24. The Bun Leaves the Oven
THE BUN LEAVES THE OVEN
REESE
Charlie opens my door enough to poke her head in. “The baby is coming.” She looks like she’s barely able to contain the explosion of excitement that’s filling her. “Mackenzie’s water broke twenty minutes ago, and they’re headed to the hospital.”
I throw off my blankets. “I’m coming.”
I send a quick text to Marjorie. I knew there was a good chance the baby would come during a school day, so I already have everything approved and lined up for Marjorie to sub for me when the day came.
By seven thirty, I’m at the hospital with enough Lancaster and MacNeil family members to make the waiting area feel like it’s Jace and Mackenzie’s baby shower, part two. Except, this time, we’re indoors, and so far, the pregnant woman is the only one experiencing labor-like pain.
Mackenzie has been admitted, and Jace is with her. The rest of us are sitting, off in search of our caffeine of choice, or getting breakfast from vending machines, while trying not to ask for updates every two minutes.
Miles arrives and gives me a hello kiss—something I know I’ll never tire of in a million years.
His hair is still a little messy, and there’s the faintest shadow of stubble along his jaw.
Apparently, “recently recovered from a kidney stone” is still an extremely good look on him.
I have to remind myself that staring at my boyfriend after he kisses me hello is probably allowed now.
He looks so much better than he did on Saturday! A bit tired, maybe, but he’s moving normally and is no longer at the mercy of Chuck.
“Any lingering trauma from your recently liberated urinary tract?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Only from the trophy you ordered.”
“Oh, come on. You know you’ll be displaying that thing proudly. You earned it.”
He gives me a smile that says, “You make my life better.” I give him my own version of that smile right back.
Jace comes into the waiting room, his hair looking like he’s run his hands through it a dozen times. He spots us and walks quickly over. “We have a problem.”
Miles and I both straighten, and my mind starts running through a list of possible problems.
“Our birth doula isn’t coming.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t what I was expecting at all.
Jace rubs a hand over his face. “Her daughter has some kind of stomach virus. And her backup is stuck behind a major accident on the interstate that might not be cleared for hours.”
Jace looks between us, and Miles immediately says, “No.”
“You don’t even know what he’s asking.”
Miles doesn’t take his eyes off Jace as he says, “Oh, I know exactly what he’s asking.”
Jace looks at Miles. “You have recent experience breathing through agonizing waves of pain.” Then he turns to me. “And you have experience coaching him. Plus, you’re calm when things go sideways.”
I start laughing. Miles crosses his arms, staring his brother down.
Jace’s shoulders drop. “Please? Mackenzie really wants you both.”
Miles just raises an eyebrow.
“And she specifically said, ‘Bring Miles. He survived fake labor, so he’ll be useful for real labor.’”
“Her words?”
“Exact quote.”
I see the moment Miles knows he could never say no to the request. I grab his hand and say, “Come on, birth buddy.”
As soon as we’re in Mackenzie’s room, a contraction hits, and she grabs Jace’s hand with one of hers, the other grasping the bed rail.
Miles and I move to the opposite side of her bed, and I say, “Okay, breathe.”
Her eyes snap to mine, and she growls, “Do not tell me to breathe.”
“Excellent,” I say. “Hostility is grounding. It helped Miles, too.”
Mackenzie breathes anyway, matching my breathing, and the contraction eases. She falls back against her pillow and says, “I hate this.”
“You’re doing amazing,” Jace says.
“I hate you, too.”
“I know,” Jace says, then kisses her forehead.
Miles leans in close to me and says, “I was nicer during labor.”
I turn toward his ear and say, “You threatened to kill half your family.”
Mackenzie’s labor lasts long enough for me to gain an entirely new level of respect for Mackenzie. At one point, Mackenzie looks at Miles and says, “Did yours hurt this bad?”
“No,” Miles says without the slightest hesitation. I raise my eyebrows, so Miles says in a low voice close to my ear, “I’m an intelligence operative. I know when survival depends on giving the correct answer.”
His breath brushes my ear, and my body gives a tiny, completely inappropriate-for-a-labor-room reaction. Apparently, knowing I’m allowed to be attracted to Miles has made me notice everything. Including how good he smells.
The hours blur into contractions, ice chips, short walks, counter pressure, and breathing.
Miles keeps track of timing while I coach Mackenzie through contractions.
Jace stays beside her through every one, managing to look terrified and steady at the same time.
Jace keeps telling Mackenzie that she can do this.
Mackenzie keeps informing Jace that he is never touching her again.
Suddenly, everything changes. More nurses come in, and everyone is focused on one purpose. I stay near Mackenzie’s shoulder while Miles steps farther back, beside Jace, as they tell Mackenzie when to push.
And then there is a tiny, furious, beautiful cry. The whole room seems to stop for a second. Then Mackenzie starts crying, and Jace does, too. He laughs while he cries, which makes me cry, too.
Their little girl is placed against Mackenzie’s chest, all red-faced and outraged and so very perfect.
“Oh,” I whisper. Miles’s hand finds mine, and I hold on.
I knew this would hurt. There’s an ache in my chest as I watch Mackenzie touch one trembling finger to her daughter’s cheek.
I may never know what that feels like. I might never look down and see my own eyes or Miles’s smile in a baby we made together. The grief is real.
But the grief isn’t alone. There’s intense joy and wonder, too. And overwhelming gratitude that Jace and Mackenzie trusted us enough to be part of a moment that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
After a while, the flurry of nurses slows, and Jace and Mackenzie have had time to stare at their daughter from every possible angle, like they’re trying to memorize her. I’m standing beside the bed when Mackenzie looks up at me. “Do you want to hold Grace?”
My heart trips. “Me?”
“You did help get her here.”
Jace nods. “You two earned first visitor privileges.”
