“What’s romantic?” Sam mumbles in a somewhat croaking voice from his pieced-together bed.
“Nothing,” I say. “We’re just talking about Ashley Stevenson’s social media.”
He nods and starts the process of unfolding himself from the chairs.
The door to the waiting area suddenly flings open and Eric appears at it.
“Emma. Come on,” he says.
I jump up and rush after him to the room where Bellamy is now positioned in the bed. She reaches for us as we come in and Eric and I each take a hand on either side of her.
“You ready for this?” I ask Bellamy.
“Come on,” she says with a hint of a laugh. “This is nothing.”
It turns out Xavier was right to put the caveat in his greeting to Eric. It’s just before six in the morning when I go to the waiting room for the last time.
“Guys,” I say, “there’s someone who wants to meet you.”
The three tired, grumpy men follow me to the recovery room where they moved Bellamy just a few minutes ago. She’s sitting up in a fresh nightgown, cradling a little pink bundle in her arms. But as soon as they see her, the grumpiness is instantly gone.
“Hi,” Bellamy says softly, looking up from the baby’s face to them. “You can come closer.”
They all creep ahead until they are at her bedside, gazing into the peaceful tiny face.
“Everybody,” Eric says, reaching over from where he’s standing next to me at Bellamy’s head. “This is Emmabelle.”
Bellamy and I look at each other with teary smiles and I lean forward to rest my forehead against hers. I couldn’t believe it when she told me the name she gave her baby girl. It’s an honor I can barely put into words.
Sam and Dean coo over the baby, asking all the expected questions you ask after a baby is born. How long? How much does she weigh? Did she cry a lot?
But I notice Xavier is standing in silence, staring at the baby with his head tilted slightly to the side as if he can’t quite process something.
“You alright, Xavier?” I ask.
He doesn’t look at me but steps up closer to the edge of the bed and reaches his hands out toward the baby. When Bellamy doesn’t immediately move, he wiggles his fingers at her to urge her. She glances at Eric, then carefully places the newborn into Xavier’s hands. He takes her gently and cradles her as he walks across the room to the window at the far side.
Adjusting her position, he leans Emmabelle against his chest while supporting the side of her head so they can look out the window together.
“You see that?” he asks softly. “That’s the sunrise. I wanted you to see the very first sun on your very first day of life. I always like to watch the sun come up on my birthday and I’m honored to share it with you.”
My eyes widen and snap over to Sam, then to Dean. He looks just as surprised as I feel.
“Xavier?” I say.
He turns away from the window with a serene look on his face. “Hmm?”
“Today is your birthday?”
He nods and holds the baby up slightly to display her. “Our birthday.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask.
He shrugs as he settles her onto his shoulder and rocks her tenderly. “Turning another year older doesn’t seem like an accomplishment that needs celebrating. She was just successfully born. That’s worth celebrating.”
Dean crosses the room to him.
“Xavier, another year with you on this earth is definitely worth celebrating.”
“Absolutely, it is. And after everything you’ve been through, the fact that you’re here right now is even more worth celebrating.”
“It is?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “We have to do something special. Think of something you’d like to do.”
He nods. “I will.” He looks at Emmabelle again. “Maybe when you’re a little bigger we can have a joint birthday party. How about unicorns?”
I smile. That seems appropriate.
Twenty-Four
I’m on the phone with my father as we get back to the house a couple hours later. He’s upset he missed the baby’s birth, but work took him out of town for a few days.
“Bellamy will bring her over to meet you when you get back,” I tell him.
“Good. I can’t wait to see her. How’s everything else?” he asks.
I let out a breath. “Still sifting through things. In all the cases.”
“It will come together,” he says. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“You sound exhausted. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in a couple days.”
We get off the phone and I kick off my shoes. Without a word, Xavier heads toward the back of the house and disappears into my bedroom. He’ll sleep in there while Sam and I take over my father’s room and Dean crashes on the couch. I’m exhausted. I know I should be heading right to bed, but I can’t make my brain quiet down.
I suddenly realize I haven’t eaten anything since before we even showed up to the hospital, with the exception of a couple of chips I snagged from Sam during one of my forays into the waiting room, so I head for the kitchen. I don’t have it in me to cook a whole meal. Thank goodness for the frozen burritos my father thinks are delicious, even if his doctor tells him he really shouldn’t be eating them.
I microwave a stack of them and bring them into the living room. Just as I’d expected, Dean is sitting on the couch with his tablet on his lap. Sam is in the chair to the side, leaned over so he can see the screen. I set the plate on the coffee table and go back for drinks.
“What do you think?” I ask Sam, nodding toward the screen.
We don’t even have to talk about not going to sleep or diving right back into the case. It’s obvious we’re all on the same page.
“Do you remember when we were teenagers and
