“She’s here,” I whispered. “We’re parents.”
“She’s perfect,” he said. “Just perfect.”
Leilani sobbed quietly, her body spent, her face radiant. She held the baby against her, cradling her gently before looking up at me and Cal. “Are you ready to hold your daughter?” she asked.
We nodded.
And when I took her in my arms—our daughter, pink and wrinkled and still a little squished from the journey—I forgot how to breathe again.
Her face was full of bewilderment and wonder and promise. “Hi,” I murmured softly. “Hi you. We’re your daddies.”
She was warm.
She was real.
She was beautiful.
I looked at Cal.
And then at Leilani.
And then I whispered the one thing that mattered most in that moment—
“Thank you.”
CHAPTER 33
The breeze stirredthe leaves above us, dappling sunlight across the grass in soft, sleepy shapes.
We sat under the tree behind the hospital.
It wasn’t a fancy tree, or even pretty.
Just a big old thing with giant roots and branches that reached out like it wanted to hold us.
Leilani sat curled against the trunk, a blanket around her shoulders. Cal leaned back beside her, legs stretched out. And I sat close, cross-legged on the grass, the baby sleeping quietly in my arms.
Our daughter.
She was so still.
So tiny.
So heartbreakingly precious, wrapped in swaddling and fast asleep, her little brow furrowed like she was already pondering the mysteries of the universe… or maybe just trying to remember how she got here.
Nobody spoke for a while.
We just… were.
Eventually Leilani said, “I think she knows.”
Cal looked over. “Knows what?”
“That she’s loved. That we’re here. That this world—at least for now—is holding her gently.”
I looked down at her beautiful face. Her mouth twitched. One crinkly little hand curled and uncurled around my enormous finger.
“She’s magic,” I said softly.
