Page 63 of The Golden Hour

Honey hums softly, changing an old song until the melody belongs to Daisy.

Daisy coos softly, unlatching from Honey’s breast with an exhausted little sigh. Honey lifts her carefully, wincing at the pull in her incision, and settles Daisy higher against her chest. Daisy tucks her face against Honey’s skin, and she feels her daughter’s entire body relax.

A gentle knock on the door snaps her head up.

Mason stands in the doorway, just watching them, the softest expression on his face as he meets her eyes. He has been doing that. Waiting. Not just walking into her room like he belongs there. He stands at the threshold and waits for her permission.

It doesn’t soften her feelings, but she does appreciate the courtesy.

“Hey,” he whispers softly.

“Hi,” Honey murmurs, glancing back down at Daisy.

“Can I come in?”

Honey nods and hears his footsteps pad closer. She doesn’t take her eyes off Daisy.

“Do you need me to take her?” Mason asks.

“No,” Honey says.

Alarm rushes through her at the thought of Daisy not being in her arms. It is sharp and animal and completely ridiculous in response to the gentle way Mason asked.

His eyes widen a little, and she shakes her head, making sure her voice is even as she amends, “I’d like to hold her a bit longer.”

Logically, she knows Mason is not trying to take Daisy from her.

Emotionally, she’s a complete wreck and knows she’s maybe a little traumatized.

Her mom’s already been suggesting therapy after this. She’s definitely not against the idea. Not with the dreams she’s been having in the sleep she can get. They had to bring Daisy in from the NICU the first night because Honey had woken up terrified, begging to check that Daisy was okay.

Now Daisy sleeps in a bassinet next to her, but Honey still startles awake, reaching over to check that she is breathing. Her incision always aches when she reaches, but she won’t allow herself to fully rest until she feels the tiny breaths against her finger.

“You hold our girl as long as you want, Honey,” Mason says gently, his lips quirking. “As long as you want. I would say as long as she wants to, but she never wants to be apart from you.”

Honey leans down to kiss Daisy’s little head, half because she cannot get enough of her baby, and half to hide the helpless smile curving at her lips.

The gentle, protective, sweet man she married. The cute boy she met at fourteen with dark hair and big hazel eyes who stuttered when he told her his name. The boy who used to look at her like she hung the moon and the stars just for him. The man who made promises and kept them.

Not Dr. Carpenter, adrenaline junkie, halfway father, sometimes husband.

“This is all I wanted,” Honey admits in a whisper, feeling the love settle in her heart as Daisy’s warm weight presses against her. “To have this bond. Like the one I have with my mom.”

“I don’t think there would have been any other option,” Mason says quietly. “Everyone we meet falls a little in love with you, Honey. How could they not?”

Honey’s throat tightens again at the words. So sweet, so much like the Mason she wanted back, and yet they’re just words.

Granted, he has been acting. For the last three days, he’s been doing whatever she needs. Running to grab a nurse if Honey needed them. Bringing Daisy to her and helping her breastfeed. Helping her sit up and back down. Getting her water and snacks from the vending machines in the doctors' lounge. He watched the lactation specialist like a hawk as she gave Honey instructions.

He’s also been doing the very not-fun baby stuff. He listened to the NICU nurses as they coached him on how to change Daisy’s diaper, and has changed every single diaper since.

Their girl has not been making it easy for him either, as shown by his frequent gagging. Honey had to hide a couple of her smiles at that, especially when Daisy would make that adorable little smile babies do when they have gas, like she’s very pleased with herself.

“Yeah, the first couple diapers are pretty gross,” Heather had told them, chuckling at Mason’s gags. “It helps that she’s such a stinkin’ cutie, huh?”

He’s been doing the action, but he has a lot of action to make up for.

“Your words are nice,” Honey says, kind of bitter, kind of not.