Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
I’m about to be a mom .
As the contractions intensify, I squeeze Quintin’s hand, his other arm hooked under my knee, my breath catching. He offers a reassuring smile, his eyes shining with emotion. “You’re doing so well. You’re so beautiful.”
I nod, trying to focus on his voice as I follow the nurse’s guidance, the room filled with quiet anticipation.
Each push brings us closer to the miracle that’s about to unfold.
Quintin remains by my side, as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, even as I crush the poor man’s hand.
As the contractions reach their peak, I feel a surge of determination, pushing through the discomfort with Quintin’s encouraging words echoing in my ears.
And then, finally, after what feels like both an eternity and a fleeting moment, our baby’s cries fill the air, the sweet sound of life announcing its arrival.
Tears well in my eyes as the nurse places this precious bundle in my arms—a perfect, tiny miracle.
I take deep gulps of air as I try to calm my sobs so I can take a good look.
I gaze down at our baby, overwhelmed with awe. Just a few moments ago, this baby lived inside me. This little accident changed my entire life. Our entire lives.
Quintin’s eyes mirror my emotions as he looks at the baby, his fingers brushing against its delicate cheek.
“You did it, Dani,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and joy.
“I’m so fucking proud of you. So honored.
” His voice catches as he swipes a tear that made its way down his cheek.
Tears of my own stream down my face as I nod, unable to find the words to express the depth of my emotions.
This moment, this connection, is beyond words—it’s a testament to the love that has grown between us, defying odds and expectations.
We found each other, chose each other, and that’s the greatest gift I’ve ever given or been gifted.
As the nurse tends to our baby, a sense of calm washes over me, even as I watch the nurse’s every move. Quintin steps over to take photos and cut the umbilical cord, and I can’t help the silent tears as I watch his entrance into fatherhood.
A few hours later, as we settle into our hospital room, Quintin cradles our baby in his arms, his expression one of pure awe and adoration. I watch them, my heart swelling with gratitude for the man who stood by me, who chose to be here every step of the way.
Any man can step up for his own child, but this man chose us, every day. Even when it scared him, he showed up. When he fucked up, he made it right, more than I could’ve imagined another person could do.
The nurse approaches us with a warm smile, paperwork in her hands. “So, have you decided on a name for your little one?”
We’d discussed options for each gender, what we thought sounded good versus what could be turned into a weird nickname that would make me want to fight little kids.
But I have a secret.
I exchange a glance with Quintin, and he nods encouragingly. “We have,” I reply, my voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions.
“And what is it?” the nurse asks, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.
I take a deep breath, a smile tugging at my lips. “Alejandra,” I say softly, the name carrying both significance and hope. It was my grandmother’s name. “Alejandra Gloria Lavigne.”
I never told him what the baby’s last name would be. We never talked about anything outside of the fact that this is our baby. Since she’s as much his as mine, she should have the same last name as her father.
Quintin’s eyes widen, glistening with unshed tears as he comes to the realization that she is his daughter in the most important ways.
“I figure we should have matching last names,” is all I manage before he’s hugging me, careful to keep from squishing Alejandra. “When you finally ask me, I mean,” I joke.
“I didn’t know if you’d say yes yet,” he confesses, caressing my face. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
I shake my head and look down at our daughter as she sleeps. I’m not as scared as I used to be, not when I feel so firmly rooted in the beginnings of this family tree.
“Alejandra Lavigne,” the nurse repeats, scribbling it down on the chart. “A beautiful name for a beautiful baby girl.”
And we choose to live happily ever after, if Quintin’s cheesy ass has anything to say about it.