She's joking right? Just to cover up she might have peed her pants or whatever. Right?

Dr. Diaz said the baby is due next week, not today. I had like no time to prepare. At all.

I'm still denying her giving birth even though we're already in a hospital room and like a million nurses keep checking on Sierra, throwing some numbers around and talking gibberish.

"Dr. Diaz will check in on you in a little while," one of the nurses tells Sierra, smiling at her warmly. "You're not dilated enough, so there's no rush yet. But as it can happen pretty quickly, check ins on you will become more frequently."

Sierra nods like she understood every single word. Perhaps she did. I certainly didn't.

The nurse talks a bit more gibberish to us and then leaves the room. You see, I used to think I was smart but clearly being at a hospital proves me wrong. I have absolutely no idea what they're all talking about.

But that doesn't matter right now. "Should I call Cody and inform him about your condition?" Is there another way to even phrase this?

Sierra shakes her head. "No," she says, looking up at me through her lashes. "You can't tell anyone for another few days, please. The second people know, they'll want to show up and meet her. But I really don't want that yet."

Not sure why that is, but I can totally live with that. How couldn't I? Keeping my wife and my daughter for myself? As if I'd ever say no to that.

"Don't get me wrong, I want your family to know, and Cody of course, but just not yet. I just want a couple of days calming down and finding my strength again. Plus, I really don't want to risk her getting sick right away. Her immune system is going to be so weak, perhaps none existent still. I'm just afraid something might happen. She's not been in contact with anyones bacteria yet and—"

I press my lips to Sierra's in order to shut her up. I think she might be worrying too much about everything, but I can't say I'm not freaking out either. I fucking am.

Just when I pull away from the kiss, Sierra grabs my hand in hers and squeezes so tightly, she might actually break a few bones. But I suppose a broken hand isn't half as painful as giving birth.

She falls back in the examine chair, groaning. "That's gonna hurt like hell." Her eyes meet mine, and something about the way she looks at me tells me that Sierra has a question lingering in her mind. One she isn't voicing.

"Sierra" I push her hair back from her forehead then press a kiss to it. "Before this baby is born, I need you to understand something."

She shakes her head, her hand tightening around mine once again. This time she lets out a pain filled scream. One she tries to mute by covering her mouth with her free arm. If I could, I'd take every ounce of pain away from her. Unfortunately, that's not possible.

Despite Sierra shaking her head, I tell her anyway. "I love you, Sierra. I know you don't want to believe me, but I do. And I won't walk out of this hospital in a couple of days and let you continue to think we're only together on paper."

"I can't—" her head falls back, eyes pressing shut as another of these contractions happens. They shouldn't come so fast when she's not seconds away from giving birth, right? I have absolutely no idea. "—say it back, Atlas."

"I know, and that's alright." I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. What Sierra doesn't know, I'm aware that she loves me too. If she didn't, she wouldn't still be sticking around, not even for this child. Especially not for this child.

I might be able to buy half the world, but there are still over a million men out there who'd make a way better father than me. I know Sierra hates my eating habits, and she's afraid I might "ruin our daughter" with them, which has always been a great reason for her to leave.

She knows I don't act all nice and loving in public spaces, even tend to be a complete asshole. The change in behaviour is another reason for her to leave.

We've gotten married for a baby—for our daughter. Or so she thinks. Which is, yet again, another reason to leave me. Our relationship was build on two adults suddenly having to work together for the sake of our child, not love.

She stuck around for this long, if there wasn't an ounce of love for me inside of her, she would've gone crazy by now.

The door opens and Dr. Diaz walks inside with a huge smile on her face. She greets us, then gets right to Sierra. "Mrs. Storm, have you decided on whether or not you want an epidural?"

What the hell is that?

"I'm not sure. The side effects creep me out."

Dr. Diaz chuckles. "I can promise you, nerve damage is happening in 1 to 4000. The risks are low in general, and you're still young, you should be fine."

Sierra sighs, then nods her okay before actually voicing her agreement.

She turns her head towards me, slowly blinking as she says "if I die, you better not name her something ridiculous." Dr. Diaz laughs, and perhaps I would join her if we weren't talking about my wife's death.

