2 Benedict

I’m sitting across from Vin in a dimly lit coffee shop, nursing a half-empty cup of black coffee that’s long gone cold. My mind’s been wandering for the past hour, barely listening to Vin ramble about some new case. I should be paying attention, but I can’t shake this nagging feeling that I’m missing something. I glance at my phone, but the damn thing died at some point during this meeting.

“I’m telling you, this is a solid lead,” Vin says, sipping from his mug. He’s excited about whatever we’ve been discussing, but I’m distracted. I don’t know why—maybe it’s because Eva’s been on my mind all day. She’s nearing her due date, and every time I think about her, my heart does this weird flip. We’re so close to meeting our child, and I can’t wait to hold the baby in my arms.

"Yeah, sounds good," I mutter, half-heartedly agreeing to whatever Vin’s talking about, still fidgeting with my dead phone. “Do you have a charger?”

Vin raises an eyebrow. “Charger? No, man. Why?”

“My phone’s dead.”

“Then use mine,” he says, sliding his phone across the table.

Before I can take it, the door to the coffee shop bursts open with such force that it rattles the bell overhead. Devereaux strides in like a man on a mission, his usual calm, cocky demeanor replaced by wide-eyed urgency. Roman and Ledger are right behind him, and they all look like they just ran a marathon.

“Benedict!” Devereaux calls out, scanning the room until his eyes land on me. He rushes over, his face flushed, breathless.

“What the hell’s going on?” I ask, standing up, my heart already in my throat.

“It’s Eva,” Devereaux says, his voice sharp with urgency. “She’s in labor. Like right now.”

“Shit.” The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it, and everything else fades. Eva. Labor. Right now.

Vin looks at me, alarmed. “Why didn’t she call?”

“Because my damn phone is dead!” I shout, grabbing my coat and keys in one frantic motion. My mind is racing. I should have been there, not sitting here drinking cold coffee. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

“She’s fine, but you need to haul ass,” Roman says, already heading for the door. “She’s asking for you.”

Devereaux’s practically pulling me out of the coffee shop. "She’s at the hospital. Let’s go."

I don’t waste a second. The four of us rush out of the coffee shop, and I pile into the car with Roman, Ledger, and Devereaux. My mind is running wild, a thousand different thoughts racing through my head, but all I can focus on is getting to Eva. I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin. She’s in labor, and I’m not there.

“Drive faster,” I bark at Roman, my hands clenching and unclenching as the hospital looms closer.

“Relax, man,” Ledger says from the passenger seat, glancing back at me with a smirk. “We’ll get you there in time.”

I don’t relax. Not until we’re pulling up to the hospital and I’m flying out of the SUV before Roman even turns the engine off. I sprint inside, not caring who I shove past, my only thought is Eva. Where is she?

“Delivery room 3,” Devereaux shouts behind me as he jogs to keep up.

I burst into the maternity ward, my heart pounding in my chest. The nurses point me in the right direction, and I reach the door just as another contraction rocks through Eva’s body. Her face is red, her eyes squeezed shut in pain, and Greer, Chloe, and Posey are gathered around her, all of them trying to calm her down.

“Eva!” I call out, rushing to her side, breathless and panicked.

Her eyes snap open, and relief washes over her face when she sees me. “You’re here,” she gasps, her hand reaching for mine. I take it, holding on tight, feeling the sweat on her skin, the tension in her grip.

“I’m here,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

She squeezes my hand with surprising strength, her eyes shining with both tears and determination. “Just—just don’t leave now.”

“I won’t,” I promise, pressing another kiss to her temple.

The doctor is there, telling her to push, and I can’t do anything but hold her hand, whispering words of encouragement as she bears down. Time seems to stretch and blur as Eva fights through the pain, her entire body trembling with the effort.

“Benedict,” she gasps between contractions, her voice strained, “I swear—if you ever miss another—oh God—event like this again—”

I laugh, even as my heart feels like it’s going to explode. “I’m not going anywhere. You got this.”

And then it happens, faster than I thought possible. The room fills with the sound of a baby’s first cry, loud and clear, and I watch in awe as the doctor lifts a tiny, wriggling baby into the air.

Our daughter.

Eva’s tears spill over as she gasps for breath, a smile breaking across her exhausted face. I kiss her hand, my own eyes burning with tears as the nurse places the baby in Eva’s arms.

“She’s perfect,” I whisper, staring down at our daughter, the most beautiful little creature I’ve ever seen. Her tiny fists are balled up, her face red and scrunched, but she’s perfect in every way.

Eva looks up at me, her eyes full of love and exhaustion. “We did it,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“We did,” I say, my chest swelling with pride and overwhelming love. I can’t stop staring at our baby girl, this little miracle we’ve brought into the world.

After a few minutes, Eva looks at me, her eyes sparkling with joy. “What should we name her?”

I grin, remembering all the times we went back and forth on names. But there’s only one that feels right.

“How about Roxy?” I suggest, my voice soft.

Eva smiles, her eyes lighting up as she looks down at our daughter. “Roxy,” she whispers, testing the name. “I love it.”

We both stare at our daughter, Roxy, the newest addition to our family. She’s perfect, and this moment—this is everything I never knew I needed.