Epilogue #2
He startles slightly, then relaxes as my arms wrap around his waist. “Just thinking.” He leans back against my chest. “It’s really happening, isn’t it? In two weeks, there’ll be a baby in this crib.”
“Our baby,” I correct, the words still feeling surreal on my tongue. “Our daughter.”
I rest my chin on his shoulder, both of us staring at the empty crib that will soon hold Daphne’s child—our child.
The memory of that day three months ago washes over me with perfect clarity.
Daphne sitting across from us at the clinic after hours, her hands protectively cradling her swollen belly as she worked up the courage to ask the question that would change all our lives.
“I want you to raise her,” she’d said, voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “You and Zach. I’ve thought about it for months, and there’s no one else I trust more.”
Xavier had gone completely still beside me, his hand tightening around mine as the implications sank in.
“Daphne,” he’d finally managed, “are you sure? This is… this is your daughter.”
“And she deserves the best life possible,” Daphne had replied, determination replacing her uncertainty.
“A life I can’t give her right now. Not with Jason’s family still out there, and not with me still trying to figure out who I am.
” She’d taken a deep breath. “But you two, you’re stable, you’re established.
You saved my life. And I’ve seen how you look at each other, how you take care of each other. That’s what I want for her.”
Now, standing in this carefully prepared room, the weight of that responsibility settles over me anew. Xavier turns in my arms, his eyes searching my face in the dim light.
“Are you scared?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Terrified,” I admit, the honesty coming easier in the predawn darkness. “But not enough to change my mind.”
He smiles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Me too. Both parts.”
I press my forehead against his, breathing him in. “We’ve faced down rival MCs, hospital boards, you being held hostage and me almost dying. A baby can’t be harder than all that.”
His laugh is soft but genuine. “Keep telling yourself that, especially at three a.m. when she won’t stop crying.”
“We’ll take shifts,” I promise, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Just like stakeouts.”
“Somehow I doubt your tactical experience will translate directly to diaper changes,” he teases, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes my chest tighten.
“You’d be surprised what skills transfer,” I counter, guiding him toward the rocking chair. I sit first, pulling him down onto my lap. He comes willingly, settling against me with a sigh. “Besides, I’ve been practicing on that creepy doll your sister gave us.”
“It’s not creepy, it’s anatomically correct for diapering practice,” he corrects, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the gentle motion of the rocking chair nearly lulling us both back to sleep. Xavier’s fingers trace abstract patterns on my forearm, his breathing gradually slowing.
“We need a name.” His voice is thick with approaching sleep.
“We’ve been through a dozen baby name books,” I remind him. “Nothing felt right.”
“Maybe we need to meet her first,” he suggests. “See who she is.”
I nod against his shoulder, thinking of all the possible futures stretching out before us. School plays and skinned knees, teaching her to ride a bike, and eventually threatening her first date. A life so far removed from the violence and chaos of my past that it sometimes feels like a dream.
“Zach?” Xavier’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“What if I’m not good at this?” The vulnerability in his question catches me off guard. Xavier, who faces medical emergencies with unflinching calm, who stood up to an entire hospital board, afraid of failing at fatherhood?
“You’ll be amazing,” I tell him, absolute certainty in my voice. “You’re already amazing with your patients, with the kids at the clinic. This will be different, but that part of you, the part that cares, that heals, that’s what matters.”
“And you?” he asks, turning slightly to see my face. “The enforcer as a dad?”
I consider this, the question I’ve asked myself countless times since Daphne’s proposal. “I think… I think she’ll make me better. Give me a reason to be more careful, more present.” I press a kiss to his hair. “Like you did.”
He relaxes against me, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “We should try to get some sleep,” he grumbles, making no move to get up. “Clinic opens in five hours.”
“Few more minutes,” I negotiate, tightening my arms around him. “Just want to sit here a little longer.”
In the quiet of the nursery, with Xavier’s weight solid and warm against me, I allow myself to imagine the life that awaits us. Not just the two of us anymore, but three. A family built on choice rather than blood, on love rather than obligation.
“Two weeks,” Xavier whispers, already half asleep. “Everything changes.”
