Page 44 of Play Dirty

"Okay," Dr. Patterson says. "Now, Nora. Push."

I push.

And it hurts. God, it hurts more than anything I've ever felt. More than fear, more than heartbreak, more than that moment in the parking lot when I thought Castellano's men would drag me back.

But I keep pushing.

Because that's what I do now. I don't run. I don't hide. I fight.

Marcus is talking to me. Telling me I'm doing great, I'm almost there, just a little more. His voice is the only thing I can focus on besides the pain.

"Come on, baby," he says. "You've got this. Our girl wants to meet you."

Our girl.

I push harder.

"That's it!" Dr. Patterson sounds excited. "Head's out. One more big push, Nora. That's all you need."

One more.

I can do one more.

I gather every ounce of strength I have left. Every bit of courage that got me here. Every moment of survival, of fighting, of refusing to give up.

And I push.

The pain peaks, white-hot and all-consuming—

And then suddenly it's gone.

Replaced by the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

Crying.

Our daughter is crying.

"She's here," Dr. Patterson announces. "Congratulations, you two. You have a healthy baby girl."

Marcus makes a sound. Something between a laugh and a sob. His hand is shaking in mine. I can't see through the tears. Can't see anything except blurry shapes moving around. But I can hear her. My daughter. Crying and alive and real.

"Do you want to cut the cord, Dad?" someone asks.

"Yeah," Marcus says. His voice is wrecked. "Yeah, I do."

There's movement. Sounds I don't register. All I know is Marcus is standing, moving away from me for just a moment.

And then she's there.

They place her on my chest. Warm and wet and perfect.

My daughter.

She's tiny. So impossibly tiny. With a shock of dark hair and eyes that are trying to focus. Her little fists are clenched, waving in the air like she's already ready to fight the world.

"Hi," I whisper. My voice breaks. "Hi, baby girl. I'm your mom."

She stops crying. Just for a second. Like she recognizes my voice. Marcus is back at my side. Staring down at our daughter with an expression I've never seen on his face before. Wonder. Pure, unfiltered wonder.