"You're not going to die, sweetheart," I tell her, but then find myself looking at Dr. Diaz. "Right?"

"Complications during birth happen all the time. There's always a risk of death." Oh, cool. Someone should have told me that before I went and got my wife pregnant. Not that it was planned; and not that we were even in a relationship when that happened. "But, Sierra is healthy. As of now, it doesn't seem like there will be any major complications. She should be fine."

That's just something that doctors say to ease nerves, right? Yeah, they should work on that, because it doesn't fucking work.

"You're at five centimetres dilation, we should induce the epidural now or it won't be as affective anymore," Dr. Diaz speaks, sounding way too nice for someone who just told me there's a chance my wife might die.

Another few hours pass, Sierra's contractions grow more frequent, but as she says, they're so much less painful thanks to the epidural. I still have no idea what the hell that this is, but if it eases her pain, I'm good with it.

Though, the thought of her dying is still in the back of my head, stinging in my heart. I can't, nor do I want to imagine a life without Sierra in it. She will have to survive this. I won't accept anything else.

"I'm so sweaty," Sierra complains with a groan, making one of the nurses laugh. All these hospital people are way too happy for my liking.

I don't remember them being like that when my mother gave birth and I had to watch three other kids because my parents were obviously busy. I also don't recall births taking so long, and I had to wait for a couple of those in my life.

"I probably look like I haven't showered in months, just ran a marathon and like I'm exhausted as shit. Which I feel like all at the same time."

I'm being handed a half-wet cloth, then told I should use it to wipe off the sweat from Sierra's forehead. I do as I'm told, which apparently is all wrong because Sierra looks at me like she's about to murder me.

I have all my money bet on her surviving and me being dead by the end of this day. If looks could kill, I would have died an hour ago. And again right now.

"Sierra, you need to start pushing," Dr. Diaz says, smiling up at my wife from between her legs. Okay. I guess there's that. Pushing means we're getting real close, right? Totally cool, I'm not going to panic.

As Sierra starts to push, I do start to think my hand is already broken. Perhaps my entire arm at this point. But the thought is quickly forgotten when she starts to cuss me out and I have to suppress breaking out in laughter.

"You fucking asshole!" She screams right into my face, groaning. "Why'd you have to get me pregnant?"

"A baby seemed all great at that time," I answer, only receiving a glare from her. One that tells me that in her head, she's stabbing me with a knife right now. That look only intensifies when I can no longer hold back my laughter. "This is not the time to find your humour, asshole!"

I kiss the side of her head, whispering, "I'm sorry, sweetheart" which seems to shut her up for a while. Well, not long enough because a short moment later she's screaming again as she has to push.

I'm not sure how much later, baby cries sound through the room. A second after that, Dr. Diaz lies my daughter down on Sierra's chest, allowing us a moment with her before they'd take her again.

Sierra is crying, smiling at the same time, kissing the top of our daughter's head. "My god," she breathes. "She looks adorable."

"She looks like a ball of old cheese," I say, earning a well deserved slap from my wife—and a bit of a laugh.

"I hate you, Atlas." Oh, but she doesn't.

-♡-

It's a couple hours later, Sierra is fast asleep looking all peaceful. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I could watch her sleep for the rest of my life and I'd never get bored.

And now, I have a daughter, too. I bet she'll grow up looking just like her mother. As far as I can tell, they have the same nose. Hers is just a lot tinier.

We still haven't decided on a name, much to the nurses dismay. Felt like hourly one comes asking if we have a name so they can fill in the documents. But now that it's four in the morning, they're giving us some peace.

I know I said I wouldn't tell anyone about Sierra giving birth yet, but I can't possibly keep that from my mother. She would be mad at me for decades if I don't tell her.

So I snap a picture of my daughter and send it to my mother. She barely knows how to work a phone, but Winter taught her all about iMessage and how to send texts. And make calls.

I don't expect an answer from her given the time, which is why I almost drop my goddamn child when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Looking at Sierra, I find it really damn difficult to disobey her wishes. But also, I can't possibly ignore my mother's call.

So I pick up, speaking quietly not to wake up my wife.

