Page 120 of Worth the Fall

We find Celine's room easily, following the sound of her controlled breathing. Mark looks up when we enter, relief washing over his face. "Thank God you're here."

I move immediately to Celine's side, taking her hand. Three years ago, I never would have imagined being here—holding myhusband's ex-wife's hand as she prepares to give birth. But life has a funny way of reshaping your expectations.

"How are you doing?" I ask, squeezing her fingers.

"Been better," she manages through gritted teeth. "But at least this time I know what to expect. How's Felicity?"

"Excited to meet her brother," Miguel assures her, stepping to her other side. "Though fair warning—she's already planning his princess training program."

This pulls a laugh from Celine despite her discomfort. "Of course she is."

The next few hours pass in a blur of ice chips and encouragement. Mark proves to be as steady as Miguel was during Esperanza's birth, never leaving Celine's side. And when their son finally arrives, his angry newborn cry filling the room, we're all crying happy tears.

"He's perfect," Celine whispers, cradling him close. "Alexander James."

I watch Miguel meet our daughter's baby brother for the first time, his face soft with wonder. He's come so far from the hurt and anger of their divorce, found his way to this beautiful place of genuine joy for her happiness.

"Want to hold him?" Mark offers, and I'm surprised to realize he's talking to me.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," Celine says warmly. "You're family."

The word hits me right in the chest as I carefully take Alexander. He's tiny and perfect, his dark eyes blinking up at me curiously. "Hello, little one," I whisper. "You've got quite the family waiting to meet you. We love you so much already little angel.”

Later that morning, we bring Felicity to meet their brother at the hospital. Deciding it will be better to let Esperanza meet him once Celine is home with him and a little more rested. Felicityapproaches the hospital bed slowly, her usual exuberance tempered by awe.

"He's so small," she breathes, reaching out to touch his tiny hand. "Hi, Alex. I'm your big sister.

I lean against Miguel as we watch them, his arm warm around my waist. "Look at our girl," I murmur. "She's amazing."

"Just like her bonus mom," he says softly, pressing a kiss to my temple.

When we finally get home that evening, exhausted but happy, we find Esperanza and her grandmother in the kitchen making cookies. The counter is covered in flour and sprinkles, and there's icing in Esperanza's hair, but her face lights up when she sees us.

"Did baby come?" she asks excitedly. "Is he sparkly?"

I scoop her up, not caring about the mess. "He's here, and he's perfect. Want to see a picture?"

She nods enthusiastically, and we spend the next few minutes showing her photos of her new baby brother. "Can we make him picture?" she asks. "With extra glitter?"

"Tomorrow, baby," I promise, sharing an amused look with Miguel. "For now, how about we finish these cookies?"

Later that night, after both girls are finally asleep, I find Miguel in our bedroom looking at old photos on his phone. "What's got you feeling nostalgic?" I ask, curling up beside him.

He shows me the screen—it's from our wedding day, Felicity beaming between us in her flower girl dress. "Just thinking about how lucky I am," he says. "How perfectly everything worked out."

I look at the photo, remembering that day and everything that led to it. The pickleball incident, the coffee dates, the way Felicity stole my heart before I even realized what was happening. Every step, every moment—even the hard ones—brought us here.

"We did good, didn't we?" I say softly.

"We did amazing," he corrects, pulling me closer. "And we're just getting started."

He's right. This is just another chapter in our story—one filled with partner track celebrations and newborn snuggles, princess tea parties, and family game nights. There will be challenges ahead, moments when balancing it all feels impossible. But we'll face them together, just like we always have.

Because that's what families do. Even the perfectly imperfect, glitter-covered, beautifully blended ones like ours.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

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