Page 153 of Call You Mine
“How are you feeling?” Rumi asks, her hand going to Ava’s shoulder.
“Tired,” Ava answers, looking down at our daughter. “But I’m good.”
“Well, we’ll give you guys some privacy. We just wanted to see you two before we headed home,” Rumi says, her eyes not leaving the baby sleeping in Ava’s arms.
“We’ll be back later,” Emerson says. “Let me know if you guys need anything.” She looks to Georgie. “Why don’t youcome with us, kiddo? We can get you some food and some sleep, and I’ll bring you back here tomorrow morning.”
Georgie looks at Ava, who gives her a small nod. Georgie leans down, gently hugging her big sister before pressing a kiss to her hand and lightly tapping it against the baby’s blanket.
“Can you believe it?” Ava asks after we say our goodbyes, and the door closes, leaving just the two of us and our little girl.
I shake my head. “No,” I say with a dry laugh. “I keep looking at her and having to remind myself that she’s real.”
“Me too,” Ava says as she looks back down at our daughter before looking back up at me, and the love I feel for her, for our family, is indescribable. It makes me wish I were a writer or a poet, just so I could put the feelings into words.
“Ava, love,” I start to say, tears flooding my eyes—I’m not even sure I’ve given them a chance to dry since last night. I don’t know if they’ll ever be dry again. “I’m so sorry about not being here when you needed me.”
“Youwerehere when I needed you,” she says as I walk over to her bedside.
I shake my head, wiping a tear from my eye. “I’ll never forgive myself for not being there when your water broke, or the contractions, or the epidural. I swear, love, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
“Anderson,” she says, holding our daughter in her arms. “You did what you thought was best—whatwethought was best. I know you’ll always do anything for your family. For your brothers. Your mom.” She reaches for me, pressing her palm to my cheek. I meet her eyes as she continues, “Me, Georgie, and this one,” she looks down at our daughter before her eyes meet mine again, “weneed you, but not because you take care of it all or put us first. It’s because of who you are.”
I nod, but I don’t know if I’m trying to convince Ava ormyself. I turn my head, pressing a kiss to her hand before taking it in mine. “I don’t deserve you, Ava Montgomery.” I kiss her again, whispering against her lips. “And I still plan on earning your forgiveness every day, for the rest of my life.”
She smiles. “I already forgive you.”
I press another kiss to her lips. “I don’t care.” I kiss her cheeks, her jaw, her nose, her forehead until she’s laughing. “I’m doing it anyway.”
Ava pats on the spot next to her that Georgie was sitting in, and I close the distance between us, sitting down next to her and immediately wrapping her in my arms.
After a few quiet moments, soaking in what it feels like to have these two in my arms, Ava says, “It’s probably time we pick a name for this one.”
“You mean we aren’t going to call her ‘Baby Montgomery’? Here I am thinking it was so unique.”
Ava rolls her eyes. “Anyway,” she says, drawing out the word. “I know we agreed on two names to choose from once we met her, but I don’t know if those fit her anymore.”
I’m exhausted and emotional and probably couldn’t tell you which way is up and which way is down right now, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Not when I have my girls in my arms, knowing my other girl is safe with the people I owe everything to after they got Ava to the hospital and took care of her when I couldn’t.
“That’s okay,” I tell her as she carefully passes our sleeping daughter to me. I like the two names we came up with, but I don’t have a deep connection to either of them. I thought seeing our daughter would help us decide on a name, but I’m too mesmerized by her to really string together a coherent thought. “Did you have something else in mind?” I ask Ava.
When she doesn’t say anything, I look up to find her looking at me. Her eyes scan my face before she looks down at the baby in my arms.
“I know how much you hate the nickname 'sunshine,’” she says, and I’m taken aback by the change in conversation, not sure where she’s going with this.
“Okay,” I say, stretching out the word.
She looks back up at me. “And I really only used it to annoy you.” She lowers her voice. “At least at first.”
My lips twitch. “I know.”
“But I think it fits you more than you know.”
I let my head fall back against the pillows, turning to look at Ava as she does the same. “First the crew at the station, and then you, huh?” I joke.
“You can’t deny that you’re the most positive, easygoing person ever,” Ava says, and I shrug my shoulders, still unsure where she’s going with all of this. “All of this to say,” she continues, her voice taking a more serious tone. “When I saw our daughter, I was so overwhelmed with love, but I was also more terrified than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”
