~ Bonus Chapter 4 ~
The Girl
Eva went into labor on a Tuesday afternoon.
It wasn't dramatic. No frantic rush. No movie-scene chaos.
Just a quiet tightening low in her belly while she was folding laundry, the sun slanting gently through the living room windows. She paused, hand pressing instinctively to her stomach, breath catching—not from pain, but from recognition.
"Oh," she whispered. "Okay."
Reed was home within fifteen minutes.
He didn't panic.
He moved with the calm confidence of a man who had done this before—but there was something softer layered beneath it this time, something fragile and reverent. He kissed Eva's temple, murmured reassurances, helped her into comfortable clothes, moved through the house with deliberate steadiness.
Alexander, four years old and endlessly curious, watched from the couch with wide blue eyes.
"Is the baby coming now?" he asked solemnly.
Eva smiled through the contraction, crouching in front of him. "Soon, buddy."
Reed knelt beside her, one hand warm and steady on her back. "You ready to be a big brother?"
Alexander nodded once, serious. "I'll protect her."
Eva's heart nearly split open.
At the hospital, Alexander waited with Eva's parents, clutching Reed's old hoodie—the same one Eva had once worn in college, now repurposed as comfort. He asked questions. Lots of them.
"Will she cry?"
"Will she like dinosaurs?"
"Can she sleep in my room?"
Back in the delivery room, time slowed.
Eva labored with a quiet strength Reed had come to recognize as hers alone—focused, present, grounded. He stayed close, offering water, murmuring encouragement, wiping her forehead, never leaving her side.
When it was time, he held her hand tighter than ever.
"You're doing so good," he whispered, voice thick. "I've got you."
And then—
She was here.
A cry filled the room, sharp and unmistakably alive.
Reed felt it in his chest before he felt it anywhere else.
The nurse lifted their daughter gently, her skin flushed and perfect, tiny fists curled instinctively. She had Eva's dark hair, damp and soft, and Reed's nose—already obvious, impossibly so.
"She's beautiful," Eva breathed, tears sliding freely now.
Reed couldn't speak.
When the nurse placed her in Eva's arms, something in him broke open completely.
This wasn't the sharp, overwhelming emotion he'd felt with Alexander. This was slower. Deeper. Like something ancient settling into place.
"She's ours," Eva whispered.
Reed nodded, eyes shining. "Yeah."
When the nurse asked gently, "Have you decided on a name?"
Reed opened his mouth automatically, already turning toward Eva to ask her again, to do what they always did—decide together, out loud, steady and sure.
Eva didn't hesitate.
"Reina," she said softly.
The room went quiet.
Not awkward quiet.
Not clinical quiet.
The kind of quiet that means something.
Reed froze.
His breath caught so sharply it almost hurt.
Eva turned her head toward him, eyes steady, warm, a little emotional but not unsure. She watched the realization cross his face—shock first, then disbelief, then something dangerously close to grief and gratitude colliding at once.
"Eva," he whispered, voice breaking despite himself. "That was—"
"I know," she said gently. "Your mom."
The nurse smiled, unaware of the gravity of it, simply jotting it down. "Reina Taylor," she said. "That's beautiful."
Reed sank down into the chair beside the bed, one hand covering his mouth, the other reaching instinctively for Eva's knee like he needed to anchor himself to something solid.
"You didn't have to do that," he said hoarsely.
Eva shifted slightly so Reina rested more comfortably in her arms. "I wanted to."
He looked at their daughter—at the tiny curve of her cheek, the softness of her mouth, the way she slept so peacefully—and something inside him finally let go of a pain he'd been carrying for years.
"She would've loved her," Reed murmured.
Eva reached for his hand. "I think she already does."
Reed leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Eva's, breathing her in, grounding himself in the woman who had somehow learned his heart so thoroughly she knew how to honor the parts that still ached.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Eva smiled softly. "She's part of our family too."
Reed kissed Eva's temple, then Reina's hair, reverent.
"Welcome home, Reina," he said quietly.
And for the first time since he was a boy, the name didn't hurt.
It healed.
Later, when Alexander was finally allowed into the room, he stepped forward carefully, reverently, as if the air itself demanded gentleness.
He climbed onto the chair beside Eva, peering into the blanket.
"She's little," he said in awe.
Eva laughed softly. "She is."
Alexander reached out one finger, brushing Reina's tiny hand. Her fingers curled around his instantly.
Reed's breath caught.
Alexander beamed. "She likes me."
Reed knelt beside him, arm slipping around his shoulders. "She loves you."
That night, when the room was quiet and the world had narrowed to the soft rise and fall of breathing bodies, Reed lay beside Eva, one arm draped protectively over her and Reina, listening to their daughter's tiny sighs.