I smile, putting my hand on my stomach for the last time. “Ready, baby?” I ask. Yawning, my eyes flutter shut, and I lay back, resting until the nurse comes back in.
“You’re crowning,” she tells us and Archer smiles. He’s right there, holding my hand. The nurse leaves to get the doctor, and I know this is it, after half a day of labor, our baby girl will be here.
Several minutes later, my OB and two other nurses come in. Archer holds my hand as I push as hard as I can, over and over until I feel like I physically can’t anymore because my body is about to give up. Sweat rolls down my back and Archer holds my hand tighter.
“You can do this, babe,” he says, stopping to run a cool washcloth over my face.
Nodding, I inhale and push again. I give it all I’ve got, pushing until my head hurts. And then I hear it: a tiny little cry that brings tears to my eyes—and Archer’s.
The doctor quickly checks her over and places her on my chest, covering her with a blanket.
“Oh my God,” I sob, looking down at the crying bundle on my chest.
Archer leans over, smoothing back my hair. His eyes are full of so much love. We gush over Emma, letting the cord pulse before Archer cuts it, and then it’s back to the baby again.
“She’s perfect,” Archer whispers, smiling down at his daughter. He tucks the blanket around her and kisses the top of her head. I have to remind him to take a picture, and we have the nurse take some of the three of us before she takes Emma to get her height and weight.
“Archer,” I say suddenly and his eyes widen, thinking something is wrong. “It’s after midnight.”
The biggest smile comes over his face and he bends to give me a kiss. “You’ll never be able to top this birthday present.”
When the nurse sets Emma back down on my chest and she nuzzles against me, I start crying. Happy tears only, of course, because right here and right now, I have everything I want.
35
Quinn
“I really think you should do it,” I tell Wes, pulling down my shirt so Emma can nurse. “This town needs you.”
Wes gives me a look. “You can only pull that Batman crap on Dean. This town is safe.”
“And it needs to stay safe. Being sheriff is a great way to make sure it stays that way.”
He considers it but shakes his head. “It’s more than just agreeing to run. I need campaign money and someone to watch Jackson during the election and then again when I start working as sheriff. And that’s assuming I even win.”
“I can watch him,” I offer.
“I appreciate the offer, sis, but you have a one-month-old and are building a new house and working. You’re busy.”
Transitioning into parenthood was an adjustment. It’s still an adjustment. Archer took a few days off before going back to work, and I still haven’t fallen into a routine with Emma. But we’re happy and we’re together, and that’s all that matters.
“Jackson’s no trouble at all.”
“He’ll go to school two days a week starting this fall.”
“Oh, right. That’s okay. Emma loves car rides!”
“I can’t make you do that. Jackson is good for you now because he doesn’t stay with you often. I promise you he’s a little shit and will get jealous of the baby. You two have a good relationship now. Let’s keep it that way.”
Frowning, I know his words are true. “What about Mom? She loves watching him.”
“The new hospital project has her really busy.”
“What about a nanny?” I suggest softly. The last time I brought it up, Wes seemed a little offended.
“I’ve thought about it, but anyone who’s good is either still in high school and can’t take Jackson to school or is a lot more than we can afford.”
“Let me do this for you,” I offer. “We can call it your Christmas present if it makes you feel any better.”
“That’s a big thing to offer.” West sits back on the couch. He’s on duty and stopped by to say hi and see his niece. “I can’t accept.”
“You can. Come on, Wes, it’s not like Archer and I don’t have the money. We’d love to do this for you—if that’s what you want. But know we both think you’d make a great sheriff in this county and it’s always good to have an in with someone high up in the law.”
Weston laughs and lets out a breath. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t think, just answer, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to run for sheriff?”
“Yes.”
“Is the only reason you’re not running because you’re worried about Jackson?”
“Yes.”
“See,” I say, readjusting Emma. No one prepared me for the extreme pain of breastfeeding. “Let us do this for you.”
He runs a hand through his dark hair and looks up at me, smiling. “Fine.”
“Yay! This will be great! I know lots of people in Chicago who can recommend a good nanny.”
“Still…a nanny? Sounds too fancy for me.”
“Call her a babysitter then if it makes you feel any better.”
He chuckles. “It kind of does. Let me talk to Nancy about running for real this time and I’ll get back to you. Then if—and only if—there’s no way I can campaign and not risk being late for the preschool pickup line, I’ll let you know about the nanny.?
??
I beam. “You won’t regret it. It’ll be a huge help to you! What could possibly go wrong?”