Chapter Fifteen #2
Normally, this was Maria’s role. She was the calm one, the sunshine.
She could make a thunderstorm feel like a spring shower with just a smile.
But labor had twisted that sunshine into lightning, sharp and relentless.
Every time a contraction hit, she clenched her jaw and let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a scream, and I realized she wasn’t going to be able to talk me through this one.
Which meant the job fell to me. God help us all.
“Ok, ok, remember what that slightly mildewy doula said,” I said, shoving an ice chip at her. “In and out, steady breaths, channel your inner zen goddess—”
Her eyes flicked open long enough to pin me, and through gritted teeth she whispered, “Hermana… you’re babbling.”
That one word stopped me cold. Babbling. Me. Holly McCarthy, professional smartass and world-class sulker, not known for running my mouth unless it was dripping with sarcasm. And here I was, rattling on like a bad infomercial because the silence felt like it might kill us both.
“Right,” I muttered quickly, pressing the cool cloth to her forehead instead. “Deluxe comfort package it is. Handholding, forehead dabbing, and questionable pep talks. All included, free of charge.”
Another contraction slammed through her, and she reached out like a drowning woman, grabbing my hand. Bones cracked. I hissed.
“Ok, ow, bones are supposed to stay inside skin—but you’re doing amazing!”
Her face twisted, then softened for half a second. “You’re… something, you know that?”
“Exactly. That’s my gift.” I leaned down and brushed damp strands of hair off her forehead, feeling her sweat stick to my fingers. “You’re welcome.”
She let out a shaky laugh that broke into a groan, and my chest squeezed.
This wasn’t the Maria I knew—the one who could cook for twenty bikers without breaking a sweat, who could talk Diego down from a temper faster than anyone else.
This was raw Maria. Human Maria. And it scared the hell out of me, but it also made me fiercely determined.
“I got you,” I whispered, so low only she could hear it under the beeping monitors and shuffling nurses. “You’re not alone. Not for one second. Even if you break every bone in my hand, I’m right here.”
Her lips trembled into something like a smile. “Auntie Holly in training.”
“Damn right.” My voice cracked on the words, but I grinned anyway.
Another contraction ripped through her, and she practically tried to climb off the bed, dragging me with her. I scrambled, pressed the cloth to her forehead, and started babbling again before she could sink into the pain.
“Ok, ok, let’s think of something else. Pizza. Imagine pizza. No, wait, not pizza, you’d puke. Puppies. Imagine a thousand tiny golden retriever puppies running around in sweaters. Or, no, wait, better—Diego trying to change a diaper. He’s gagging. He’s crying. He’s screaming for backup—”
Maria’s laugh broke free, wet and shaky, but real. “Stop—you’re going to make me lose focus—”
“Good,” I said, relief flooding me. “Focus on laughing, not on crushing my knuckles into dust.”
She groaned but held tighter. Another wave came, and I swear my hand was going to be mangled forever, but I didn’t care. I kept talking, kept joking, because it was the only thing I could give her. My words. My stubborn refusal to let her do this alone.
Her face twisted, eyes bright with tears, but through it all, she still managed to squeeze out, “You’re a good friend.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a grin. “Takes one to know one, sunshine.” And for a split second, even in the chaos, her smile made the whole room feel brighter.
Then Diego burst in, wide-eyed and frantic.
“Diego!” I pointed to Maria’s free hand. “You get that side!”
He rushed to Maria’s side, nearly tripping over the cords on the floor. She grabbed both our hands, eyes blazing. “Neither of you are allowed to pass out before I do this.”
Labor was chaos. Maria shouted, Diego paled, and I tried desperately not to look down there.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Ohmigawd, I looked.
And now I’m going to be sick. I may need to go to therapy. Again.
“Ok, push!” a nurse encouraged.
What even was that—holy shit, was that a head? That was a head. That was a whole human head trying to crawl out of my best friend.
Nope. Nope nope nope.
I snapped my gaze back to Maria’s face, but it was too late, the image was seared into my brain forever. I leaned in. “You’ve got this, Maria. One more big—”
She roared, crushing our hands. I nearly blacked out from the pressure. Diego’s eyes widened as the joints in his head popped but still he murmured words of comfort in Spanish.
And then, suddenly, there it was. A wriggling, crying, absolutely horrifying little miracle.
“Ohmigawd this is so cool,” I whispered.
“I’m going to vomit,” Diego groaned.
“Don’t you dare,” Maria snapped, sweaty and glowing, clutching her baby to her chest. Diego suddenly seemed to forget all about his nausea as he leaned towards the tiny human loudly announcing its presence to the world.
A perfect little girl. My throat tightened as I watched Maria cry and laugh all at once.
The room finally quieted after the storm. Machines beeped softly, nurses shuffled out with tired smiles, and Maria lay in the bed, cradling a tiny bundle swaddled so tight it looked like a burrito. Diego hovered close, eyes shining like he’d just been handed the entire galaxy.
And me? I stood off to the side, trying to wrap my head around the fact that the thing squirming in Maria’s arms had been inside her half an hour ago.
It was…incredible. Terrifying. Beautiful. All at once.
The sight of Maria’s face, sweaty, tear-streaked, glowing with relief, made my throat tighten. She looked like herself again. Sunshine Maria, but brighter. Stronger. The storm had passed and left something holy in its wake.
A nurse motioned to me, and before I could argue, I had a baby in my arms. A whole human. Tiny, warm, smelling faintly like milk and hospital sheets. She blinked up at me, her eyes dark and cloudy, little fingers curling instinctively around mine. She looked so much like her mama.
My chest clenched so hard I thought I might actually keel over.
“Hi,” I whispered, because what the hell else do you say to a brand-new person? “I’m Auntie Holly. I make bad decisions and worse jokes, but you’ll love me, I promise.”
She made a sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a sigh, and my heart turned inside out.
Nope. Not happening. I could not be getting emotional over a baby burrito named Jewel. That was too on the nose. Too perfect.
I shoved her gently back into Diegos’s waiting arms, my hands trembling. I could hear Maria in the shower, and headed out to the hall.
My brain betrayed me with a flash of an image I hadn’t asked for: broad shoulders in a pressed uniform, strong hands holding a baby like it was made of glass. A soft smile tugging at lips that weren’t meant for softness.
My stomach flipped.
Absolutely not.
I shook my head hard, like I could rattle the thought loose. “Oh hell no,” I muttered. “Brain, you can keep your little fantasy family slideshow to yourself. I’ve got plans. College. A business.”
Still, the ghost of that image lingered, tucked somewhere deep and traitorous.
The fluorescent lights of the hallway hummed overhead, the linoleum gleamed sterile and too bright, and the adrenaline still buzzed in my veins like I’d swallowed a beehive.
I leaned against the wall and pressed my palms to my eyes.
Nineteen. That’s all I was. Soon to be twenty. Kids weren’t in my game plan. Not now. Maybe not ever. I wanted independence. A degree. A business with my name on the sign. A life that was mine alone before I even thought about sharing it with anyone else.
But the sight of Maria with her baby, Diego crying quietly at her side—it carved a soft ache into me I didn’t know what to do with. Like I was peeking through a window into a life that wasn’t mine, and part of me wasn’t sure if I wanted to look away.
I snorted at myself, trying to shake it off. “Get it together, McCarthy. You’ve got essays to submit and pizza to eat, not diapers to change.” Straightening, I squared my shoulders and forced my feet back toward Maria’s room. Because the truth was, I wasn’t ready for that life.
But I was ready to stand beside Maria as she stepped into hers.
And maybe, just maybe, someday I’d figure out the rest.