Page 138 of The Golden Hour

MASON

“Well, I am very happy to tell you,” Dr. Adonis says, bouncing a giggling Daisy in his arms, “that you have a very healthy, very happy, very adorable three-month-old.”

Daisy smiles at her parents as if she’s even proud of the news, which makes Honey giggle.

Even though he is irritated—and jealous—by how settled his daughter is around him, and how charmingly he smiles at his wife—he can’t help but be happy at his words, at his happy wife next to him, at life in general over the last month.

Not that it’s all been sunshine and rainbows since he quit St. Mary’s.

At night, he’ll sometimes lie there in the guest room, unable to sleep because of the oh fuck what did I just do feeling in his chest. Even worse are the sharp pangs of anxious regret in his gut. He had spent the last four years completing a very difficult residency, only to quit the second he reached the finish line.

It hurts to think about all that work, all those hours, all that time and stress and blood and sweat and tears. Only for it to feel like it amounted to nothing.

And then he’ll hear Daisy cry, and he’ll rush to Honey’s room to get her before his wife wakes up fully. He’ll lift her and bring his hungry daughter to her mommy, ready and waiting.

He’ll perch on the bed with Honey’s permission and watch her breastfeed their girl. He’ll listen to Honey sing softly. He’ll watch Daisy’s eyes look at Honey as if she were the center of the universe, mother and daughter sharing a special bond in these quiet moments.

He doesn’t feel like an outlier anymore. He feels like their protector. The person who allows them to feel safe. He’s their shield, their wall, their fence. Whatever they need. He’ll protect these moments, these people, with his entire being.

Then Honey will look up, see him watching, and she’ll smile at him. Widely. Without hesitation. Without that cloud of resentment or fear or disappointment. She’ll see him, and it makes her smile.

And all those bad feelings just melt. A wave of love so ferocious that it sweeps any regret, any fear away. Just like that. The whole world narrowed to the three of them in the still of the night.

Nothing could ever come close to this feeling.

And that’s perspective.

Sobriety, even from something like his own adrenaline junkie addiction, is a series of conscious choices.

So when he finds himself in those moments again, panicked and wondering if he ruined everything, he does what Mac has told him to do over and over at every meeting.

He makes the next right choice.

There are mistakes.

There are backslides.

There are falls.

And all of them are important, because healing of any kind is not linear, and there’s no timeline.

Not with them, at least.

All he has to do to make the right choice is to think of Honey and Daisy. Like a compass to follow home. It’s easy, and it’s the most difficult thing he has ever done.

And the most rewarding.

Honey is digging through Daisy’s diaper bag, so Dr. Adonis places the little girl in Mason's waiting arms, and Mason feels a jolt of joy that Daisy settles into his chest and giggles happily at the funny face he’s making.

He tries not to look too smug at Dr. Adonis, who just watches the exchange with a smile on his face.

“Thank you so much,” Honey says, pulling Ellie the Elephant out of the bag and waving it in front of Daisy. She holds her hands out for it and then immediately starts gumming at Ellie’s ear.

“Oh,” Honey says, looking at Dr. Adonis. Mason’s jaw clenches when the doctor focuses all of his attention on his wife. He faces her directly, his body language open, his face incredibly friendly, and he smiles that stupid, charming grin at her.

Daisy makes a growling sound around the ear like she senses what he’s feeling, and Mason feels a spark of pride.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Daisy’s head.