Chapter 31

The sterile hum of hospital lights buzzed overhead as Mia's brothers, Jessie and Mark, sat in the maternity ward's waiting area. Their wives, Heather and April, quietly flipped through magazines they weren't reading. Despite the calm, a storm of emotions brewed underneath. The baby wasn't due for another eight weeks, but stress had a way of rewriting timelines—and Mia had endured more than her share in recent weeks.

Jessie looked up as the doors slid open. Frank and Charlotte Knight stepped through, their expressions tight with concern. Behind them were Max's brother, Jeremy, and his wife, Ashley; their footsteps quickened as they spotted the familiar faces.

"Hey," Charlotte said softly, offering a weary smile as she embraced April, then Heather. "Any news?"

"Not yet," Mark replied, his voice low, a little hoarse. "They rushed her into delivery about twenty minutes ago. Doctor said they're trying to keep things steady, but at thirty-two weeks..." He trailed off.

Ashley reached over and squeezed his hand. "Premies do great these days. She's strong. So is the baby."

Frank settled into a chair beside Jessie. "How's Max holding up?"

"He hasn't come out since they took her in," Jessie said. "He's been a rock for her through all this, but it's hitting him hard. Everything with Nate… telling the story, going public, it wore Mia down more than she let on."

Charlotte's eyes glistened. "She shouldn't have had to go through that. Not alone."

"She didn't," Heather interjected gently. "Max was with her every step. But the press, the interviews, reliving the trauma—" She exhaled. "It was too much."

"She's so brave," Ashley added, glancing toward the swinging doors that led to the delivery wing. "To come forward like that. To name names."

Jeremy nodded solemnly. "She did what most people can't. And she protected others by speaking up. That takes guts."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence. The TV in the corner played a daytime cooking show, but it was ignored. The clock ticked too loudly. It had only been half an hour, but it felt like a lifetime.

Then the doors opened again.

Max appeared, pale but smiling, his scrubs wrinkled and hair a mess. His eyes scanned the room until he saw his family—and Mia's.

"It's a girl," he said, voice cracking slightly with emotion. "She's here. She's early, but she's breathing on her own. She's in the NICU, but the doctors are hopeful."

A collective breath of relief washed over the room. Charlotte pressed her hand to her mouth. Jeremy exhaled, muttering a thank-you under his breath.

"And Mia?" Jessie asked quickly.

Max's eyes softened. "Tired. Emotional. But she's okay. She wants to see you all soon."

Frank stood and wrapped Max in a rare, firm hug. "We're proud of you, son. Of both of you."

"She's got her mama's fight," Max said with a shaky smile. "And her stubbornness."

"And probably her daddy's eyes," Ashley added, wiping her tears.

As the family moved in to hug Max, the tension in the room slowly eased, giving way to hope and a fragile joy. Their lives had changed forever—again. But now there was a new little heartbeat in the world, and despite the chaos, despite the pain that brought them here, love surrounded her already.

And she was perfect.

The hallway was quiet, save for the soft whoosh of air from the hospital vents and the gentle hum of the NICU machines behind the glass. One by one, the family arrived, each taking their place at the wide observation window, eyes full of anticipation.

Inside the softly lit room, nestled in a tiny bassinet under a glowing heat lamp, lay a baby girl — a swirl of dark hair crowning her head, impossibly small fingers curling and uncurling. A nurse gently adjusted her blanket, revealing the faintest blue spark in her wide, curious eyes.

"She looks like Mia," Charlotte Knight whispered, pressing her hand to the glass.

"But those eyes—" Frank Knight chuckled, pride clear in his voice, "—those are Max's, no doubt."

Charlotte wiped a tear from her cheek. "Our first grandchild."

Frank put his arm around her shoulders, both of them drinking in every detail of the tiny miracle.

Next came Jeremy and Ashley, holding hands. Jeremy grinned the second he saw her. "Look at that hair. That's all, Mia, no contest."

Ashley leaned in, her face glowing. "She's beautiful." Her hand drifted to her belly instinctively, where just a few weeks earlier, they'd discovered their little secret. Her smile deepened, both for the baby girl before them and the one they hadn't yet shared.

Jessie and Heather arrived next, followed closely by Mark and April. Jessie froze the second he spotted her. "That's my niece?"

"That's your niece," Heather whispered, tugging gently at his arm.

"She's perfect," April murmured.

