Page 120 of Hooked On Them

When it passed, I exhaled slowly. “Distract me.”

Carter scratched his chin. “I’ve been thinking about her first birthday party theme. I’m torn between unicorns or princesses.”

“She’s not even born yet.” Dominic looked at him with a bored expression. “And hockey is the answer, obviously.”

We fell into a comfortable rhythm. Conversation flowed easily between contractions, then quiet support during them. The men moved around me in an unconscious choreography, anticipating needs I didn’t know I had. Miles applied ChapStick to my dry lips. Carter refreshed my water. Dominic placed a steady hand on my belly, feeling our daughter move.

“Did any of you ever think we’d end up here?” I asked during a lull. “When we first met?”

Dominic laughed. “I thought you were going to be the coach who ended my career.”

“I thought you were going to be the player who made me lose my job,” I countered.

Miles smiled. “I thought you were the most impressive woman I’d ever met. Still do.”

“I knew.” Carter squeezed my foot. “The moment I saw you on that yacht, I had a vision of you, me, a baby, a future.”

“Bullshit,” Dominic coughed.

“What if I’m terrible at it?” The fear I’d been suppressing bubbled up suddenly. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

Carter grabbed me a tissue. “I have seventeen parenting books in my studio. Plus subscription access to five different child development apps.”

I couldn’t help laughing through my tears. “Of course you do.”

“And I have a lifetime supply of patience,” Miles added.

“And I have enough love for both of you to make up for any mistakes,” Dominic finished, his voice thick.

Another contraction began building, stronger than before, making me grimace.

The door opened as a nurse entered, her expression warm but professional. “Let’s check how we’re doing.” After a quick examination, she looked up with a smile. “You’re at ten centimeters. It’s time to start pushing.”

The air in the room changed instantaneously, alive with nervous energy and anticipation.

“Now?” Dominic’s voice cracked.

I squeezed his hand, another eerily calm wave passing over me. This was it.

As the room suddenly filled with medical staff preparing for my daughter’s arrival, I looked at the three men who had changed my life: Miles’s steady calm, Carter’s enthusiastic support, and Dominic’s emotional wonder.

“Ready to have a baby?” the doctor asked as she entered, already gowned and gloved.

I looked into Dominic’s tear-filled eyes, and Miles and Carter each took one of my hands, and nodded.

“I’m ready.”

* * *

Sophie Josephine Wilson entered the world at 6:42 a.m., weighing seven pounds, one ounce.

And now, three hours later, I couldn’t stop staring at her perfect tiny face. Her impossibly small nose. The rosebud mouth that occasionally made little suckling movements in her sleep. The faintest wisps of dark hair on her head.

Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of the birthing suite, casting everything in a golden glow that felt almost otherworldly. Or maybe that was the post-birth hormones and sleep deprivation talking.

I shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness that seemed to radiate from, well, everywhere. The nurses had said I’d had a textbook delivery, but my body had some colorful opinions about that.

Sophie made a tiny squeak against my chest, and I automatically brought my hand to her swaddled form, marveling at how something so small could feel so monumental.

---