Page 113 of That: Taylor & Brooks

Taylor looked up at him, drawing strength from the unwavering belief in his eyes. Throughout the eighteen hours of labor, Brooks had been her rock, wiping her brow, feeding her ice chips, massaging her back, and never once leaving her side, not even when she’d screamed things at him that would have sent a lesser man running.

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding. “Okay.”

With the next contraction, she pulled herself forward, squeezing Brooks’ hand and bearing down with a primitive cry that seemed to come from the very center of her being. This was motherhood.

And then, relief. A moment of breathless silencefollowed by the most beautiful sound either of them had ever heard: the furious wail of their child entering the world.

“It’s a girl!” Dr. Chen announced lifting the squirming, red-faced infant for them to see. “A beautiful, healthy baby girl.”

Brooks made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, his eyes filled with wonder as he stared at his daughter. “She’s perfect,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to Taylor’s. “You did it, baby. You did it.”

Taylor couldn’t speak, overcome with emotion as the tiny, wriggling bundle was placed on her chest. She cradled her daughter with trembling hands, amazed by the miniature fingers, the perfect rosebud mouth, the dark eyes blinking up at her, eyes that looked so much like Brooks’ it made her heart clench.

“Hello, little one,” she whispered, tracing a gentle finger over the baby’s soft cheek. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Brooks leaned in, one arm around Taylor’s shoulders, the other hand gently cupping his daughter’s tiny head. The pride and love radiating from him was almost palpable, a force field surrounding the three of them in their private bubble of joy.

In that moment he wished his parents were there to witness him bringing a life into this world.

“She needs a name,” he said softly.

They’d discussed names throughout the pregnancy but hadn’t settled on one, wanting to meet their child first. Looking down at her daughter’s face, Taylor knew exactly what she wanted to call her.

“Denver,” she said, the name feeling right on her lips. “Denver Yvonne Bishop.”

Brooks’ eyes widened slightly at the middle name, his mother’s middle name. “Denver Yvonne,” he repeated, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

As if recognizing her name, the baby’s tiny fingers curled around Brooks’ much larger one, holding on with surprising strength for something so small. Brooks stared down at their joined hands, completely captivated.

The next few hours passed in a blur of nurses checking vitals, family arriving with flowers and balloons, and the three of them learning to navigate their new reality as a family.

Blake was the first visitor, bursting into the room with tears already streaming down her face. She was two months from delivering her baby.

“Let me see my niece!” She demanded, rushing to Taylor’s bedside. Her expression softened instantly when she saw the sleeping infant in Taylor’s arms. “Oh my God, she’s gorgeous. Look at those eyelashes!”

Emon followed more sedately, clapping Brooks on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man. She’s beautiful.”

Brooks nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter for long. “Thanks, bro.”

Taylor’s parents arrived next, her mother immediately dissolving into tears while her father stood at the foot of the bed, trying and failing to maintain his composure at the sight of his first grandchild.

“She’s got the Bradshaw nose,” he declared, his voice suspiciously thick.

“And the Bishop attitude,” Brooks added with a grin. “Already had the nurses running.”

Reverend Bradshaw’s eyes met Brooks’ over thebed, a moment of understanding passing between them. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he walked around to Brooks and pulled him into a firm embrace.

“You did good, son,” he said quietly, patting Brooks’ back. “Both of you.”

Brooks returned the hug, his throat tight with emotion. “Thank you, sir.”

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of visitors, Brooks’ crew from the towing company bearing a massive teddy bear, Taylor’s colleagues from the hospital with practical gifts and advice, church members with home-cooked meals for the new parents.

Brooks had to shut the visiting down. He knew everyone was excited but exhaustion had settled over Taylor like a heavy blanket. His girls needed rest. She fought to keep her eyes open as the last visitors filed out, leaving just her, Brooks, and baby Denver in the quiet hospital room.

“You should sleep,” Brooks said, noticing her drooping eyelids. “I’ve got her.”

Taylor wanted to protest, but she was beyond tired. “Wake me if she needs anything,” she murmured, already drifting off.

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