Pressing her hand against the small of her back to ease the discomfort, Anna breathed a sigh of relief that her five-hour shift at the Beanery had less than thirty minutes remaining. Her ability to stand for long periods without suffering any ill effects had rapidly diminished. Now, with a mere four weeks to go until her due date, she considered herself lucky if she managed a full sixty minutes on her feet without having to sit down for ten.
The midafternoon rush had just ended, leaving the coffeehouse in the rare state of being almost empty. Business would pick up again as late afternoon bled into evening, but she would be home by then, hopefully stretched out on the sofa with a pillow behind her back.
Or maybe she’d sit in the oh-so-beautiful nursery and dream.
Anna would never forget the immense rush of emotion that hit her when she’d flipped on the nursery’s light and seen Logan’s handiwork for the very first time. She’d known, instantly, what had driven him to give their daughter a bedroom of flight and fantasy, and she was struck with such overwhelming love and gratitude and peace that her knees had nearly buckled from the force and she’d all but dropped into the lovely handcrafted rocking chair.
She had come so close to sharing her love with Logan that night, to telling him that her greatest desire was to live true to their vows and to stay together. Forever. But as much as she yearned to say those words, she found herself physically incapable.
And really, in the two weeks since, those darn words had stayed clogged in her throat, always right there, so close to being said but never quite reaching her lips. Why? Well, she hadn’t quite decided, but she figured there must be a reason. When the time was right, she’d know, and she wouldn’t face any difficulty in telling Logan all that was in her heart.
“Honey, we need to have a chat,” Lola said as she came around to the back of the counter. “You can’t keep doing this, and even if you think you can, I can’t let you.”
“You’ve confused me, auntie.” Anna started wiping the counter, mostly to keep her lovesick gaze away from Lola’s all-seeing one. “I can’t keep doing what?”
“Coming in here and attempting to work when you can barely stand up straight.” Lola leaned against the counter Anna was trying to clean and angled her arms over her chest. “Now, I know you want to work two more weeks, but that isn’t happening. Today is your last day until after that baby is born,” she said. “And don’t put up a fuss. I’ve made up my mind. Just go home, finish preparing for your daughter and relax.”
Oh, the thought sounded heavenly but, “I’ve finished preparing, and I can’t just go home and sit around for four weeks. If I don’t stay busy, the time will crawl, and it’s already going slow enough.” Anna stopped cleaning and leaned against the counter, next to her aunt. “And it’s smarter to save every penny I can. I need to be ready to move out in a year. Just in case.”
Now, that thought? She hated it. Passionately.
She did not want to move in a year, and she didn’t want to worry about having a divorce-ready nest egg saved, and yes, she wanted their idiotic rules to change. But only if Logan wanted the same, and only if his reasons were true and right.
“Don’t know what you need to prepare yourself for,” Lola said in a somewhat gruff manner. “In a year’s time, you’ll be either living on that ranch in Wyoming or moving back into my house. Either way, losing a few weeks of pay isn’t going to make much of a difference.”
“What are you talking about? There has been zero discussion about living in Wyoming.” And darn if the admission didn’t kick-start her hormones. Anna pressed her fingertips against her cheeks in an effort to halt the flood of tears before it started, to absolutely no avail. “He hasn’t s-said a word, you see, so—so—”
Damn it! She was so freaking tired of crying.
Lola guided her to the sole chair they kept behind the counter and helped her sit. “Why these tears? By all appearances, you’re not the only person in your marriage falling in love.”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.” Anna wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, swallowed a mouthful of air and centered herself. “And how do you know what’s going on? I’ve tried to keep this from you since you were so worried about it in the first place.”
“Well, not exactly this,” Lola said, stroking Anna’s hair off her face. And the action, as simple as it was, offered comfort. “And I’d have to be blind not to see what’s happening. But what do you mean, he hasn’t said a word? In what regard?”
“Just that. He hasn’t said anything about his feelings toward me or if he’s having second thoughts about our arrangement or if he...” Shrugging, Anna pulled in another breath. “I don’t know what’s in his head most of the time, auntie, let alone in his heart.”
“Hmm. Have you told him what’s in your head, in your heart?”
