Page 69 of The Golden Hour

He holds Daisy against his chest to bring her over to the little table to change her. Apparently each time he does, she gets a little more used to him.

She does not wake as he carefully takes off the preemie onesie, just like Heather showed him, and changes her diaper. He tries not to breathe through his nose but still gags slightly when he tosses the spoiled diaper out.

He appreciates these moments, though, because they are an opportunity to hold Daisy, to care for her, to do something that eases even a fraction of the weight Honey is carrying as she heals.

Not that Daisy’s making it easy on him with the messes in her diaper.

He gets her into a fresh diaper and onesie, then picks her back up, cradling her to his chest. She is not wiggling or stressed, so he takes this as a win.

Honey looks completely drained as he walks back toward her, head leaning back on the pillow, her blinks getting slower and slower. He goes to place Daisy in the bassinet, but Honey shakes her head.

“Hold her,” she mumbles.

Mason freezes and meets her heavy gaze.

“Let her get used to you. She’ll smell you in her sleep; it’ll bring her comfort.” Honey closes her eyes with a sigh, her words almost slurred from exhaustion. “Used to bring me comfort.”

Mason squeezes his eyes shut.

He focuses on breathing, on the little weight in his arms, on the quiet of this room. Honey’s breathing becomes longer, deeper, and more even as her body finally allows her to sleep.

Good, she needs to rest.

And as she does, he holds their daughter in his arms, his eyes studying her sleepy little features.

When Daisy is deeply asleep, Mason places her in the bassinet beside Honey’s bed. He checks that she is safe, that she is warm enough in her little onesie, and that she’s close to Honey.

Then he grabs the blanket from the foot of the bed. He knows he can’t cover Daisy in it without overheating her, so he goes to Honey instead and lays it carefully across her chest.

A soft smile curves at his lips at the pattern and how well it fits his wife. Ellen did amazing with it, and an ache hits his chest. He should have given this to Honey at the baby shower. Both of them should have opened it in excitement for Daisy. They should have placed it in Daisy’s crib, in preparation for her arrival.

So many things he could have done better.

Slowly, he brushes some of Honey’s blonde hair away from her perfect face.

It is both agony and euphoria to look at her.

Agony because he should have been doing this all along. Appreciating her all along. Caring for her. Holding her hair when she was sick. Massaging her swollen feet. Watching her sleep and feeling grateful instead of treating home like a pit stop between shifts.

Euphoria because fuck, he is pretty sure he has never been more in love with her than he is watching her as a mother.

Then agony again because she’s so disappointed in him.

She does not look at him like she used to, with stars and hearts in her eyes. He remembers that gaze. The way it made him feel invigorated, motivated, and so fucking lucky to have this wonderful person as his. He remembers being a boy and thinking Honey looking at him like that was better than any award, any test score, any praise he could ever earn.

But he forgot.

He replaced that rush with a cheaper, fleeting high.

He’s seen what happens to a family when one of their own is brought into this place on the brink of death.

How could he think that it could never happen to him?

What would he have done if he lost her?

He thinks of all the time he could have spent with her, completely wasted because he was busy chasing a rush. How many nights he should have spent holding her, not passing out in exhaustion. How many mornings holding her hair back and caring for her when she was sick. How many dinners and appointments he missed.

If the worst had happened, would he have been able to live with himself?