She reaches the bed and stops, her hand hovering over Presley as if she’s afraid to touch her.
“Would you like to hold her?”
Carmen’s eyes snap to mine. They’re bright with tears. “May I?”
“She’s named after you.” I ease Presley off my chest, cradling her carefully. “You should be the first.”
Carmen takes her and settles into the chair on my other side, and I watch her face transform. She stares at Presley as if she’s witnessing a miracle.
“She looks like Antonio did,” she says. “When he was born. The same hair. The same little chin.”
Meesha appears at the foot of the bed. “She’s so tiny. Was she always this tiny?”
“She was bigger on the inside,” I say.
Jessa laughs and swats my arm. “You just gave birth and you’re making jokes?”
“Coping mechanism.”
“Fair.” She leans in to look at Presley, who is still sleeping peacefully in Carmen’s arms. “God, Jas. She’s gorgeous. You made a gorgeous baby.”
“Antonio helped.”
“Barely,” Meesha says. “You did all the work.”
“I’m going to remind him of that for the rest of our lives.”
Connor, Kamal and Jaxon hang back, doing that thing men do around newborns where they’re clearly terrified of breaking something. Jaxon gives me a nod and a quiet “Congratulations.” Connor and Kamal smile.
The room fills with quiet chatter. Meesha fusses with the flowers she brought. Jessa dodges Jaxon’s questions about when it will be their turn. Carmen refuses to let go of the baby, and no one has the heart to make her.
Antonio wakes up somewhere in the middle of it, blinking in confusion at the crowd. When his eyes find mine, he smiles.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Like I pushed a watermelon through a keyhole.”
He winces. “She’s really here.”
“She’s really here.”
We watch our daughter together with our friends’ voices serving as a soft chorus around us. Carmen is crying again, happy tears that drip onto Presley’s blanket.
Antonio’s traces circles on my palm, and I glance down at the rings on my finger. We married three weeks ago in his mother’s backyard, with strings of lights woven through the trees and our closest friends watching. When he slid his wedding band on my finger, he whispered, “Minha esposa.” My wife.
The thought still catches me off guard. I’ve spent so long being alone, being careful, being ready to leave before I could be left.
And now I have a husband who worships me, a house with both our names on the deed and a daughter sleeping in her grandmother’s arms.
I think about the road that led here. The accident. The lies I told myself about not needing this, about being fine alone forever. The walls I built so high.
Antonio climbed them until he was standing beside me, asking to stay. And I let him.
Meesha catches my eye from across the room and smiles. Jessa is showing Jaxon something on her phone. Kamal and Connor argue about a hockey game. Carmen hasn’t looked up from Presley once.
This is my family. Not the one I was born into, but the one I chose. The one that chose me back.
“Querida,” Antonio says. “You should sleep.”
