He doesn’t even flinch. “Let’s get you checked in.”
The next thing I know, I’m in a bed with monitors strapped to my belly, and a doctor is standing at the foot of it.
“Well, Savannah,” she says calmly, “it looks like these little ones are ready to make their debut.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “It’s too soon. They’re not ready.”
“They’re safer out,” she says gently. “Trust me on this.”
I glance at the guys, who are hovering like nervous bodyguards.
“Jamie?”
He steps forward, taking my hand again. “Yeah, baby?”
“I don’t think I can do this.”
“Bullshit,” he says, his voice steady. “You’re the strongest person I know. And these kids? They’re Christmas miracles. They’re gonna be okay. We all are.”
Hours pass in a blur of pain and panic. Troy wipes my forehead with a damp cloth, Jared whispers reassurances in my ear, and Jamie keeps making terrible jokes to distract me.
“What’s the first thing a snowman orders at a bar?” he asks, grinning like a fool.
I glare at him. “If you tell me a fucking pun right now, I will end you.”
“Chill beer.”
“Oh my God. I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
When the doctor announces that the first baby is on the way, I start sobbing.
“I can’t do this,” I choke out.
Jared leans in close. “Yes, you can. Look at me, Sav. You can.”
“Jared…”
“Just breathe, okay? In and out. That’s it. You’ve got this.”
Minutes later, the room erupts into activity. The first cry breaks through the chaos, and I lose it completely.
“It’s a boy!” the doctor announces, holding up the tiniest baby I’ve ever seen.
“A boy,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face.
Jamie laughs, loud and relieved. “Hell yeah, a boy!”
“He’s perfect,” Troy says, his voice thick with emotion.
“He’s so small,” I whisper, staring at the tiny bundles in the nurse’s arms.
“He’s so strong,” Jared counters, brushing a kiss against my forehead. “Just like you.”
Jamie grins down at me. “Christmas miracles, right?”
I nod, too overwhelmed to speak.