“No, but I want to. I...I keep trying, but something holds me back.”
Concern lit Lola’s gaze. “Now look, whatever is happening between the two of you, only the two of you can define. No one else. But honey, you have to decide if you love him enough to fight for him, and if there’s something holding you back from doing so, then...well, I think you should give that instinct the proper amount of weight. It’s there for a reason.”
And her aunt’s advice was so eerily close to Anna’s thoughts on the matter that she nodded. “I think that’s exactly what I’m doing, but it’s hard. I have these warring instincts, I guess. And it’s difficult to determine which instinct is the one I should listen to.”
“Then I don’t see any harm in letting those instincts battle it out for a little while longer,” Lola said, her eyes kind. “I guarantee that, eventually, one of them will beat the other to the ground, and you’ll know what step is the right step. There won’t be any doubt.”
And those, Anna thought, were very wise words, indeed.
* * *
A pair of cold hands shook Logan’s shoulders, and a sharp, insistent voice yanked him clean out of a deep, dreamless sleep. His eyes shot open, and Anna was standing next to the bed, bent over his prone form. Even in the dim light that poured in from the hallway, he recognized the potent mix of panic and excitement in her eyes, in her expression.
His heart jumped to his throat. “Now?”
“Yes,” she said. “Now.”
“Are you sure?” Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Gave his head a good, hard shake and said, “But honey, Flash is not supposed to come for ten more days.”
“Due dates are not an exact science.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, and her body wobbled enough that she grasped the bedpost for support. “Babies come when they’re ready to come, and Logan, our baby—whose name will never be Flash—is quite insistent that she’s ready. Get out of bed. Get dressed. I...I’m starting to lose it, here.”
Her wavering and wobbling served to shift his brain into high gear. “Right. Okay. How far apart are the contractions? Because if they’re not consistent, this likely isn’t true labor, and honey, I know you’re scared, but let’s remember everything we learned, and—”
“My water broke,” she said, interrupting him, her voice picking up speed. “And I don’t know, because I haven’t timed them, but they seem awfully fast, and...and we need to go.”
He leaped from the bed, wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. And yeah, he was scared, and no, he did not like the pain Anna would suffer over the next many hours, but a thread of exhilaration existed, as well. Soon he would meet his daughter.
Forcing himself to drop his arms, he cupped Anna’s face with his hands and met her frightened gaze with his steady one, saying, “We’re in this together, Anna, and whatever you need from me today, I will do my utmost best to supply.”
“Promise?”
“Oh yeah, baby, I promise.”
She leaned into him for a full five seconds, as if wanting to take advantage of this tiny moment of peace they’d found. Then, “We have to go. Please?”
“Of course,” he said, heading for the bathroom. “Ten minutes and we’ll be on the road.”
“Make it five. If you can. Seriously, Logan.” She stopped, inhaled a shaky-sounding breath. “My bags are by the door, and I’ve already called the hospital, so they know we’re on the way. But hurry. I...just want to get there, where I know she’ll be safe.”
Where they would be safe, mother and daughter.
But Logan did not correct her, just rushed through brushing his teeth and washing his face. He threw on yesterday’s jeans and T-shirt because they were handy, and in five minutes, with Anna’s bags in tow, he was shepherding his wife to the car.
And wow, he was so grateful he was here and not at the ranch, where he’d been for the whole of last week. He’d only just returned that afternoon. The thought of Anna being alone and going through any of this without him was harsh. Worse, even, than the possibility of missing the sound of his daughter’s first breath, her first wailing cry.
In the car, he started the ignition and backed out of the driveway. Beside him, Anna’s arms remained locked around her stomach, and every now and then, she let out the tiniest of whimpers. And Logan wished he could take her pain, her fear, and put both on himself.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Scared. Excited. Overwhelmed.” She shifted some in her seat. “And a little peeved we don’t have a name. She needs a name. An amazing, wonderful, perfect name.”
“I agree, and she will,” he said, kicking himself for not searching through all those baby-name books Anna had left lying around. He’d meant to. “Let’s worry about getting you more comfortable, and then we’ll see what we can do about finding that perfect name.”