I sit in the chair beside the bed because I don’t trust my knees, and Jace settles her into my arms. Oh. She weighs almost nothing. And yet somehow, everything.
“Hi, Grace,” I whisper.
Her body fits along my forearm, warm and sleepy beneath the blanket. She yawns, then settles. She’s got a tiny fist tucked beneath her chin, her fingernails so miniature that I can’t stop marveling at them.
I just stare at this brand-new baby breathing against me as the ache comes, and for one sharp moment, I let myself want.
I want to know what it would feel like to look down and recognize Miles in such a small face.
I want to know whether she’d get my chaos or Miles’s ability to make order of it.
I want to know if Miles would be the kind of dad who checks the locks three times at night or falls asleep with a baby on his chest. Probably both.
My eyes burn. But the grief doesn’t sweep it all away, because I love this baby. I love her because she’s Grace. She’s here, and she belongs to people I love.
“I have the cutest stuffed bees to give to you,” I whisper to her.
I look up to see Miles watching me. The expression on his face makes my breath catch. There’s softness in it, and love, and something else I can’t name. I tell him, “Your turn,” and he steps closer.
He takes her with the same care he uses with anything precious, one hand supporting her head as he settles her against his chest. I pictured this once before, and now I’m seeing it in person as Miles stands three feet away from me with a newborn in his arms.
His entire face changes as he looks down at her.
It’s completely, helplessly soft. One of her hands comes up, and Miles offers her a finger.
Her tiny little fist closes around it, and something in his face goes completely tender.
I’ve always loved Miles’s hands—capable, steady, and sure—but watching one of them cradle Grace’s tiny head makes me see them differently.
I can’t promise Miles what the future will look like for us. Neither can he. But for the first time, I let myself watch him holding a baby without immediately turning the image into something I owe him. I just let myself love the man holding her.
And I let myself wonder what the future might look like for us.
Later, after the baby is cleaned up and everyone has been moved into the endless rotation of who gets to visit, starting with Mackenzie’s parents and Evelyn, and then down through every sibling and Mackenzie’s best friend, Livi, I stand near the window while Evelyn holds her granddaughter.
Her face is so soft. Almost young-looking.
The baby makes a little squeaking noise, and Evelyn smiles.
“I remember when each of my kids was born, there was this feeling of our family becoming more. Not simply larger—more. Like the family itself had changed shape to make room for someone who had always belonged in it.”
My throat tightens.
“Once we knew we were done having children, I missed that feeling.” She glances toward the doorway, where Blake picks up Heidi in the middle of a full-on sprint to the door and holds her on his hip. “Then Heidi came along, and I felt it again.” She looks down at Grace. “And now again.”
My eyes burn, and I blink fast to ward away the tears.
Miles had left to take a phone call, and he appears in the doorway just after Blake and Heidi come in.
Something about the sudden seriousness in his expression changes him from the man who was holding a newborn twenty minutes ago into Agent Lancaster, and my pulse ratchets up in response.
He tilts his head toward the hall, and I follow him.
He stops in a space between rooms and checks that we’re alone.
“Maxwell won the bid. They’re arranging final transfer.”
My stomach flips half because I know this is a good thing for him, and half because I know I will worry the entire time he’s gone. “When?”
“We don’t know yet, but I need to go.”
I nod. Disappointment rises for a moment, but then I think about all the years when he had to leave for a client emergency, and I’m just glad to know now. I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. “Go.”
His eyes search mine. “You’re okay? I might be gone—”
“I’m okay. You go be a spy.”
He gives me a quick peck, then a second, softer kiss. “I’ll call when I can.”
The second one lingers just long enough to make me wish we weren’t standing in a hospital hallway and he wasn’t about to disappear on a mission.
“And if you can’t?”
“I’ll let you know.”
I give his hand another squeeze, then he leaves.
I stay at the hospital for another hour, which is long enough to watch Heidi inspect all ten of Grace’s tiny toes and to compare her three-year-old hand size to Grace’s newborn size.
It’s also long enough for Mackenzie to tell me that she is never going through labor again, and then immediately look at her daughter like she would do it a hundred times over.
By the time I head for the parking garage, the hospital has quieted. My body is exhausted, but my mind is full. I just experienced the birth of a brand-new baby. And I got to do it alongside Miles.
Halfway to my car, I hear footsteps behind me.
It’s just a man in a dark jacket who’s also in the parking garage.
I keep walking. When I’m two rows from my car, I reach into my purse for my keys and turn at the sound of footsteps to my right.
It’s a woman stepping out from between two vehicles, which isn’t abnormal, yet something in me still goes on high alert.
Just then, the man who’d been behind me grabs my arm.
I twist hard, driving my elbow backward, but another hand catches my wrist. I yell for help, but the woman moves fast. Like, professionally fast. My purse hits the concrete, and a hand clamps over my mouth. My heart is slamming against my ribs, and I can’t take in enough air.
They drag me between the cars toward a dark van with tinted windows.
I kick with all I’ve got. Eventually, I connect with something, and someone curses.
Good. I twist again, trying to drop my weight the way Miles once showed me during a drill with Charlie, and for half a second, the grip on me shifts.
Then the woman catches my other arm. “Stop fighting.”
Yeah, not likely.
The van door slides open, and they force me inside. I catch one last glimpse of my purse lying beneath the fluorescent lights before the door slams shut.
The man is sitting across from me, and the woman is between me and the door. My breaths are coming fast, and my brain is moving even faster. My eyes are darting around the space, looking for anything useful.
The man just looks directly at me. “We just need you to answer a few questions.”
I don’t stop frantically looking for a way to escape.
“About your little visit to the airplane hangar two weeks ago.”
I freeze as every part of me goes cold.
“Do you know a man named Maxwell Shaw?”