Page 80 of Love You Too

Trix closesher eyes when Taylor Swift sings the opening lines of “Lover.” Attached to a small speaker near the hospital bed, my phone works through a playlist I made weeks ago.

“How did you know exactly which songs I’d want to hear? This is perfect,” Trix coos, reaching for my hand without opening her eyes. She knows exactly where to find me because I haven’t left her side for the past two hours.

Two long hours of labor, and there’s no baby in sight.

“I’ve been keeping a list, actually.” I don’t mind divulging my secrets to winning her heart, at least some of them.

Her eyes pop open. “Really? For how long?”

“Pretty much since I saw you at Oxbow that day.”

She shakes her head and gives me a lazy smile. “Who could’ve known that day that we’d be bound together?”

I don’t waste a second answering.

“Me. I knew it then, and I know it even more now.”

Trix squeezes my hand, and my eyes alternate between hers and the line on the monitor that keeps spiking each time she has a contraction. They’re still over two minutes apart, but they’ve been getting closer together over the past two hours. I watch her face screw up as the contraction rips through her, and she sucks in a slow breath and lets it out in a whoosh.

Even with the epidural, she still feels them. I can tell by how hard she’s gripping my hand. “Do you need more pain meds?”

I expect a nod or shake of her head, but Trix, in her usual fashion, has a long explanation. “The epidural is helping a lot, but you heard the nurse. I need to feel some sensation so I can push when it’s time,” she huffs out as she breathes through the contraction.

“Yeah. Is it time?” I ask, even though I know her guess is as good as mine until the nurse measures how effaced she is.

“You’d think,” she grits out.

The contraction finishes, and Trix turns her head to smile at me. “Whew. Better. Is everyone still here?” She means her family.

It’s three in the morning, and her siblings have all been sitting in the waiting area since we called to say we were headed to the hospital. “Last I checked. I can tell them to come back in the morning,” I offer.

“They won’t leave. They’re stubborn like that.”

A laugh barks out of me before I can stop it. Trix narrows her eyes at me, but then she rolls them. “Yeah, it runs in the family.”

The door to the labor room swings open, and our nurse walks in. She snaps on a pair of gloves. “I saw you had another good contraction. They’re getting closer together. Let’s see how dilated you are.”

I stay near the head of the bed while she measures with her fingers and meets our eyes with a satisfied look. “I’m going to call your doctor. You’re fully dilated, plus one. Get ready to push when she gets here.”

A nervous surge runs through me. It’s like no pregame jitters I’ve ever experienced. Suddenly, all the stress about wins and losses pales in comparison to this moment. We’re about to meet our baby. Trix is bringing life into the world, and I’m nervous as hell.

I sink onto the rolling stool, lean my elbows on my knees, and support my forehead with my hands.

“You okay?” Trix asks, side-eyeing me from the bed.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“You don’t look good.”

I can’t do this to her. I mean, yeah, I feel like someone gut punched me, and if I was on the ice, I’d be looking for somewhere to take out my aggravation. But I’m here in the delivery room with the most amazing woman in the world, and I need to man up. I need to be there for her.

I swallow back the wave of nausea that hits my throat and sit up. “I’m good. What can I do for you?”

“Hold my hand. Now that this is happening, I’m nervous.”

Wheeling over to her on the stool, I extend my hand and clasp it around hers. “You’ve got this. And I’m here. Whatever you need, for as long as you need it, I’m here.”

“Once more, puuush,”Doctor Salinger says, her hands shoved under the blue modesty sheet laying over Trix’s lap. She’s been pushing for over an hour and I glance at Trix’s face, which is bathed in sweat as she pushes and squeezes my hand.

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