“If you don’t stop pacing, Lucian, I am going to ask the nurses to sedate you instead of me.”

Celeste’s voice was strained, punctuated by a sharp intake of breath as another contraction rippled through her. She was gripped the metal railing of the hospital bed, her knuckles white, her forehead slick with a fine sheen of sweat. Despite the pain, her eyes remained fixed on her husband, who was currently wearing a path into the high-end linoleum of the St. Luke’s VIP delivery suite.

Lucian stopped mid-stride. He looked like he had been plugged into a high-voltage socket. His hair, usually groomed to perfection, was a chaotic mess where...