Page 76 of The Golden Hour

So when she feels her anger, she also feels the weight of her daughter against her chest, making adorably little baby noises and looking at her like she’s everything.

And she tells Dr. Farah the truth.

“I’m happy,” Honey says with a small smile.

Because she is.

She’s happy, and she’s angry.

She’s sad, and she’s joyful.

She’s hopeful, and she’s terrified.

All of those are allowed to exist together.

But happiness is the strongest emotion of all right now.

Happy to be alive, to be healing, happy to have her family supporting her, and so, so happy to have her daughter safe and in her arms.

The last two weeks have been some of the most difficult of Honey’s life. Some days she wakes up in pain with her incision aching, her belly finally starting to deflate but still sore like she did an ab workout. Sometimes at night she just cries and cries, silently, trying not to wake up her mother or Mason if they’re in the room. There’s not even really a reason to cry. Sometimes her emotions just well up and need to be released.

But things are getting better.

She finally feels semi-human again, able to go to the bathroom and bathe herself. Mason had asked when she needed help. Begged, really. He had looked so desperate to do something useful for her that Honey had considered it for half a second.

Until Dr. Lewis's words pierced her mind and her stomach rebelled at the thought of Mason looking at her changed body with anything even resembling the disgust his colleague had shown it. The plastic surgeon's comment sat heavy in her mind every time her breast was exposed to feed Daisy.

It’s not just that. She just didn’t trust him with herself. Not yet.

So she asked for her mother, as if she were five years old again in the bath. She thought she might feel a little silly or embarrassed as her mother helped wash her, but then thought of Daisy and realized she would do that for Daisy without question.

Honey looks at her mother with a whole new appreciation these days.

Mason has been a father this last week and a half. That’s the best way to say it. He has changed every single diaper. He brings Daisy to Honey when she cries for milk or just cuddles, because their little girl seems to be a cuddle bug, not that Honey minds at all. She feels unsettled if Daisy is not in her arms, or at least in her line of vision. Mason doesn’t make her feel irrational about her clinginess, which she is thankful for.

Instead, he validates her every single time he places Daisy in her arms with a soft, “You need each other.”

He hasn’t even left the hospital, which she would have scoffed at—of course he hasn’t, this is his home—if it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t set foot in the emergency department.

He hasn’t shown any interest in leaving. Truthfully, it's a little unnerving for Honey, who has dealt with Mason constantly checking his phone at home while praying for a trauma he can rush off to with a hasty goodbye. Staying late, don’t wait up texts if she’s lucky. Radio silence any other time.

This is a different Mason. And while she is happy that he is being a father to their daughter, she hates that it still feels too late.

She hates that she had to collapse and almost die for him to finally see her.

And she knows she’ll need to let go of that resentment one day, but it seems impossible right now when it keeps building each day, flaring every time Mason looks at her with that tenderness she had longed for and didn’t receive when she needed it most.

She’s thankful for distractions and things to look forward to.

Like going home in a few days.

Her father, Marlene, and Rob have been busy getting the house together, knocking down a wall that divided a smaller storage room from her old bedroom to create a little nursery space for Daisy. Her mother literally had to show Honey pictures of her father demoing the wall for her to believe it.

Her family is insane, and she adores them.

“That makes me incredibly happy to hear,” Dr. Farah says, smiling at Honey’s answer. “You guys are ready to be discharged on time. But remember, if anything changes, or feels odd, you call me directly. I’ll answer.

“Thank you, Dr. Farah,” Honey says, pushing the words out her suddenly tight throat.