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‘Why?’
‘Remember how panicky you were at the prospect of wearing that maid of honour gown when we were last here? Since then you’ve blossomed into the beautiful butterfly you were always meant to be. And it’s all your own doing.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s Mac’s too,’ she said, sniffing back tears of joy. ‘Anyone can be beautiful when they know they’re loved.’
As she walked down the aisle towards the man of her dreams and saw the love shining in his eyes—and the flare of arousal as his gaze drifted to her cleavage—her heart soared. How could any one heart feel so full and not burst? she wondered.
A week later, sore and exhausted after a demanding twelve-hour labour, Juno had her answer as she watched her husband of eight days hold his tiny baby daughter in his arms for the first time.
‘So what do you think of her?’ she whispered, her voice weary, her heart full to bursting again.
His eyes met hers over the bundle cradled so carefully against his chest, his gaze filled with pride and awe and unconditional love.
‘You did well, Mrs Brody. She’s the most gorgeous baby in the known universe.’ A single frown line wrinkled his brow. ‘Although I may have to give you both a lecture on not missing your cue.’
She laughed, recalling how frantic he’d been when he’d woken up in the middle of the night to find her panting through her first contractions, three whole weeks early.
‘I’m sure I’ll do much better next time,’ she teased, and watched the colour drain out of his face.
‘Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ he said forcefully. ‘It’s going to take a considerable time for my heart rate to get back to normal after this little one’s arrival.’ But then he glanced down at his daughter and grinned. ‘But at least Daddy’ll die a happy man, won’t he, darlin’?’
Juno sighed as she sank into the pillows and her husband settled next to her with a besotted smile on his handsome face.
Her heart soared into the stratosphere, but still didn’t burst—and she realised why.
I guess you just get used to being this happy.
