Page 72 of Falling For My Best Friend's Brother

Knox shot up from his chair, looking pale. “What does she need to do? What doIneed to do? Should I—”

“Knox,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “shut the fuck up and hold my leg.”

He scrambled into position, brushing his long hair away from his face, his hands trembling slightly as he followed the nurse’s instructions. “Okay, I’ve got you,” he said, his voice cracking. “You’re amazing, Princess. You’ve got this.”

I didn’t have the energy to respond, not when the doctor was telling me to push, and every muscle in my body was screaming in protest. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced—pain, fear, exhaustion, and yet this overwhelming determination to meetthe tiny person who had turned my world upside down before even arriving.

By the time I’d swallowed all the air in the room and my whole body was drenched in sweat, the distinct sound of a baby’s cry echoed in the room. Spent, I fell back against the pillows, trying to catch my breath.

Just then, a nurse placed a tiny sticky bundle on my chest. I stared down at my newborn, my vision blurring because of the tears that were gathering in my eyes. I couldn’t describe the joy I felt just looking at her.

“Oh, God,” Knox breathed as he pressed his head against mine to look at our baby. “She’s marvelous, just like her mother.”

I half-laughed, half-cried, meeting Knox’s eyes. The awe and absolute reverence in them no doubt mirrored mine, and I knew then that he would love our little girl with everything in him until the day he died.

“You did good, princess,” he murmured, placing a kiss on my lips. “You’re such a good girl. Thank you for this gift.”

“Mr. Coleman?” The doctor called. “Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?”

“Fuck yes,” Knox grinned, changing positions.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from my daughter long enough to watch him. She stopped crying and immediately the nurse placed her on my body, as if she somehow knew I was her protector. Her eyes were closed, and she had one of her tiny hands pressed against her lips. A fierce affection swelled from my chest to the rest of my body.

If I’d done anything right in life, it was birthing her. I couldn’t believe I’d once contemplated getting an abortion. This moment right about made up my entire life. I had a husband that absolutely adored me and a child that I would adore for as long as I lived. I couldn’t possibly want anything else.

“If you’re my princess, then it’s only fitting she’s my queen. What do you think?” I lifted my eyes to see my husband smiling down at me.

“Queen.” I murmured, turning the word over in my head. “I like that.”

“For a name?”

“Mhm hmm,” I nodded. “What about Queen, but with an ‘I’ instead of ‘e’?”

“Quinn,” he echoed, then chuckled. “Quinn Coleman. I love it.”

A nurse came then to take the baby away so I could rest. I almost didn’t want to give her away, but my body was too weak. I needed my strength if I was going to spend time with her.

Soon, the doctor ordered me to be moved to a different room and assigned a nurse to help clean me up.

Knox had to leave for a bit during the move. My parents were at the airport, and he had to go pick them up. My mother had been beside herself with worry when Knox called to inform them I’d gone into labor. They’d immediately flown privately to New York, even though Knox had assured her that we could do well on our own. My mother disagreed; I was still too young, and it was my first time.

Lindsay thought so too, considering she was on her way to New York as well.

It was nice to be loved, even if my family was breathing down my neck.

After bathing, I slept for a while and when I opened my eyes, my hospital room was full.

“She’s awake,” my mother whispered urgently, perched on one edge of the bed. “Oh, my baby. I’m so proud of you.” She lowered down to hug me, like I was an invalid who couldn’t sit upright. I hugged her back. My mom had always been dramatic. “How are you?”

“My vagina is torn into shreds, but I’m okay.”

“Give her some breathing space, Angel,” my dad huffed next to her. “You’re crushing the poor thing.”

When my mom let me go, I pushed myself up and looked at my dad. “Hi, daddy.”

He smiled softly, and it was then I noticed how red his eyes were. “Pumpkin. You did it, eh?” He grabbed my hand. “Turned a young guy like me into a grandpa. We’re all so proud of you.”

My dad refused to call himself old even at fifty-four. “Thank you, daddy.”

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