Page 150 of Promised to the Cowboy

My eyes burn. A man can wait his whole life to hear certain words and still not be ready when they come.

I look down at my daughter, at her dark hair and tiny mouth, the fist resting over my heart. “Thanks, Dad.”

He nods once.

I turn to Maggie. “Your turn.”

She gives me a look, then holds out both arms. I pass my daughter over, and Maggie gathers her close with the same surehands that held me when I was this small. The hands that fed me, soothed me, and raised me when my father couldn’t.

“Well, hello there,” she whispers. “Look at you.”

Our daughter makes a tiny sound and turns toward her.

Maggie smiles down at her for all of three seconds before she says, “She’s rooting.”

I frown. “She’s what?”

“Hungry.” Maggie presses one kiss to the baby’s forehead, then hands her back to me. “Take that child to her mother. She needs feeding.”

The door opens before I reach it, and one of the nurses steps out, holding discarded packaging and folded linens. “She’s ready for you.”

I go inside. The room is quieter now. The lights have been lowered, the equipment moved back. Evie is propped against clean pillows beneath a clean blanket, her hair brushed away from her face. She looks tired and pale and beautiful.

Her eyes find us immediately. “Hey, you two.”

I cross the room and sit beside her. Evie holds out her arms, and I place our daughter against her chest, then climb carefully onto the edge of the bed beside them.

Her head settles against my shoulder.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Sore. Exhausted. Hungry.”

“Maggie’s outside.”

“Then I’m saved.” She looks down at the baby. “How did it go?”

“Dad held her.”

Evie looks up. “And?”

“He told me he was proud of me.”

Her expression softens. “You okay?”

“No.”

She smiles. “Good no?”

“Yeah.”

“You happy?” Evie asks softly.

I look at my wife. My daughter. The future gathered in one room.

“I am.”

Our daughter makes a small snuffling sound and presses closer to Evie. I place my hand gently over her back and feel the quick, steady beat beneath my palm.

Her heart.

Mine answers.

Beat by beat.

Day by day.

Still choosing.

Still here.