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I look down at the perfect, alien-looking, crap-covered thing on my chest and bawl. “She’s beautiful.” I sniffle, unable to pull my eyes from her.
“She is, just like her mom,” Brody croaks next to me, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his finger along the baby’s cheek. “We madethat. We made her.”
I nod slowly, still sobbing. “We sure did.”
Looking at him, I frown. “You know, now, we need to name her.”
One thing we sucked at since we found out we were going to have a baby was agreeing on names. And since we didn’t find out what we were having, we had to try to think of names for both genders, which only made things harder.
“What about Iris Collins O’Brien?” He smiles, nodding toward my wrist. “Your wildflower tattoo is iris flowers. And Collins, well, she’s got some pretty badass relatives with that last name.”
I look at my tattoo. “I never knew what kind of flowers these were.”
“I read somewhere that in flower language or whatever, the iris symbolizes love and trust. And if anyone has shown me those two things, it’s you.” He kisses the top of my head. “And if I’m lucky, she’ll be just like her mama.”
Looking at her, I smile. “Iris Collins. It’s perfect.”
“She’s perfect,” he whispers, leaning down and kissing the top of her head before sitting back up. “I never knew I could love something so small so much.”
“Me neither.” I smile, craning my neck up to kiss him. “I think we’re going to do just fine.”
“Me too, baby.” He kisses me once more. “Thank you. For giving me a life that I never even knew existed. Even my storytelling kid self couldn’t have come up with something this beautiful.”
I nuzzle against him, holding her close. And I almost ask him to pinch me because there’s no way life is this good.
We’ve both had pain. Everyone has. But, damn, it seems like it was worth it if it led us here.
The End
