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“She’s kind of amazing,” he murmurs, a lopsided grin lighting his face.
“Yeah.” Nodding, I get up to take her from him. “She is.”
Once I have her, he stands, an awry look on his face as a dark, wet patch spreads along the top of his jogging bottoms.
“Oh fu-u-aaaah, we need to find those nappies,” he tells me, disappearing into the bathroom while I rummage through the bags.
Of course, she stirs the minute he’s in the next room, eyes blinking up at me with a yawn and then a groan.
“Are you hungry?” She pretty much latched on the minute they handed her to me, which isn’t surprising with how small she is. She needs all the sustenance she can get to grow. “Especially if you want to be tall like Daddy. Maybe not so tall, just taller than me. But either way, you’re going to be absolutely perfect.”
“I can’t stop saying that freaking word in my head. Perfect, perfect, perfect…everything is bloody perfect, and I can’t stop thinking it or saying it.” Casper walks back into the room with a towel around his waist, still wet from his quick hose down.
I spot some nappies in one of the bags with some wipes and throw them at him.
“I know. I feel like I’m turning into mush, and every time I look at her it only gets worse.”
“Because she’s…perfect, right?”
/> Putting the things down on the bed, he grins broadly at me while he grabs himself some underwear. Casper is so happy that he’s beaming, something my heart struggles to handle with the way it’s thrumming. And if I wasn’t sure before, I am now that I want a long lifetime of these moments with him. No matter what.
“Right,” I laugh along with him.
Before I know it, we’re both standing over her. Awed. Shitting ourselves at the fact that we have to raise this little girl into a decent human being. There’s no one else I could do this with. No one else that I want to stand beside during all the challenges life still has to throw at us.
“You need a name, my sweet baby girl.”
Casper lies beside her on the bed while I finish putting the nappy on her and then dress her in a little bodysuit that is far too big for her.
“Grace is a good name,” he says, the tip of his finger stroking down our daughter’s nose. When it reaches her lips, they pucker before searching it out like it’s her food source.
My heart tightens in my chest at my mother’s name. It is a good name, but it reminds me of all the shit outside of this room, outside of our bubble, and I don’t want to taint our happiness.
“I know you’re sad now,” he tells me, drying the tear that rolls down my cheek. “Because of everything going on and because she’s not here for this, but maybe it’s a way of having your mum be a part of her life.”
“You’re not meant to be sappy, you know that? You’re a killer and…and…”
“You’re a killer too, Trouble.”
A hand reaches out to cup my face while he remains lying beside our girl, eyes roaming over her with pride and unquestionable love. The same way he looks at me. I see that now as I watch him fawn over her.
“Well, what are the other options?” He picks the baby up and shuffles to lean back on the headboard while I climb in beside them.
Once I’m settled and comfortable, he hands her to me for her feed, constantly smiling as he watches us both.
“You’re trouble; we can call her Rebel.”
He grins broadly when I shoot him a glare.
“What?”
“You know what the problem with that is?”
“No.”
“You actually found it funny.”
“There you go. We’re screwed…I’m sappy, and the dad humour is kicking in.” He chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to my temple while our daughter holds on to his finger. “For what it’s worth, she looks like a Grace.”