“Everything already has,” I reply softly, watching the first hints of dawn lighten the sky outside the nursery window. “For the better.”
* * *
Xavier
The phone rings at exactly three forty-seven a.m., jolting me from a deep sleep. Zach is already reaching for it before I can fully register what’s happening, his reflexes sharper than mine even when half conscious.
“It’s time,” he says, suddenly wide awake as he listens to whoever’s on the other end. He squeezes my shoulder. “Daphne’s in labor. They’re at Mercy General.”
I’m out of bed in an instant, adrenaline clearing away the fog of sleep. “How far apart are her contractions? Has her water broken?” The doctor in me takes over automatically, cataloging everything we might need.
“Shay says she’s already at eight centimeters. Baby’s coming fast.” Zach is pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, his movements efficient and precise despite the early hour. “They barely made it to the hospital.”
“Eight?” I repeat, surprise momentarily freezing me mid-motion. “That means she’s been in labor for hours. Why didn’t she call sooner?”
Zach gives me a look that’s half exasperation, half fondness. “Maybe because she’s eighteen and terrified? Get dressed, X. Our daughter’s about to be born.”
Our daughter. The words still send a jolt through me every time I hear them. I grab the clothes I laid out last week for exactly this moment, comfortable jeans and a soft button-down that won’t irritate a newborn’s sensitive skin. Practical clothes for what might be a long day.
“The bag,” I remind Zach, who’s already one step ahead of me, hefting the duffle we packed with everything Daphne might need for her hospital stay.
“Got it. Keys are on the hook. I’ll warm up the truck.”
He’s gone before I can respond, footsteps heavy on the stairs. I take a single deep breath, steadying myself against the dresser. This is happening. After months of preparation, legal paperwork, and nursery decorating, our daughter is about to enter the world.
I find Zach in the garage, the truck’s engine already rumbling. The clock on the dashboard reads 3:53 AM when I slide into the passenger seat. Six minutes from dead sleep to on our way. Not bad for soon-to-be parents.
“Nervous?” Zach asks as we pull out of the driveway, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“Terrified,” I admit, watching the familiar streets of our town slip by in the darkness. “You?”
His hand finds mine across the console, fingers interlacing with ease. “Beyond words.”
We drive in silence after that, the weight of what’s happening settling between us like a physical presence. Daphne moved into the club’s guest house two weeks ago so we could be close when this moment arrived. Shaylin has been staying with her, acting as both protection and support.
The hospital parking lot is nearly empty at this hour, making it easy to find a spot near the entrance.
As we walk through the automatic doors, I feel a strange sense of déjà vu.
How many times have I entered this building as a doctor, confident and in control?
Now I’m just a terrified soon-to-be parent, as helpless as any other civilian.
The maternity ward is quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors and the occasional voices of night-shift nurses. Shaylin meets us in the family waiting area, her usual composed demeanor slightly frayed around the edges.
“She’s doing great,” she tells us immediately, correctly reading the concern on our faces. “The doctor says everything’s progressing normally, just quickly. She’s asking for you, Xavier.”
“Me?” I’m surprised despite myself. Daphne and I have grown close over the course of her pregnancy, but I assumed she’d want Shaylin with her during the actual birth.
“She wants her doctor,” Shaylin says with a small smile. “And the father of her baby. Room three hundred seven.”
Zach squeezes my hand once before letting go. “Go. I’ll be right here.”
I find Daphne propped up in the hospital bed, face flushed and hair damp with sweat. Her eyes, bright with pain and determination, find mine as I enter.
“You came,” she says, relief evident in her voice.
“Of course we came.” I move to her side, doctor’s instincts taking over as I check the monitors displaying her vitals and the baby’s heart rate. Everything looks good, strong, steady rhythms despite the stress of labor. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m being torn in half,” she admits with a grimace that quickly transforms into a gasp as another contraction hits. I offer my hand without thinking, and she grips it with surprising strength, her nails digging half-moons into my palm.
“Breathe through it,” I coach, falling back on my medical training. “That’s it. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
When the contraction passes, she collapses back against the pillows. “I can’t do this,” she whispers, suddenly looking very young and scared. “I’m not strong enough.”