Epilogue - Carina #2
"Just for a minute. Our son's first moments. Please?"
I nod, too overwhelmed to speak. Knox retrieves his phone, immediately clicking away as the nurses clean Nicholas up and do their tests.
"Ten fingers, ten toes," the nurse reports. "Good lung capacity, obviously. Eight pounds, two ounces. Twenty-one inches long."
"Eight pounds?" I stare at her. "I pushed out eight pounds of baby?"
"Like a champion," Travis says, pressing a kiss to my temple.
They bring Nicholas back, swaddled now in the soft blue blanket my mother sent—she's warming up to the situation, slowly. He's calmer, blinking up at us with unfocused eyes that might be gray or might be blue. Too early to tell.
"Hi, sweetheart," I whisper. "We've been waiting for you."
"Want to hold him?" the nurse asks William, who's been hovering like he's afraid to ask.
"I—yes. If that's—" He looks at me for permission.
"Of course."
William takes Nicholas with the kind of care usually reserved for priceless artifacts. The baby looks impossibly tiny in his arms, and something about seeing my controlled, powerful partner cradling our son undoes me completely.
"Hello, Nicholas," William says softly. "I'm your father. One of them. It's complicated, but you'll figure it out. We're going to love you so much you won't know what to do with it all."
"My turn," Knox says after a minute, making grabby hands.
The handoff is careful, William reluctant to let go. Knox's whole demeanor changes when Nicholas settles against his chest.
"Hey, little man. I'm the dad who's going to teach you all the cool stuff. Art and music and how to properly annoy your Uncle Will—other dad. Whatever. We're still working on titles."
"No turning him against me," William says sternly.
"I’m not turning him against you. He just needs to know what’s what. Right, Nicky?"
Nicholas yawns, apparently exhausted by his grand entrance.
"Travis," I say. "Your turn."
Travis takes him with the ease of someone who actually read all the baby books instead of just buying them. Nicholas fusses for a moment, then settles when Travis starts humming softly.
"That's 'Blackbird,'" Knox realizes. "You're singing the Beatles to our son. I'm so proud right now."
"He likes it," Travis defends, and sure enough, Nicholas seems to be falling asleep.
"Of course he does," I say, reaching up to touch the baby's impossibly soft cheek. "He's got good taste already."
"Like his mother," William says, then looks panicked. "Not that I'm saying you have good taste in a self-serving way. I mean objectively—"
"Will," I interrupt, laughing. "I know what you meant."
"Right. Good. Because—"
"William," all three of us say together.
"Shutting up now."
We stay like that for a while, the five of us in our own little bubble. The nurses come and go, checking vitals and bringing paperwork, but mostly they leave us alone to marvel at what we've created.
"I can't believe he's really here," Knox says, back to filming. "After all the planning and arguing about names and Will's nesting psychosis—"
"It wasn't psychosis. I was being prepared."
"You alphabetized his little onesies by brand and size, Will."
"And your point is?"
"That's not normal!"
"Boys," I interrupt, though I'm smiling. Some things never change. "Not in front of the baby."
"Right. Sorry." Knox grins. "We'll save the bickering for home. Speaking of which, when do we get to break out of here?"
"Twenty-four hours minimum," Nurse Schmidt says, returning to check on us. "Assuming everything continues going well. How's mom feeling?"
"Like I pushed a watermelon through a keyhole," I answered honestly. "But also like I could conquer the world."
"That's the hormones talking. Enjoy them while they last." She smiles at our little group. "I have to say, in twenty years of delivery nursing, you four are one of my favorites. You work well together."
"We've had practice," Travis says.
"Two years of navigating this circus," Knox adds.
"It hasn't been a circus," William protests. "More like a... carefully choreographed dance."
"Will, we had three lawyers draw up the wedding paperwork," I remind him. “Not to mention all the problems we had at the beginning with the media and Dylan. Thank god we sorted through all that. If I never hear from Dylan again, it will be too soon.”
Nicholas chooses that moment to start fussing, the quiet complaints quickly escalating to full cries.
"Someone's hungry," Nurse Schmidt comments. "Would you like help with feeding?"
The next hour is spent figuring out breastfeeding, which is harder than it looks and definitely requires all hands on deck. William reading instructions from his phone, Knox providing unhelpful commentary, Travis actually being useful by adjusting pillows.
"We're really doing this," I say as Nicholas finally latches properly. "We're really parents."
"Having second thoughts?" William asks calmly, but I can hear the worry underneath.
"Never." I look around at my family. "This is exactly where I want to be. Who I want to be with."
"Even though Knox is definitely going to teach him to paint on the walls?" Travis asks.
"Canvas is limiting!" Knox defends.
"Even though William's going to have him on a schedule in a week?" I continue.
"Routines are important for child development," William insists.
"Even though Travis is going to turn him into a Beatles superfan before he can walk?"
"There are worse things," Travis says mildly.
"Even then," I confirm. "Especially then. We're going to raise an interesting kid."
"The most interesting," Knox agrees.
"The most loved," William adds.
"The luckiest," Travis finishes.
Nicholas, apparently satisfied with his meal and his parents' declarations, falls asleep against my chest. Looking down at him, I'm overwhelmed by how much love I feel. For him, for the men surrounding us, for this life we've built.
"Hey," Knox says softly. "You’re crying..."
"Happy tears," I assure them. "The happiest tears."
"Should we call our families?" Travis asks. "Let them know he's here?"
"In a minute," I say. "Let's just... be here. The five of us. Before the world rushes in."
So we do. We sit in the quiet hospital room, snow falling outside the window—because of course it's snowing, it's December in Switzerland—and we marvel at what love can create. Our son. Our family. Our beautifully complicated life.
"Best Christmas present ever," Knox declares.
"It's not Christmas," William points out.
"Close enough. And anyway, every day with you guys feels like Christmas."
"That's the sappiest thing you've ever said," Travis tells him.
"Blame the baby hormones. I think they're contagious."
"There's no such thing as contagious baby hormones," William starts.
"Shh," I interrupt. "Nicholas is sleeping."
And just like that, with those three words, our entire world shifts. Every decision, every moment, every breath will now be measured against what's best for this tiny perfect person.
Nicholas Winter Hale-Montclair. Our victory. Our miracle. Our son.
"I love you all," I whisper, not wanting to wake the baby but needing to say it. "So much."
"We love you too," they whisper back, a chorus of devotion that wraps around us like a blanket.
Outside, the snow continues to fall. Inside, our son sleeps peacefully, surrounded by more love than most people get in a lifetime. And I know, with absolute certainty, that every challenge we faced, every obstacle we overcame, was worth it for this moment.
This family. This love. This perfectly imperfect life.
This is what happily ever after looks like—messy, complicated, and so incredibly beautiful.