Minutes tick. Seconds lag.

Anticipation riots. Boredom reins. Doubt lingers.

I’m excited. Can’t wait to meet this little person.

Contractions come.

What am I doing? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m not ready to be a dad yet.

Contractions go.

Suck it up.

I’m brash and moody and selfish and I say fuck way too much.

Quit being such a pussy.

Contractions come.

I’ve never changed a diaper. Never even held a newborn. God, what am I doing? I’m completely clueless. Inept. How could I think I could do this?

Contractions go.

It’s a little too fucking late to turn back now, Donavan.

Panic claws at my throat. Fear tightens around my windpipe. I stand, pace the room to abate my nerves while Ry sleeps.

Breathe, Donavan. Fucking breathe. Ry’s the one in labor and you’re the one nervous? Think of her. Worry about her.

The after part you’re worried about will just happen.

Relax.

Chill the fuck out.

I call Shane to eat up time. Try to right my wrongs and make sure he’s cool. Make sure Zander’s better. Hang up. Send Sammy to get some decent coffee downstairs. Wait some more.

I look out the window to the city beyond just as night begins to eat the daylight. Deep breath in. Exhale all the bullshit out. I glance up, surprised to see Ry awake in the window’s reflection.

Our eyes meet as a sleepy smile forms on her lips and my world clicks back into its place. How could I doubt this? Our connection? Our love? Our future? She’s my Midas. Everything she’s ever touched in my life has been made better, fucking golden, including me as a man.

I turn back around. Ready to do this.

Wheels on the track.

Hands on the wheel.

It’s time to add our first memory to the frame.


“YOU’RE DOING GREAT, BABY,” COLTON murmurs in my ear. My head’s back on the pillow, eyes closed. He brushes my hair from my forehead, kisses the top of my hand clasped in his.