"She's tiny," Mark added. "How the hell do they even diaper something that small?"

Laughter bubbled between them, warm and full of awe.

Minutes later, the whole crew was ushered down to Mia's hospital room, where she sat propped up in bed, Max by her side, a smug smile playing at his lips."She's got my hair and Max's eyes," Mia beamed, her voice still soft, but full of strength.

"She's amazing," Charlotte said, stepping forward with tears in her eyes. "What's her name?"

Max exchanged a look with Mia. Here it comes.

"We've decided to name her… Pickle Chardonnay Knight," Max said with the straightest face he could manage.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Jessie blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Pickle," Mia confirmed solemnly. "Because she was kind of unexpected, and we were eating pickles when I went into labor."

"And Chardonnay because, well, we were drinking wine the night we—" Max started, but Charlotte interrupted with a horrified "Max!"

Ashley looked like she was about to faint.

"Is this real?" April asked, squinting like maybe they'd stepped into a parallel universe.

Then Mia cracked first, her laughter erupting like sunshine. Max followed suit, doubling over as the tension melted away in a chorus of groans and laughs.

"Okay, okay," Mia said between giggles, wiping at her eyes. "Her name is Rowan Elise Knight."

A collective sigh of relief swept through the room, followed by cheers and a few mock punches to Max's arm.

"Now that's a name," Frank nodded approvingly.

"Beautiful," Charlotte whispered, the name settling in her heart like a lullaby.

Ashley leaned close to Jeremy and whispered, "I can't wait to tell them about our baby."

"Soon," he murmured, his hand finding hers. "But today's all about Rowan."

And as the family gathered around Mia's bed, laughter and love wrapping the room in warmth, tiny Rowan slept peacefully upstairs, dark-haired and blue-eyed, already the heart of their world.

Mia had barely taken a sip of the lukewarm apple juice on her hospital tray when Mark stepped closer to her bedside, his expression tinged with gentle concern and an unmistakable doctorly tone.

"So," he started, arms crossed in his signature diagnostic stance, "what did your doctor say about your discharge? And how long do they think little Rowan will be in the NICU?"

Mia exhaled slowly, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "They're keeping me another night, maybe two. They want to keep an eye on my blood pressure and make sure everything's healing right."

Mark nodded, the gears in his mind spinning.

"And Rowan?" April asked softly, moving closer.

They're thinking a week could be longer. She's doing well, just small. They want to make sure she can regulate her temperature and keep feeding consistently."

Charlotte squeezed Mia's hand gently. "She's strong. I can feel it."

Mia smiled at her. "She is. She's already bossing the nurses around with those little squeaks."

The women exchanged quiet laughs, the kind that masked a swirl of feelings too big to say out loud.

Heather glanced at April and Ashley before speaking up. "Hey, Mia… about Saturday. The baby shower…"

April jumped in. "We can cancel or postpone. Obviously."

Ashley nodded quickly. "We've already got everything ready, but honestly, it's no pressure at all."

Mia's eyes softened as she looked at them. "Are you kidding me? You three have been planning that thing for weeks."

"We just want what's best for you," Heather said gently.

"I still want to have it," Mia said firmly. "More than ever now. I mean, it might be more of a celebration than a 'shower' now, but I'd love it. Especially if I'm out by then."

April beamed. "Okay, then it's on."

"Same time, same place. And we'll bring the cupcakes to you if we have to," Ashley added with a wink.

Across the room, Jessie stood with Frank and Jeremy, chatting quietly until he raised his voice just enough to get everyone's attention.

"Hey," he said, glancing toward Max's parents. "Just so you all know — our place still has plenty of room. We meant it when we offered. Stay as long as you need."

Frank smiled, looking grateful. "That's kind of you, Jessie. Thank you."

"We've got extra rooms, a stocked fridge, and Heather made enough lasagna yesterday to feed a small army," Jessie added with a smirk.

"You'll regret saying that," Jeremy said with a laugh. "Dad can eat half a pan by himself."

"Guilty," Frank grinned, patting his stomach.

The room bubbled with warm laughter again, and for a moment, it didn't feel like a hospital at all. It felt like home, surrounded by people who showed up, held space, and carried each other through.

Mia leaned into Max's shoulder, her hand resting over her still-flat belly, where a baby no longer kicked — but whose heartbeat she could still feel echoing inside her.

They were a family now. And whatever came next, they'd face it together.

