Page 90 of Daring Destiny
Brennan and I spend the rest of the evening curled up on the couch, talking about baby names, about the nursery we’re going to set up, about everything and nothing. It feels normal. Perfect.
When he falls asleep, hand resting protectively over my belly, I find myself thinking about how far we’ve come. An unexpected connection. True friendship. A thriving business. Passion beyond my wildest imagination.
Now, a baby and a wedding.
We dared to take a chance on each other. Or, maybe destiny led us here.
Either way, we’re exactly where we belong.
Epilogue
Brennan - Four Months Later
Holyshit.
The day has arrived. I’m about to be a father.
Our hospital suite buzzes with a quiet, tense energy as I sit beside Astrid, clutching her hand. It’s been over sixteen hours since her contractions started, and we’ve been through the whole roller coaster together—breathing exercises, position changes, the occasional joke to ease her nerves, and a million ice chips.
I thought I was prepared for this. I had everything planned down to the smallest detail, but watching her endure this kind of pain, I feel totally powerless. My heart aches for her, and I wish I could take some of it away, but all I can do is be here, hold her hand, and remind her to breathe.
“Alright, my love.” I brush back a few damp strands of hair from her forehead. “Just like we practiced. Deep breaths in and out. You’re doing great.”
Astrid’s eyes have been flickering in and out of focus through her contractions, but the look she gives me now is somewhere between exasperation and affection. “Brennan, I swear to God, if you tell me to breathe again…” Her voice trails off, breaking as another contraction grips her and she winces with pain.
I flinch at the contraction but bite back a smile. I’ve been expecting this, knowing full well she’d be sick of my well-meaning instructions by now. Still, I squeeze her hand tighter, hoping she feels my support, even if my words are starting to grate on her nerves.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the breathing reminders,” I whisper. “Just…keep doing what you’re doing. You’re amazing.”
“Much better,” she grits out, her face contorting again as a contraction rips through her. Then her grip on my hand tightens and I can practically feel her strength bleed into me as she rides out the wave. She’s always fierce, but rarely this vulnerable. It’s awe-inspiring and terrifying. My chest swells with a love I didn’t think could get any stronger.
I steal a quick glance at the clock. Nearly seventeen hours now. I’ve lost track of how many contractions she’s had but it doesn’t matter. Time feels like it’s standing still. Every second draws out as we wait for the moment we’ve been imagining for months.
The nurse checks her again and nods, her smile reassuring. “We’re getting close now, Astrid. You’re almost there.”
“Thank fucking God.” Astrid breathes out a low, frustrated moan. “I can’t... I don’t think I can keep doing this.” Her voice is raw with exhaustion.
I rub her temples, lean down and press my forehead to hers. “You can. I know you can. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’ve got this. We’re so close. Just a little longer, and he’ll be here.”
Her eyes well up and she grits her teeth. Fear. Pain. Determination. All shine through her beautiful face.
“I love you, B,” she moans. “But I’m also going to kill you if you say ‘breathe’ one more time.”
Oh, I can’t help it. She’s bugged by everything. I burst into laughter and it feels like a release. Her words break through the tension.
“Noted.” I kiss her nose. “I’ll shut the fuck up now if it makes you feel better.”
The doctor steps forward, glancing at Astrid. “Alright, Astrid, this is it. I need you to push. Hard.”
I hold her hand, bracing myself for her grip, and she does not disappoint. Her nails dig into my skin, but I don’t let go. I can see the effort it’s taking, every muscle in her body straining, and I wish I could do it for her. I say to myself so she can’t hear me, “You’re amazing, my love. You’re incredible. Just a few more minutes.”
She pushes again, gritting her teeth, and I see her face transform. All determined effort. Sheer will to bring our son into the world. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder, or more terrified.
A sudden cry fills the room. Raw and sharp and impossibly beautiful. I blink, my eyes stinging with tears, and the doctor holds him up, tiny and wriggling and so unbelievably perfect.
“Congratulations,” she beams. “He’s perfect in every way.”
Astrid collapses back against the bed, her chest heaving, but she’s smiling through her tears, eyes fixed on him.