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Thankfully I kept my camera on the bedside table, so I picked it up and snapped a photograph.
“That’s going to be perfect.” I smiled at him as he put her into my arms. “Thank you for changing her for me.”
“Of course,” he said, settling himself back into bed beside us. Ethan had helped me so much in the first days when I came home from the hospital. The incision from my C-section still hurt and the pain meds made me sleepy. So he’d gotten into a routine of getting up and bringing her to me for feeding in the night. He waited until she was finished, and then put her back in the bassinet again. Sometimes he’d burp her for me, too. Once he’d gotten the hang of things, he was really good at handling her, with one exception. His big hands and fingers didn’t work too well with putting her into tiny outfits with mini snaps and closures.
“So you had trouble with the sleeper again?” I said, as I opened the flap on the nursing bra I now wore around the clock. Wearing it was better than waking up in a puddle of milk.
“Yeah. It’s hard to get her arms into the sleeves.”
“I know. I heard you.” As soon as Laurel smelled the milk she started rooting for my nipple. Her little bow lips latched on and she started to suckle, her tiny hand fisting above my breast. “I heard that sweet little f-bomb you sang to her, too.”
“Shit,” he muttered. I looked over at him and laughed. “I’m going to have to work on that with her. Sorry. My mouth is filth.”
“I love your mouth, but yeah, it is filthy, and this little angel will copy everything you say and do. She’s her daddy’s girl.”
He looked happy at my prediction, his blue eyes lighting up in a smile. “You think so?” he asked softly.
“I know so, baby.”
“I love you both so much,” he said slowly, his simple words full of deep emotion, and heartfelt truth. He brought his lips to mine and kissed me lovingly, and then he leaned back into the pillows and watched over us both.
DAWN was breaking as I woke. I was alone in our bedroom. When I saw the lavender roses, I remembered the day and smiled. Valentine’s Day. Our first one, in fact. I looked at what had been left out for me by my romantic husband.
Beneath the vase of flowers, an envelope was propped beside a black velvet jewelry box. I opened the box first. It was another vintage piece from his family’s collection no doubt, and it was beautiful—a filigree butterfly pendant with a large ruby for its body. So perfect for me. I slipped the chain over my head and admired it. I would love wearing this necklace as a reminder of my butterfly angel.
I reached for his letter and read it.
My Beauty,
Every day since the first day, you have made my life worth living. You make me wake up every single day knowing that I am a blessed man. With you, I am real. You made me real when you walked into that gallery and looked up to see me. You are the only one. The only person ever able to really see me. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life loving you. That’s all I want, all I need.
Forever yours,
E
Brushing the joyful tears from my face, I got out of bed, and went to find my loving husband, so I could thank him for his precious gift.
28th February
London
“DO you know what today is?” I asked from my spot on the rug.
“Of course I know. I’m good with dates,” she said smugly.
“All right then, what is today, missus?”
“It’s Laurel’s original due date, mister.”
Not a surprise to me that she knew. Brynne remembered the important things. Our baby girl was three weeks old today, and growing like a weed. She had gained nearly a pound too, which was a good thing, because she was simply too tiny when she was born, in my opinion. But she was a strong little nurser. A fighter, just like her mum.
Right now, the two of us were indulging Mummy as she organized us for a photograph she wanted. Brynne was becoming quite the photographer, and took pictures of Laurel and me all the time now. This particu
lar shot was one she’d seen on a pinning site and showed to me, asking if she could recreate the scene with our baby once it was born. Today was the day, apparently.
The first step had been to nurse Laurel into a milk-coma. Then Brynne strategically placed her on my back while she was asleep, so my tattooed wings appeared to be hers, making her look like a little baby angel. She already was anyway, so why not have a photograph of her as one?
“How do we look?” I asked, her camera clicking away.
