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I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he was as pristine now as he’d been when he’d stormed in here, shouting orders like he was a general arranging his troops.
I had to figure the family had made a massive donation to the hospital for them to agree to be bossed around by my husband.
What could I say?
Money talked.
“I might drop him.”
“You bench press more than I weigh. I think you can handle seven pounds.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“He’ll cry and Mama will make it all better.” I smiled up at him, aware there were stars in my eyes from looking at Feliks.
My stoic husband appeared terrified.
He’d gone to warzones, had killed more people in real life than most did in a video game, and yet, Feliks scared him.
Swallowing, Eoghan reached down and placed his hands on the swaddle.
Delving beneath Feliks’ neck as he supported his head, fingers curling around it to better brace him, he lifted him up.
For a second, I held my breath.
For a second, I just watched as my husband stared at our baby.
If I hadn’t frozen, I’d never have seen the faintest tremble of his lips as Feliks opened his eyes to stare dazedly at his daddy.
And if I hadn’t frozen, I’d never have fallen head over heels in love with my husband all over again.
Why?
Because, when my OCD-stricken, germaphobe of a spouse bowed his head and pressed his lips to the blood-smeared, gunk-covered forehead of our newborn, that was me—a goner.
