Page 62 of The Golden Hour

Mason watches Daisy sigh and settle back onto Honey’s skin, and watches in awe as Honey gently eases their daughter to rest again. She is incredible. He has never been more in love with his wife than he is at this moment, witnessing her as a mother. It is like seeing a miracle.

He almost lost her.

“I promise,” Mason vows, meeting Honey’s chocolate gaze. “I know that doesn’t mean much now, but I will be there for you and for Daisy. I will be her father. I will support you in every single way that I can. Whatever you need, from this day out, I will provide for you. I will place you above everything, Honey. You and Daisy are my entire world. Please believe that, if you don’t believe anything else.”

Honey’s expression remains skeptical, but she nods.

“And I’ll believe it,” she says softly, “when I see it.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HONEY

“It seems that you have inherited your father’s persistence, little flower,” Honey gently murmurs to Daisy at her breast.

She smiles at the little noises Daisy makes, soft and frustrated and determined, as she strokes one gentle finger over the downy dark hair on her daughter’s head.

“He doesn’t do anything in half-measures either.”

Daisy’s heavy-lidded eyes slowly blink at Honey, making her smile widen until her cheeks hurt.

She’s three days old now, and Dr. Farah says everything is developing at a speed that impresses even her. Daisy was early, but she is determined not to let that stop her. Honey likes to think that part comes from both of them.

With the nurses, a lactation specialist, and Dr. Farah’s guidance, they have been able to get Daisy to latch. She does not take many pulls before she tires herself out, and sometimes she seems more interested in being close than actually eating, but the nurses assure Honey that is normal.

Daisy is still learning how to coordinate the suck, swallow, and breathe of it all without exhausting herself.

Honey is still learning too.

She is not producing much milk yet, not after the trauma, the magnesium, the stress, the blood loss, but every drop matters. Or at least that’s what Heather tells her. Every time Daisy latches, it teaches her that her mommy is safe and warm.

All the nurses have been amazing at keeping her fed and are determined to celebrate every win for Honey. It’s hard to feel like a failure with these incredible people supporting you.

And Daisy’s happy place seems to be on her chest, right against her heart.

It’s nighttime, and her parents have gone home again. Her mother had stayed last night, sleeping in the cot they brought in for Mason. She’s not quite sure where her husband has been staying, but she knows from her father that he hasn’t been home.

Her parents have her room all set up for her and Daisy for when they’re discharged, hopefully in two weeks. Her father and Rob brought the crib over from Honey and Mason’s house yesterday. Her mother and Marlene moved all the onesies and diapers over.

Mason spoke with the hospital and helped arrange a NICU family suite, or whatever official name they put on it to make it sound less like what it is. A place where she does not have to leave this hospital without her daughter.

She does not think she could do it.

Daisy has spent the majority of her seventy-two hours of life in Honey’s arms, because Honey is too anxious to truly let her go for long, and Daisy becomes very cranky and stressed when placed down anyway. Dr. Farah has said it is better to keep them both calm and that cuddles are exactly what the doctor is prescribing, as long as Daisy continues to tolerate them.

Demanding them, more like.

Dr. Farah has been so wonderful, and Honey wishes, with an ache deep in her bones, that she had been her doctor from the beginning. Sometimes, even though she knows it is pointless and cruel to herself, Honey walks backward through the possibilities.

In that universe, her marriage is still in tatters, but it’s not really her main focus anyway. She just wishes she could have enjoyed her pregnancy, maybe sought treatment for the preeclampsia, and felt heard and seen.

A decidedly less traumatic delivery would have been nice.

Honey leans down to press a kiss to Daisy’s head, reminding herself, grounding herself. She’s here, she’s safe. That’s what truly matters.

The rest is noise that can be dealt with later.

As her mom told her, healing is day by day. Minute by minute, if it has to be.