if he’d run every step from the jet to the clinic. For all I knew, he had.

“Amelia,” he gasped, rushing to my side. His hands were shaking as he reached for me. “I’m here. I’m here now.”

Relief washed over me, and tears streamed down my face. “You made it,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I was so scared you wouldn’t.”

He cupped my face in his hands, his touch both firm and tender. “I’d never miss this,” he said. “Not for anything.”

Shawn cleared his throat quietly and stepped back, giving Jared space. “I’ll wait outside,” he said, his tone both awkward and relieved. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Jared barely acknowledged him, his entire focus on me. He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin. “How are you holding up?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Not great,” I admitted, wincing as another contraction hit. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“I know,” he murmured, brushing my hair back from my face. “But we’re here now. We’ve got this.”

The next contraction hit like a tidal wave. I gripped Jared’s hand so tightly I was sure I’d leave bruises. He didn’t flinch, his steady presence anchoring me.

“Amelia, you’re ready,” the doctor said. “It’s time to push.”

I shook my head, panic clawing at my chest. “I can’t. I’m not—I’m not ready.”

Jared’s voice cut through the fear. “Look at me,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “You can do this. You’re the strongest person I know. Just like we talked about. You’re going to breathe and push.”

His words grounded me. “Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”

The next few minutes were a blur of pain and exertion, Jared’s hand never leaving mine. His voice was a constant in the chaos, urging me on, murmuring encouragement. And then, finally, there it was—a tiny, piercing cry that filled the room.

Our son.

Jared’s breath caught, and for the first time since I’d known him, his composure shattered completely. Tears streamed down his face as he leaned over to press a kiss to my forehead. “You did it,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Amelia, you did it.”

The nurses moved quickly, cleaning and wrapping the baby before placing him in my arms. I stared down at him, my heart swelling with a love so overwhelming it nearly stole my breath. He was perfect—tiny and a little red, but perfect.

Jared leaned over, his eyes shining with tears as he looked at our son. “He’s beautiful,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “He is.”