Page 102 of Say We've Found Forever
Joyful, post-birth oxytocin replaces the tornado of pain and stress. She’ll feel like she got hit by a truck later, she’s certain of that, but at the moment, everything is pleasantly numb. All her nerves tingle in the best way, and her heart is fuller than she thought it could be.
“Emma, we were right the whole time. You have a sister.” Addison encourages her daughter to come closer.
“Are you okay?” Emma asks carefully.
“I’m better than okay. I promise. Everything’s fine now.”
Emma said she wasn’t scared, but she’s vibrating in silent horror. Her terror is no doubt fueled by the addition of the runners but encouraged by Addison’s screams in the throes of labor.
“She’s so small,” Emma whispers, one finger reaching out to touch the baby, checking to see if she’s real.
“You were this little once. Five pounds and not an ounce more.”
“I was?”
“You were.” Addison nods, pleased to see Emma’s worry begin to settle as she fixates on this new addition.
When she turns her head, Wyatt is watching them like he’s an outsider, mesmerized but not invited. He’d never voice such a thing, not in a million years, but she can see a trace of that longing in his gaze.
She had to make sure her first child wasn’t completely traumatized, but now all she wants is to reaffirm the connection she knows they share. His attention flickers from the baby up to her face, and she offers him a slow smile, lashes fluttering in a soft blink that mimics all those cat-like ones he’s fond of giving her.
She cradles the baby with one hand and feathers her thumb across his fine-edged cheekbone with the other, encouraging his lips down to hers.
It’s a salty kiss that bonds them together all over again, peppered with a declaration he whispers against her mouth. “Love you so much. I’m so proud of you.”
They made it. They’re together. What felt like an impossible end is only the beginning.
* * *
Wyatt dumped the runners outside, installed a makeshift brace for both doors, and even ran her a bath so she could wash off the remnants of the day.
It’s late now, with nothing but the shimmer of moonlight dancing across the bedroom. Emma is asleep on one side of her, and this little person in her arms just finished her second meal. There’s a peace here that Addison never expected. Not from the moment she found out she was pregnant, and even up until this very second, she doubted that reality would ever be so kind.
“I read those books too, you know.” She rubs a gentle hand over a tiny back until the baby burps. “Unbutton your shirt.”
Wyatt’s confused, but does as she asks without question, opening each button until all the scars that led him here lay bare.
“Lean back a little, put her right on your chest.” She offers him the half-sleeping baby, and that’s when he must remember that chapter about skin-to-skin contact and how important it is for the father to have these moments.
There’s something especially heartbreaking about seeing her innocent child, so untouched by this world, pressed gently to the raised bumps and lines inflicted on someone who’s already suffered through it.
Wyatt isn’t outwardly emotional if he can help it. She’s seen him struggle to hide what’s in his heart so often she’s lost count, but this time he’s open to her from the start. Every moment that he must have wished for acceptance or suffered alone. Every second he thought he’d live the rest of his life on the outside looking in, it all flashes across his face only to be soothed by the sweetest embrace.
He cradles her in the same hands that have protected this family in such brutal ways. Her daughter’s chubby fingers clutch one of his, her hand too small to make it all the way around.
What an unexpected thing to see hope grow within these walls when so much outside of them is consumed by ash.
“I can’t stop staring at her. You did this. Made this whole person. She’s got your nose.”
“We made her together, don’t forget.” Addison smiles, leaning her head against his shoulder. “That little scowl when she’s hungry? She definitely gets that from you.”
He snorts, ducking his head with a half laugh and looking up through long lashes. Then he’s nuzzling against her forehead, dipping down to press a kiss to her hairline. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. Tired, but okay. I wanna sleep, but I’m afraid to.”
“Why?”
“Because everything is so perfect. I don’t want to risk it not being real.”
