Page 37 of Baby for My Best Friend's Brother

Leaving me to lean against the door, Cliff once again looks around the room. He mutters to himself. “Where the fuck are my keys?”

I brace myself against the door. “They’re on the table by the front door,” I say through gritted teeth as another pain starts. “Next to the hospital bag.”

“Oh. Good.” Cliff sighs in relief. “That was smart of us.”

His panic is back as I start to groan. Cliff practically carries me to the front door, somehow managing to grab the keys and my bag. He’s so gentle and so supportive, it takes the edge off my pain.

I’m not aware of most of the drive to the hospital. I’m focusing on the breathing I learned in the yoga class I finally took and thinking about a calm, peaceful place. Cliff, for the most part, is an angel. However, a bit of a devilish side flashes up any time he comes across a driver who he thinks is going too slowly or driving too recklessly.

By the time we walk through the hotel doors, I’m about as close to Zen as I can get with the prospect of pushing a watermelon out of my body. Meanwhile, poor Cliff is nearly pale as a ghost with fear.

“My wife is having a baby,” he announces. “We called the doctor on our way. How fast can you assemble the rest of the team?”

The admissions nurse and I share a smirk. It’s as if he’s calling for the Avengers or Justice League. Or maybe both. I fell asleep when we watched all of those movies. Just like I fell asleep during every other movie we’d put on in the evenings while we snuggled up together in front of the fireplace in the new home we built together on his land in Alaska.

In my defense, I was growing a human and building my business as a freelance graphic designer.

While Cliff would have been more than happy to move to Seattle to be with me, in the end, we decided we wanted to raise our kids close to Slate and Winter, who are also expecting their first in a few months.

It’s crazy to think about how much all of our lives have changed this past year.

Cliff scowls our way into the delivery room, barking requests and orders even as he babies me with soothing words. Once I’m changed into my hospital gown and settled in the bed, he switches over completely to my cheerleader and coach as I battle through contraction after contraction.

I lose track of time. People come in and out of the room. But through it all, Cliff’s steady gaze and comforting words cut through the haze. They’re my compass until the doctor gives the command to push.

And, after what seems like an eternity, our baby is here.

She’s here.

We watch in wide-eyed wonder as the doctor sets our daughter on my chest. I’m so awed by her—so in love with her—I can barely speak.

“Oh, Sophie,” Cliff whispers, his voice gruff with emotion. “She’s beautiful and sweet.”

I glance up in time to see his eyes grow uncharacteristically misty. “She’s perfect. Just like her mama.”

“I love you,” I mouth to him, closing my eyes in contentment as he lowers his forehead to rest against mine.

As our baby's cries settle into coos, as the adrenaline of the final push wears away, I’m aware of how lucky I am.

I have a healthy baby. I have a wonderful husband. I have a life full of love and comfort. I have a family. It’s even better than I could have imagined.

---