"ATLAS!" My mother screams into the phone. "THAT IS A BABY!"

No shit. "Really? I thought I sent you a picture of a baby elephant."

"Ha ha, very funny. Now, why do you send me a picture of a baby, at four in the morning?"

I blink a few time. How dare I think she could put two and two together. "Mum, that's your granddaughter."

She shrieks a little in excitement, laughing and saying how great that is, how adorable my daughter is and how she looks exactly like Sierra. I've no idea how my mother can see her look like anyone right now, but I'll just accept that. She should know.

"I thought she looked like a cheeseball."

"Oh, Atlas," my mother sighs. "Your father said the exact same thing about you."

"See, babies clearly look like old cheese."

"I'm so happy for you, Atlas," my mother speaks, the smile on her face being audible. "It was about time someone got you back to your senses. Sierra is truly holding you by your neck, isn't she?"

Is she? "I don't think so, mum. I'm just really madly in love with her. I'd do anything for her to be happy."

"Of course. Being a bit more yourself with everyone else, and not just your wife, won't hurt you, you know." Do mothers always do this? Talk sentimental and like they've known what you needed all these years? "You've always had a thing for blondes."

"Huh?" I don't remember dating even one blonde woman.

"Sierra. It was about time she came back into your life and brought back the same loving boy that fell in love with her at the age of fourteen." How the hell? What? My silence is loud enough for my mother to laugh. Is she a mind-read, too? "Your self-build wall was never high enough for me to not look over it, Atlas. Even after your father's death, there was still something, or rather someone, that lit up a fire in you. And for whatever reasons, that fire came when you got to go to Cody's. There had to be something at his house you were looking forward to. So I dug a little deeper."

"So you knew Sierra?" How? I couldn't even see her again for fourteen years. There is no way my mother got a hold of her.

Chuckling, my mother says, "I knew her. I met her a couple of times when she was younger, even when she was a little older."

I have so many questions, but I don't get to ask as I notice Sierra looking at me. How much of this conversation has she heard?

"I've got to go, mum. But don't think this conversation is over; you have some explaining to do." With that said, I hang up the phone, lay the baby into the provided crib and walk over to Sierra.

I lie with her, pulling her into my arms, hugging her. "Atlas," she says breathy. "Let me explain—"

"I don't want an explanation. I've got you now, and I'll keep you. I don't care that you've known my mother and didn't tell me. I really couldn't care less about any of it. What's important is that I love you, we're together now and we have a daughter. A little girl that looks like a cheeseball. And what also matters is that you love me, too, even when you can't admit to it yet."

Sierra's head lies on my chest, though I don't think she should lie like that. Not because of me, but because just a couple of hours ago, Sierra gave birth to a tiny human.

"Sierra?" I say quietly, thinking she may have fallen back asleep.

"Atlas?" Or not.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart." I kiss her softly, carefully. I'm not sure why I'm being too careful with her lips. I just know it's been a while and the epidural is slowly wearing off, letting Sierra feel some pain. Probably not in her lips but still. Better too careful than hurting her.

"It's not my birthday."

I chuckle. "It is. February 21st."

"Yeah but that's tomorrow."

"No, that's today." I show her my phone, letting her see the time and date.

Her eyes widen, though she quickly presses them shut again. "When was she born?"

"February 21st at 12:22 a.m."

"Oh, God." Sierra attempts to laugh but it turns more into an "ouch." "Imagine having to share a birthday with your mother. How depressing."

"The cheeseball is going be fine. She'll get tons of presents every year, more visitors than you, too, because you don't have friends."

"I have tons of friends." She adjusts the position of her head on my chest. "I have Athena, and Beau."

"I accept Athena. Beau Cromwell not so much."

"Is that some jealousy I sense, Mr. Storm?"

"No, I'd say that's called possessiveness. I'm not jealous, because I already know you're mine. And there is no way you're ever going to be anyone else's." Of course she can still have male friends. But not Cromwell. That guy has a crush on my wife, and I will not accept that. Might have to think about firing him.

Sierra chuckles, thinking I'm joking. I am not. Mostly. "You're gonna nickname her cheeseball, aren't you?"

"I so totally am."