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“He really should be an OBGYN.” Landra stripped the cellophane from the tub and removed a plastic pitcher. “I’m going to get you some ice.”

Mackey gave a half-grin. “Were you planning on having an epidural?”

“No.” Caitlin rested a finger between her brows.

“Good, because it’s a little late for that.”

“I don’t believe this.” She laughed, and Tick restrained the desire to punch him, instead rubbing his palm over her lower back. She leaned into him, mirth shaking her shoulders, some of the tension draining from her body. That genuine laugh made him smile.

This wasn’t what they’d planned, but they’d be all right.

Thirty minutes later, she was at ten when Landra checked again, and Mackey returned. Landra laid out a pair of disposable gowns for them, and Mackey studied the monitors a moment before speaking.

“So here’s the deal. There’s a couple of ways to do this. You can start pushing now, with your next contraction, whether you feel an urge or not, or we wait until you feel like you need to push, which probably won’t be long. Cait, you tell me what you want to do.”

Eyes closed, she released a long breath. “I need to.”

“Okay.” Mackey smacked his hands together on a laugh. “Let’s have a baby, then.”

If watching her weather the contractions had been rough, watching her push gutted him, just like watching her bring Eva into the world, just like thinking about her delivering Eleanor alone. Tick knelt behind her, her back against his chest, her fingers wrapped around his. She collapsed into him after her fourth push, sweat-dampened hair clinging to her face. “Holy Mother.”

“You’re doing fantastic, Cait.” Mackey’s grin was tinged with awe. “I’m looking at the top of his head. Just a little longer.”

“You’re amazing, precious.” Tick rested his mouth against her temple. “You’ve got this.”

She gathered her strength for another push. “You’re a dead man when this is over.”

“Tick.” Mackey lifted his gaze. “Grab a pair of gloves and come catch him.”

He froze, torn. He didn’t want to miss the chance to be the first to hold his son, but he couldn’t leave her to do this alone. Caitlin turned her head, breath puffing across his throat. “Go.”

Taking the gloves Landra shoved at him, he shifted off the bed. Landra took his place, and Mackey rose, hunkering beside him once he was on the stool. Tick found himself looking at the top of his baby’s head, damp dark hair in whorls against reddened skin, and Caitlin cried out on her next push, Mackey guiding him to support the head, a small weight in his palms.

“Cait, hang on for me just a second. We’re almost there.” Mackey suctioned the baby’s nose and throat. “Go when you’re ready.”

And on her last push, their son slid into Tick’s shaking hands. Holding his chest, he flipped the baby face down, his gaze darting to Caitlin’s face. With the weight of that small body bearing down on him, her dark, clear gaze locked on his, he rose, their baby’s first cries vibrating into his palm.

Caitlin reached for him, and he pushed the gown to one side, settling their son on her torso. His eyes damp, he watched her stroke his face and down his back, watched his wife become a mother once more. Mackey nudged him, and he moved, bending over Caitlin and their squalling child, pressing his cheek to hers, curving his palm over that tiny head.

“He’s real,” she murmured, exhaustion husking her voice, and he lifted his head, meeting her glittering gaze.

“He is.” He cradled her nape and lowered his head to kiss her. “I love you.”

“Zitto, gioia.” She feathered her fingers over the baby’s head. “He looks like you.”

“His eyes and his chin.” He brushed his thumb across a small cheek. “He has your mouth. Probably be smart like yours, too.”

She laughed, head thrown back, and he wrapped his arm around both of them.

Under her soothing touch, the baby calmed. Tick traced the whorl of an impossibly small ear with his thumb, and his son blinked, the brown gaze so like his own not quite focused yet. His tiny fingers flexed against Caitlin’s skin, mere inches from where Tick’s signature lay on her rib.

He moved his mouth, rooting along her skin, and Caitlin shifted him, drawing him to her breast. Silently, Mackey clamped the umbilical cord. Tick propped a hip behind her, arm around her shoulders, fascinated by this tiny, whole person who existed because Tick loved her, because she loved him.

While the baby nursed, she smoothed his hair, her expression pensive.

“Can we take him for a little bit?” Landra’s quiet voice broke the moment. “I just need to weigh him and let Mackey check him over.”

Caitlin relinquished him, shifting him to Landra’s easy hold. The small frown drawing her brows to a vee deepened, a sharp breath in her throat. Tick rubbed his palm down her spine.