Page 144 of Through the Storm

Grandma is already in love. I see that it pains her to give the baby back, but she does. She steps out to let Caroline and James meet their grandson.

Caroline comes in first, her expression composed until she sees the baby, then it shatters.

“Oh my,” she breathes. “He’s so precious.”

James follows, just as undone.

Ben clears his throat. “Mom, Dad. Meet?—”

Caroline crosses the room and pulls him into a fierce hug. “I know,” she says thickly. She turns to me, eyes shining. “Thank you for him.”

My throat tightens. “He’s pretty incredible.”

James nods approvingly at the bassinet. “He looks just like Ben when he was born.”

Caroline laughs softly and lifts the baby with practiced care, cradling him like she’s been waiting her whole life for this exact moment.

“That’s it, James. We’re moving.”

Ben blinks. “What?”

She shrugs. “We were already considering it. And now—” She looks down at her grandson, smiling. “Now it’s settled.”

“I couldn’t agree more, honey.”

They don’t stay long. They don’t linger. They tell me I’m amazing and the baby is beautiful, then filter out with hugs and quiet congratulations.

When the room finally empties, Ben closes the door and leans back against it, exhaling.

“You still okay?” he asks.

I nod, reaching for his hand. “Yeah. I really am.”

Ben squeezes my fingers, then glances over at the bassinet like he still can’t believe it’s real.

“We did good,” he murmurs.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

katy

HOT DAD ALERT

Ben has been stayingwith me and Mini-Ben at Grandma Patty’s since we got home from the hospital. We’ve also finally settled on a name. Benjamin Patrick. It just stuck. And watching Ben puff up with pride every time someone calls the baby Mini-Ben makes me ridiculously sappy.

So Mini-Ben Davis it is.

Mini-Ben is currently asleep on his dad’s chest, tucked against bare skin like he knows exactly where he belongs.

Ben leans back on the couch, one arm curved protectively around him, the other resting loose at his side. He’s half awake, eyes heavy, jaw relaxed in a way I don’t see often. Yet it’s becoming more and more common. His shirt is discarded somewhere nearby, his wavy dark blond hair a mess.

And I can’t stop staring at the baby’s tiny fist curled into Ben’s collarbone. At the slow rise and fall of Ben’s chest. At how natural he looks, like this is who he was always meant to be. I’m pretty sure nothing beats the sight of Ben’s muscular chest with our newborn asleep on it. My heart feels like it might explode. I’m too happy.

He catches me staring and smiles. “Like what you see?”

“I love it. I love you so much, Ben,” I blurt out. The words are out before I can think better of them.

He stills. Then his eyes open slowly, finding mine. Soft and certain.