“Okay, and...” Anna’s words trailed away, and he could see she was having another contraction. He slid his hand from the steering wheel to grip hers, and she held on tight. When the contraction faded, she said, “Do you think, if it’s at all possible, we could hurry up on the making-me-more-comfortable portion of the night? I really, really like the sound of that.”
“Yep. I’m working on it.”
“Good,” she said in almost a whisper. “While you do, I’m just going to close my eyes for a few minutes, before the next one starts.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan.” Logan turned on the radio but kept the volume low, hoping the music would help Anna relax. Then he focused on the road.
Fortunately, due to the early morning hour, there was almost no traffic to speak of and they encountered only one red light. When Logan swerved into the hospital parking garage, he was somewhat stunned to realize that only thirty-two minutes had elapsed since he’d opened his eyes to the news that his baby was on her way. It was... Well, the word crazy came to mind.
And nerve-racking. Along with absolutely, positively thrilling.
Logan could not wait to meet his daughter. To see what she looked like. To feel the weight of her in his arms when he held her for that first miraculous time. And he could not wait to see Anna’s face the first time she saw and cradled their daughter.
Could. Not. Wait.
That night in the nursery, Logan had realized that his love for Anna was real and true. With a certainty that defied logic, he knew that this love would not decrease or vanish with the birth of their baby. Just the opposite would occur, and the enormity of all he felt would surge in strength and power and conviction. He knew this.
As of yet, however, he had not shared this revelation with Anna.
There were reasons for his hesitation. Good, solid, valid reasons, at that. Mainly, Anna would require time to recover from pregnancy, labor and childbirth, to settle into the role of new mother and to regain a sense of normalcy. Until she had the proper amount of time for all of the above to occur, she would likely feel more vulnerable than her usual self.
Broaching any possibility that would involve extreme change too soon would be taking advantage of this vulnerability. In Logan’s estimation, doing so would prove not only selfish but also dishonorable. And behaving in a selfish, dishonorable manner did not go over well with Logan.
He wouldn’t purposely behave that way with anyone, but choosing his needs over Anna’s, the woman he loved? Never.
So yes, he had good, solid, valid reasons for waiting, and he wished he could pretend that there wasn’t anything more than those reasons behind his hesitation. But there was more. A wall of sorts that he wasn’t prepared to break down as of yet, despite his desire to allow Anna complete access.
He’d figure out what was holding him back. He’d have to. Otherwise nothing would change.
Logan parked the car and pocketed his keys, saying, “Open your eyes, honey. We’re here. Let’s get you inside.”
Blinking, she nodded and waited for him to come around to her side of the car, to help her stand, and his worry ramped up to the next level. Never had he witnessed her this subdued or this quiet. To see Anna in such a way disconcerted him, as it made him distinctly aware of her discomfort and her distress. And he hated that he couldn’t ease either.
The walk through the parking garage to the elevators took them a while because each step brought her pain. So they went slowly. When they reached the first floor of the hospital, he spied a row of wheelchairs. Anna saw them, too. She nodded toward them, and as one, they headed in their direction. The second he had her seated and as comfortable as possible, he made quick work of getting them to the next set of elevators and up to the labor and delivery wing.
Still, she didn’t talk. Not one word.
After what seemed a friggin’ eternity, Anna was admitted and they were shown to her room. For the first hour, there was a buzz of almost constant activity. One nurse gave her an exam, ascertaining the progress of Anna’s labor—she was three centimeters dilated—and another nurse asked her a bunch of questions, took her vitals, put in her IV and hooked her to the fetal monitor. That was nice, being able to hear the reaffirming beat of their daughter’s heart.
Since Anna was not far enough along in her labor for an epidural, she was given a quick-acting drug that the nurse promised would make her more comfortable.
And Lord, was Logan relieved. The nurse was right, as only a few minutes passed before Anna started breathing easier and her posture relaxed.
Scooting his chair to her bedside, he said, “You look like you’re already feeling better.”
“Oh, I am. It’s weird, though, because the pain is still there... I just don’t seem to care as much.” Her lips stretched into a loosey-goosey grin. “I feel tipsy, actually. It’s like the perfect amount of tipsy, just enough where you feel really good but are still in control.”
