Jake and I spin around and face Sofia, who’s now leaning up against the wall. The bottom back of her green dress is noticeably saturated and liquid drips down her legs, leaving a trail on the carpet behind her.

“Wow—that’s a lot of water. You could drown a puppy in that much water.”

“I’ll call Stanton,” Jake volunteers.

Sofia holds up her hand. “No! He’s in court, and I don’t want him driving the Porsche to the hospital—he might kill someone or himself.” She takes a deep, cleansing breath and assumes her drill sergeant persona. “Jake, go to court and bring Stanton to the hospital. Mrs. Higgens knows where he is. Brent, have Harrison bring the car around—then take me to the house to get my bag and then to the hospital.” Her lips pucker and she exhales slowly—almost whistling.

Everything else disintegrates in the light of this monumental development. Because even though Sofia is chanting everything is fine to no one in particular, her face is tight and pale. She’s shaking scared, and she’s one of my best friends in the whole world. She needs me.

Jake and I move at the same time—him out the door, me sweeping Sofia up into my arms. Her hands clasp around the back of my neck even as she says, “I’m in labor, Brent, not an invalid. I can walk.”

“Of course you can—but why should you have to when you have a manly man like me around?”

As I head down the stairs, I adjust Sofia’s considerable mass in my arms. And of course, she notices.

“If you tease me about how heavy I am, I’ll rip your beard hairs out.”

“Tease? Me?” I grin. “I would never tease a woman about her weight—especially a pregnant woman.” I make it down the last step, then add, “Although . . . I think my titanium prosthetic just bent under the strain.”

She pinches me. On my neck, my arms—anywhere she can reach.

“Ow, Jesus! No pinching! Pinching is not cool!”

Sofia’s got a lethal finger grip. Her older brothers, who teased her mercilessly, must’ve looked like Dalmatians growing up, ’cause I doubt she took that shit lying down.

But as I carry her out to the sidewalk, she’s laughing. So my mission for now is accomplished.

And sixteen hours later, Sofia’s mission is accomplished too. Because that’s when our law firm’s first baby comes screaming—arguing—into the world.

• • •

“Samuel, huh?”

I peer down at the bundle of sleeping, sweet-smelling baby in my arms. People always talk about how newborns have their mother’s lips or their father’s nose, but I never got that. They all just look like babies. Insanely cute, but pretty much the same.

“So, you guys are doing the S thing? As if Sofia and Stanton Shaw wasn’t nauseating enough?”

Stanton tilts back in the pleather recliner beside Sofia’s hospital bed. He picks a green grape from the bag on his lap and pops it into his mouth. “Nah, he just looks like a Samuel.”

“He looks like an alien.”

At Sofia’s frown, I amend that statement. “An adorable alien, but still, he’s got a head on him. How’d that feel coming out?”

Sofia smiles sweetly. “I hope you get kidney stones, so you can find out.”

Then we sit in companionable silence for a few moments. Until Sofia gently prods, “Have you talked to Kennedy?”

My heart squeezes until my whole body throbs. My anger bled out sometime last night. Now I just ache for her.

“No.”

Stanton pops in another grape. “Why not?”

“I’m still hoping she’ll come to her senses.”

“Do you love her?” Sofia turns to her husband with an open mouth. “Hit me.”

He effortlessly lands a grape in her mouth.

I brush my knuckle across Samuel’s perfect hand, imagining how it’d feel to hold a tiny newborn girl with blond hair. “Yes, I love her.”

“Then fucking fix it, man,” Stanton insists. “You had a fight; you said things you didn’t mean—welcome to Relationship Land. But you don’t break up over a fight. Not if you love her.”

Sofia talks as she chews. “He’s right. If we broke up every time we disagreed about something, Samuel’s home would’ve been broken a long time ago.”

Stanton nods.

Sofia’s voice is sincere with experience. “It’s scary, I know. Giving someone that kind of power over you—accepting that your happiness will forever hinge on theirs. But it’s worth it.” She reaches out and Stanton takes her hand, giving her a secret smile.

Words from two decades ago echo in my head and slip out of my mouth. “The ride is the only thing that makes the fall worth it.”

Sofia’s head tilts curiously and I shrug. “A smart, fearless girl told me that once.”

Stanton grins. “She sounds like a keeper.”

Damn straight she is.

• • •

In my head, I act out every sappy grand gesture teenage girls fantasize about. I stand outside her bedroom window with a boom box over my head. I run through the airport, catch her moments before she boards the plane, and profess my undying love. I completely redecorate my home office, put her desk right next to mine, to prove to her how much I want her in my life.

In reality—I don’t do any of those things.

Because this isn’t a movie—this is real life. And Kennedy and I are the realest thing I’ve ever known.