Page 86 of The Decoy

“She’s fully dilated,” Dr. Marsh announces from the end of the bed, her voice calm and efficient as the nurses prep my body. “Ellis, I need you to start pushing. On the next contraction, I need you to take a deep breath, chin to your chest, and push for ten seconds.”

“Can I get a minute?” I whimper, a wave of panic surging through me. “Brody…” I look up at him.

He leans over me, framing my face with his hands. His eyes lock onto mine with determination.

“Look at me, baby,” he commands, his voice rough. “You’re the strongest, fiercest, most brilliant woman on the face of this planet. You can do this. We’re going to meet our boy. Let’s do this together. You and me.”

A fresh tear slides down my cheek, his words hitting me right in the chest. I nod, squeezing his hand until my knuckles turn white. “Together.”

“Okay, Ellis, here it comes,” Dr. Marsh says. “Take your breath. Now.”

I draw in a ragged breath, tuck my chin, and push with every ounce of my strength.

The pressure is unimaginable. It feels like my hips are literally tearing apart, a hot ring of fire consuming my lower body. Brody pulls my upper back up off the pillows, supporting my neck with one arm while holding my knee back with the other, his voice calm and steady in my ear.

“That’s it! Keep going. Push, baby, push! Ten, nine, eight…good. Don’t let go. Three, two, one. Now rest.”

I collapse back against Brody, panting, my lungs feel like their burning as the contraction eases for a brief second. Brody presses a cup of ice chips to my dry lips and wipes the sweat from my forehead with a washcloth.

I continue pushing like this for what feels like hours, even though I know it hasn’t been that long. But I feel like I’m running a marathon that has no finish line.

“Okay, Ellis, he’s making his way down. A few more pushes. I can see a full head of thick dark hair,” the doctor says.

“He’s almost here,” Brody says against my temple. “Give me another good push, Princess.”

As another wave slams into me, I don’t wait. I grab Brody’s shoulder, pull myself up, and push with a primal sound that echoes in the room.

“Yes! That’s it. Don’t stop,” the doctor urges. “Brody, if you’d like to deliver your son, now is the time to get down here.”

Brody doesn’t hesitate. He drops a kiss to my head, then steps to the foot of the bed, his large frame towering over the medical team as they slide gloves on his hands. He looks completely steady, like he’s done this a thousand times, despite the raw emotion on his face.

A nurse replaces Brody and supports my back.

“One more big push, Ellis,” the doctor tells me. “Give it everything you have!”

I bear down with every single muscle in my core.

I feel a massive, sliding release, a sensation of relief, and then⁠—

A sharp, shrill, furious cry echoes through the room.

“I got him!” Brody’s voice cracks. “Baby, I got him!”

I fall back onto the pillows, completely spent, trying to catch my breath. I lift my head, my vision clearing just in time to see my husband holding a tiny, slippery, brown-haired baby boy in his arms as naturally as if he’s holding a football.

His eyes are wide and brimming with unshed tears as the nurses pull down my gown and guide Brody to place the baby directly onto my bare chest.

The minute that my son lies on me, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

His loud cries soften into tiny squeaks against my skin. He shifts his small head, turning toward my voice as I try to soothe him.

“Oh,” I say, feeling the perfect beat of his heart against mine. “Oh, Brody…”

He sits on the side of the bed, burying his face into the side of my neck, his body shaking with quiet sobs. He lifts his head and presses his mouth against my temple, then reaches out a finger and places it under our son’s tiny hand.

The baby immediately wraps his hand around his finger, holding on with surprising strength.

“Brody,” Dr. Marsh says, smiling as she hands him the scissors. “Would you like to cut the cord?”