“Well, if I remember correctly, that perfect tipsy was what led us to where we are now,” Logan said, referring to the night they met. The night their journey began.
“That was a good night, Logan.”
“Yes, Anna, it was most definitely a good night.”
“She’ll be happy, won’t she?” Anna’s hand went to her stomach. “I mean, not all of the time. No one is happy every second of every day. But we’ll give her enough love, enough wonder and magic and laughter, that she’ll be happy more often than she’s not. Right?”
“We’ll do the best we can,” Logan said, answering honestly. “But I think more important than all the rest is love. She’ll have our love, Anna, from her first breath to our last.”
At once, he was struck by her beauty, by where they were and, again, that this life they’d created was raring up to make her appearance. And now that Anna wasn’t feeling so much pain, didn’t seem so frightened, Logan allowed himself to revel in his awe, his excitement.
“You know, the longer I think about it, Flash isn’t such a horrible name,” Anna said, her eyes closed, her words slurring just a small amount. “Because you are right. Flash Daugherty sounds like the cool kid at the school. The one everyone wants to be friends with.”
“Ah... Anna, that’s the tipsy talking,” he said with a grin. No way, nohow would his daughter be named Flash. Now, a son? Perhaps. “And darlin’, you would truly be spitting mad if I were to agree with this decision of yours when you’re in such a state.”
“Then come up with a name, cowboy, because—”
His smartphone beeped from his pocket, interrupting Anna’s sentence and indicating a call. Logan’s heart dropped to the soles of his feet. As of yet, they had not notified anyone they were at the hospital or that Anna was in labor, and it was early for a social call.
Which left one possibility: bad news was waiting to be delivered.
Very bad news, because the everyday sort of bad news could typically wait until a decent hour of the day. And Logan did not want to answer and hear whatever variety of very bad news this phone call would convey. Not ever, naturally. But, please Lord, not today.
Not on the day he was supposed to meet his daughter.
Anna opened her eyes, sat up on the bed. Her pale complexion lightened another degree. “Who could that be? No one would be calling at this time, unless—”
“I know, I know. But I don’t want to answer.”
“You have to. You know you do.”
And yeah, he did know that, so he yanked the phone from his pocket and saw it was his mother. His throat, chest and gut tightened in unison. Yeah. This was gonna be bad.
In the second before he accepted the call, Anna reached for his free hand and entwined her fingers with his and squeezed. Offering support. He looked at her, into her eyes, and kept right on looking when he said, “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“It’s Granddad, Logan,” Carla said, her voice nearly inaudible through her gasps and her tears. Her shock. “He’s had a h-heart attack, son, a real bad one. They’re n-not sure if—if he’ll survive this. I th-think it would be good for you to get here. As soon as you can. Just in case.”
In those initial few minutes, he kept his head straight and asked for more details: what had happened, when, what the doctors were saying, precisely, about Granddad’s condition, and how his grandmother was holding up. Once he had that information, he tried to say the right words, tried to give his mother a little strength and comfort, some peace.
And as he spoke and listened, while his brain absorbed what it could and his heart tried to put up shields against the colossal barrage of emotions—anguish and fury, guilt and resentment—bent on a full-frontal attack, he continued to stare into Anna’s eyes, which were now filled with tears. Because yes, they were close enough that she heard everything.
His side. His mother’s side, including her sobs. Including her pleas for him to get in the car and get to Wyoming, to his grandfather’s bedside, as soon as possible.
And Logan did not know what to do.
He did not know what action was right or honorable or what he could live with, versus what he could not. Leave Anna, miss the birth of his daughter, the baby girl he could not wait to see and hear and hold and...love? Or if Zeke was at the end, if he did not survive, lose the chance to say goodbye to the man who’d raised and protected and loved Logan from the moment of his birth?
How could he make such a choice? What type of a God would force him into making such a choice? No. He did not know what to do. He did not know. And because he did not know, the bombardment of emotion breached his defenses. Logan’s body shuddered, tears escaped and wet his cheeks, and unrelenting, dizzying nausea saturated his gut.
