Page 444 of The Winslow Brothers

“Ri, I need to check you and see if the baby’s coming, okay?”

I nod fervently. “I’m well past modesty at this point,” I admit easily through my pants. “Please help me. Help the baby.”

He nods immediately, squeezing my hand before he lets it go, swiveling to reposition on his knees. Down between my legs, he eases up the hem of my skirt and props my feet up on his shoulders. As he gently maneuvers my underwear out of the way, the demands of my body cry out again, making me howl into the echoey space so hard I throw my head back until it nearly hits the wall.

Sweat feels sticky on my face, and the cloying heat of this summer blackout isn’t helping a bit, but eventually, I find the strength to lift my head again and meet Remy’s eyes.

And that’s all it takes for me to know the truth—the baby is there. The baby is so there, he or she is practically a third passenger already.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” I kind of want to cry. “I’m really about to have this baby in a fucking elevator, aren’t I?”

Remy nods, his eyes sympathetic and his smile comforting. “I can see a head full of beautiful brown hair.”

“Shit!” I scream, letting my head fall back again and throwing my arm over my face. I knew it was happening—I can very much feel it happening—and still, some small part of me was hoping it wasn’t real.

And then the fear rushes back, making my mind race with all the things I was supposed to do and all the things I’m not sure I’m ready for.

“Oh my God, I don’t think I can do this, Remy!” I grunt, trying to breathe through the urge to push. “I don’t know if I can be a mom to Isabella’s baby, and I still have so much to get done at work. Daniel and Brenda aren’t ready to handle the ship while I’m busy with a newborn and Claudia is completely worthless and I think I need to hold the baby in until I get all my ducks in a row. You know, just, like…a wine bottle with a cork, but only the cork needs to be human-sized and—”

“Maria,”he cuts me off, removing my hand from my face and making me look at him with a gentle press of his fingers to my chin. “Nothing else matters right now. You can do this.”

The pain is still there, so excruciating it makes me wonder how some women willingly sign up to do this more than once. And Iknow my eyes must be wild, like an insane woman who is about to come apart at the seams.

Because, Iam, for all intents and purposes, an insane woman who is coming apart at the seams. One very specific seam is ripping wide open right at this moment, actually.

“Maria, you can do this,” he repeats. “I’m right here, and I’m going to do everything in my power to take care of you both. But I need you to concentrate and push when you have a contraction so we can get the baby out safely, okay?”

As much as I don’t want to, as much as I’d love to be voted off the island right about now, I curl up my abs and lean in to the pressure as my insides light on fire once again. Remy strokes at my ankle, calmly reassuring me the whole time.

“That’s it, Ri. You’re doing it. I canseeyou doing it. The baby’s head is moving down.”

I use every ounce of my strength to finish off my push and collapse back toward the elevator floor as the tension in my abdomen recedes slightly.

“You’ve got this. You’re doing so fucking good, it’s ridiculous,” Remy coaches, moving his hand between my legs again. He tries to be discreet, I can tell, but the feeling of him ripping my underwear completely out of the way under these circumstances is the kind of thing my brain will be trying to sort out for decades. “One more big push, okay? The baby is so close, Ri.”

The next contraction comes, and I do the only thing I can do, I woman the fuck up. Lifting my head, I curl into the pressure and push as hard as I can. The intensity and the burning pain make me scream and grip my legs behind the thighs.

And Remy continues to reassure me with encouraging words while he leans his weight into my feet to help give me leverage without moving from the catcher’s position.

“Keep going, Ri! Keep pushing just like that!”

I scream and I yell and I’m pretty sure I say some things about the pope that I’m going to need to confess the next time I go to church, but within a minute, the most beautiful cry in the world rents the air.

“It’s a girl, Maria,” Remy says, looking down at the wiggly, screaming ball of life in his hands. “A beautiful baby girl.”

“Oh God. Oh my God, it’s a girl,” I cry, tears pouring unchecked down my face. “I did it. I did it, and she’s really here.”

Remy doesn’t hesitate from his position between my legs, cradling the messy baby against his chest to check her nose and mouth the best he can, and then gently passing her up to me and laying her on my chest.

“You’re the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen,” I tell her, and her cries begin to soften. “Welcome to the world, sweetheart.”

There’s a moment then, of complete and utter spirituality. A moment when everything in the world slows and my sister feels so incredibly present. Her sweet baby girl clings to my chest and wraps her fingers around my own, and all I can do is sob. I see casually through my tears that Remy has pushed himself back to the other side of the elevator and settled his back into the wall, wetness on his face too.

I wouldn’t dare categorize it for him, but the raw emotion among the three of us is so powerful, I feel like I’ve been transported to another planet.

“I hope I don’t sound like a dick when I say this, Ri, but my God, I’m so proud of you. And you should be proud of you, too. What you just did…” He shakes his head, and I swear a tear falls down one of his cheeks. “Incredible.”

Just then, there’s a bang on the outside of the shiny golden doors, and the muffled voice of one of New York’s finest calls, “Hello in there! This is the FDNY. Is everyone all right?”

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