“It was an inane theory.”
“It was how you coped.”
I stood, laying Gracie in her bassinet. I focused on my wife, stroking back her hair, gliding my finger down her cheek. I lifted her chin, kissing her soft lips. “That was all I did before I found you. I coped. Now I live.”
She beamed up at me. “You live well.”
“I do. I have a great job, a bunch of crazy friends who are like family, and the most amazing wife in the world—who today, gave me the best gift I’ve ever received.” I kissed her again. “I’m very lucky.”
“We’re the lucky ones. Gracie and me. We have you.”
“We have each other.” I winked at her cheekily. “I think I may want a few more just like her.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Um, maybe we can discuss that at a later date.”
“Sure. You’re young. We have time.”
Katy laughed. I always teased her about being younger than I was. In truth, although chronologically I had seven years on top of her twenty-six, she was far wiser than I would ever be.
I dropped another kiss on her mouth. “Now, go to sleep. We can go home tomorrow, and I want you to get some rest.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll doze in the chair.”
“The bed is pretty sturdy.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She shifted over. “Lots of room for you and Gracie.”
I paused, pursing my lips in thought. “I might get into trouble. If Shelly returns, she’ll order me out. She already thinks I’m trouble.”
“You are trouble. I doubt finding you beside me will shock her too much.” Her tone changed and became serious. “I would rest better with you holding me.”
That was all I needed. I scooped up Gracie and slid in beside Katy. I lifted my arm, letting her curl into my side with her head on my chest. I tucked Gracie against me and sighed in contentment. Once again, I had my family wrapped in my arms. Katy’s body grew heavy with sleep and soon her even breathing let me know she was resting. Gracie snuffled and squirmed, barely waking despite all the jostling. I was certain she’d be wide-awake soon enough.
I was too wired to sleep. I lay, thinking of the past months. All the love, joy, and laughter my life now contained. All the great moments.
I looked up toward the ceiling and winked.
“You seeing this, Penny? I got your girls—just as I promised.”
I knew, if she were here, she would smirk warmly at me and tell me she knew it all along. She’d say she wasn’t surprised it took me longer to figure it out since Katy was the smarter of the two of us.
With a grin, I tucked my family closer.
She’d be right.Gracie’s cry had barely started, and I was out of bed. I hurried across the hall, scooping up my daughter, and cradling her to my chest.
“Hey, baby girl, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”
She settled against me, her tiny fists moving restlessly on my chest as she squirmed and fussed. I knew the fussing would soon turn into cries—something I couldn’t stand.
Tears never bothered me before. I could watch a woman sob and wail, and the only thing I felt was annoyed. The first time I saw Katy weep, my heart twisted with an emotion I didn’t understand. Soon enough I learned I hated to see my wife cry. It did something—brought forth a protective urge I never knew I had within me. I had to fix whatever was upsetting her, although much of the time it was me causing the problem. Therefore, I tried not to be an ass too much of the time, although Katy liked to remind me it was deeply ingrained in my psyche.
But my daughter—Gracie crying—brought me to my knees. I couldn’t bear the sounds of her shrill cries or the sight of the tears that ran down her face.
“Richard,” Katy’s voice broke through my musings. “You can’t keep doing this.”
I looked up at my wife standing in the doorway. With a smile, she handed me the bottle, and rubbed her hand down Gracie’s back in long, gentle strokes. I moved to the rocker, sitting down, and getting comfortable with Gracie in the crook of my elbow. I tested the milk, then slipped the nipple into her anxious mouth. The sounds of her greedy swallows made me grin. She had a voracious appetite.
“You’d think we never fed her.”
“She has your appetite. And your impatient streak.” Katy stated dryly.
I chuckled. She was correct on both counts.
She sat on the footstool, gazing at me. “We agreed I’d do the night shift. You have to go back to work tomorrow. You need your sleep.”
“I’m fine. She was crying.”
“She barely whimpered. She might have gone back to sleep.”
“I hate it when she cries,” I admitted. “I’d rather get up and hold her.”
“Richard—”
“I know,” I grumbled. I had read the books about letting them self-soothe, and not reacting to every noise. But this was different. This was my daughter.