By the time the nurse poked her head in to remind everyone visiting hours were coming to a close, the room was full of yawns, tired smiles, and slow goodbyes.

"It's almost eight," Charlotte said gently, her voice a little hoarse from a long day of happy tears and emotional highs. "We'll let you two get some rest."

"You need it," Ashley added, giving Mia's hand one last squeeze before stepping back.

Frank leaned down to kiss Mia on the cheek. "You're amazing, sweetheart. We'll see you tomorrow."

Mia smiled as each of them said their goodbyes, but her focus shifted when she turned toward Max. He hadn't moved from his spot by the window, arms crossed, looking like a man rooted to the floor.

"You should go home and sleep," she said softly, reaching for his hand.

He looked at her like she'd grown another head. "Not happening."

"Max—"

"Nope." He sat down beside her, stubborn as ever. "You're not doing this alone. Not tonight."

She let out a tired breath, but deep down, she didn't want him to leave either. "You're just lucky this room came with an extra bed."

He grinned, the first real one in hours. "See? It's fate."

Heather stepped into the hallway, holding a small duffel bag. "April and I ran by the house earlier and grabbed you some stuff."

Max raised a brow. "You two are saints."

"Shower's down the hall," April said, already walking toward the bathroom door. "There's a toothbrush in there, too. Don't argue, just go."

Max looked down at his rumpled shirt, still faintly streaked with baby formula and anxiety. "Yeah… okay, fair."

A few minutes later, he emerged wearing a soft gray T-shirt and worn athletic shorts, freshly scrubbed and finally looking like himself again.

"You clean up pretty well," Mia teased sleepily as he sat on the edge of the second bed.

"You say that like I wasn't the most attractive man in this room all day."

"You were also the only man in the room for a solid two hours."

"Details," he said, grinning.

The door creaked open, and Jessie peeked in. "Hey, we're heading out. Gonna follow my lovely wife and your whole crew back to the ranch."

"Thanks again for hosting everyone," Max said, standing to give him a quick hug.

"You'd do the same. Just call if you need anything."

"Goodnight, Mia," Heather added, poking her head in behind him. "Get some rest, okay?"

"I'll try," Mia said with a soft smile. "Thanks for everything."

The room settled into stillness after the door clicked shut. Outside, the hallway dimmed. The hospital's nighttime quiet set in — a hushed lull filled with occasional monitor beeps and distant footsteps.

Max pulled the thin blanket over himself, lying just a few feet from Mia, eyes locked on her in the low light.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Still wrapping my head around the fact that she's here."

"Me too." He reached his hand out across the space between their beds, palm up.

She reached back without hesitation, her fingers curling into his. And just like that, the day ended — not with fanfare, not with chaos — but with two hands clasped together in the quiet.

Together, even now.

The room was dark, save for the soft glow of a single lamp in the corner. The hum of machines and the gentle rhythm of Mia's breathing filled the space like a lullaby.

Max lay still, staring at the ceiling. His body was heavy with exhaustion, but sleep refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her — tiny and perfect, wrapped up like a burrito with a hospital cap snug on her dark curls. Rowan.

A glance at the clock on the wall: 2:07 a.m.

Carefully, Max sat up and reached for his walking cast, wincing a bit as he slid it on. His body still protested with every movement — a lingering reminder of the accident that had nearly rewritten their story.

He glanced over at Mia, who was finally sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The stress in her face had melted away in sleep, her features soft and calm.

He kissed the top of her hand gently before pulling the blanket up around her shoulders.

The hallway was empty as Max made his way toward the NICU, the quiet interrupted only by the rubbery echo of his steps and the soft creak of his walking boot. He moved slowly, carefully — not just because of his injuries, but because there was something sacred about hospital hallways at night, like the world had hit pause.

When he reached the wide observation window, his breath caught in his throat.

There she was.

Rowan lay tucked in her incubator, tiny arms folded close to her chest. Her chest rose and fell in that delicate newborn rhythm, her lips parted slightly in sleep.

Max pressed his hand to the glass, heart thudding. He hadn't known it was possible to miss someone you just met. But he missed holding her already. Missed the way her fingers had curled around his pinky like she already knew him.

He whispered to the glass, not caring if anyone heard.

"I'll be here. Every night. Every day. No matter what, little girl."

After a few minutes, he headed back to the room. By the time he settled back onto the small hospital bed, his body finally gave in to sleep.