Rafe Cameron was notoriously bad at keeping his cool. Short temper, reckless decisions, impatient as hell.
And tonight? Tonight, he was a mess.
“Jesus, why is this taking so long?” Rafe muttered, pacing the hospital room for what had to be the hundredth time. His fingers raked through his hair, eyes flickering to where you lay in the hospital bed, sweat on your forehead, breathing heavy.
You gave him a look. “Oh, I don’t know, Rafe. Maybe because I’m pushing a whole human out of me!?”
He winced. “Yeah, okay, fair point.”
You sighed, squeezing his hand as another contraction hit. He winced harder this time — like he was the one in pain.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” he muttered, voice softer now. “I love you,” he whispered. “So much.”
Tears burned your eyes. “I love you too.”
And then a cry filled the room.
Your body collapsed in exhaustion, but Rafe? Rafe froze. Wide blue eyes snapped to the doctor, and then —there she was.
Your daughter. His daughter.
Tiny and pink and perfect, wrapped up in a soft hospital blanket. The doctor handed her to you first, and Rafe just stared. Like his brain couldn’t keep up with his heart.
You nudged him. “Rafe.”
“I-” His voice caught.
You smiled, holding out your little girl for him to take. And Rafe? The guy who once swore he wasn’t the fatherly type?
He broke.
He took her so gently, cradling her in his arms like she was the most fragile thing in the world. His breath hitched as he stared down at her.
“She’s so…” His voice cracked. “She’s so small.” Then, after a long moment, he looked at you, eyes glassy.
“We made her.” he whispered, like he still couldn’t believe it.
You smiled, tired but full of love. “Yeah, we did.”
He let out a shaky breath, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. And as he looked back at the tiny life in his arms, he knew.
His whole world, right here.