Page 118 of Cross Check Daddies
“She’s amazing,” she says, smiling so wide I could kiss her. “She’s swearing in four languages, but she’s doing amazing.”
We don’t sit. We pace.
We wear out the floor.
Then finally, Ace steps out of the delivery room.
He looks wrecked.
“She did it,” he says.
Cam and I rush him like we’re about to check him against the wall.
“She’s okay?”
“She’s perfect. Tired. Still cursing.”
“And the babies?”
He grins, almost like he doesn’t believe the words. “Two little girls. Screamed their way into the world just like their mom.”
Cam’s face cracks into this lopsided grin that says he’s seconds from tears. I don’t even hide mine. They fall without warning. We’re hugging like idiots in the middle of the hallway. Ivy’s crying too, saying something about how she always knew Brooke would give birth like a boss.
When we’re allowed in, she’s propped up in bed, sweaty and glowing and looking like she just ran a marathon with fire in her veins. Jackson’s asleep in a chair next to her, one tiny fist resting on her arm.
And in her arms—two pink-faced girls. Both wrapped tight. Both impossibly small and strong at the same time.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper.
She glances up, tears in her eyes. “Me either.”
Cam leans down, kisses her forehead. “You did it, sugar.”
Ace hands me something. I look down.
It’s his Stanley Cup ring.
I frown. “What?”
“For her,” he says.
I pull mine from my pocket.
Brooke blinks as we each kneel by her side, holding out the championship rings. “You guys?—”
“Promise rings,” Cam says.
“Not proposing. Yet,” I add quickly.
“We know you want time.”
“But we wanted you to know we’re here,” Ace finishes. “That we mean it. All of it.”
Brooke laughs through her tears, shaking her head. “You three are unbelievable.”
“And you,” I say, brushing a kiss to her wrist, “completed your list.”
She looks down at the girls, then at Jackson, then at us.