“Go,” Anna said. “It’s okay, Logan. I’ll...I’ll be fine. You need to see your grandfather.”
No.
“Is that Anna?” Carla asked. “Oh, h-honey, is she in l-labor?”
“Yes, Mom,” he said, speaking as clearly as possible. “We’re at the hospital now.”
“Stay th-there,” Carla said. “Your grandfather w-wouldn’t want you to leave.”
No.
An impossible choice. A heartbreaking choice. The most awful choice Logan would ever have to make. And no, he still did not know what to do. He hated not knowing what to do.
Find some strength, man. Make the decision.
But he couldn’t. So he told his mother that he’d let her know his plans when he knew them. He asked her to phone him instantly if anything changed with Zeke. He told her that he loved her and asked her to give Rosalie his love, as well. And then they hung up.
Logan closed his eyes and breathed. Just breathed. In order to escape from the crippling, blinding haze of his emotions. To find enough peace to think logically.
“You need to see your grandfather,” Anna repeated, her voice once again wobbly. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to do this without you. But you have to—”
Opening his eyes, he said, “No, I don’t. I can stay.”
“But if he dies and you’re not there, you won’t forgive yourself. I won’t forgive myself.” Anna winced, and that told him that her tipsy drug wasn’t working quite as well, and that made him feel worse. “Our baby will be here. You can come back to her.”
Anna’s meaning was clear, and it was one he’d already thought of. His grandfather might not be here tomorrow, but Anna and their daughter would be.
It was, he supposed, the most logical side of an impossible choice. Reasonable and rather obvious. See the person today you might not be able to tomorrow. But the realization of what he would miss—the precious first breath, the earsplitting first cry, taking in the sight of the woman he loved holding their baby girl—hurt more than anything Logan had ever experienced. It was a sickening, engulfing, head-pounding, gut-wrenching, soul-crushing pain.
“I’ll have other firsts with my daughter,” he said, though he hadn’t meant to speak what was in his head. Mostly, he was just trying to coax himself through the god-awful hurt he was feeling so he could get up and follow through. “Lots of other firsts.”
“You will. We will. Her first smile and her first laugh, her first tooth,” Anna said. “Her first step and her first day of school and so many others, Logan.”
Right. But he might not have another with his grandfather. Simple, obvious, logical. Nodding, Logan stood and kissed Anna. Ruffled her hair and kissed her again.
And he came real close, too close, to saying, “I love you,” but managed to swallow the sentiment whole. When he told his woman he loved her, he did not want to be walking away.
“I’ll phone Lola,” he said, his voice heavy. “And Gavin and Haley. You won’t be alone.”
“Just my aunt, please.” Anna stroked his cheek with her palm, her eyes holding pain and sadness, confusion and fear. Hell. How could he leave her? “And if you can, if it seems proper to do so, thank your grandfather for me, for all he did in building you.”
“If I can, I will...and thank you.” Then he kissed Anna’s stomach and said, “Now listen to me, baby girl. I am so sorry I will not be here to give you the greeting you deserve, but know that I...I love you, and I will be back. Just as soon as I can. I will always come back.”
“You need to go,” Anna said, her voice breaking. “Before I... You need to go.”
Logan ran his hand over his face and nodded. She was right. He was making this harder on both of them than he needed to. He was about to say goodbye, to kiss her one last time, when God must have felt sorry for him, because a name popped into Logan’s head. The perfect name.
“I just had an idea for a name,” he said. “What do you think about calling her Scarlett Valentina? Scarlett for your mom, as a play on Ruby, and Valentina for mine.”
“Oh! Scarlett Valentina.” Anna said the name a few times, as if trying it on for size, and then she smiled that smile. “I...love it, Logan. It’s perfect and sentimental and beautiful.”
“Good. I’m glad. I love it, too.” Lord. He did not want to do this. But he knew he had to. “I’ll call as soon as I’m off the phone with Lola, and we’ll talk until she’s here.”
Relief dipped into her gaze. “And I’ll call you when Scarlett has vacated my stomach.”
They looked into each other’s eyes for another second—a second filled with a million unsaid words—and with the reassuring, steady beat of his baby’s heart echoing in his ears, Logan turned on his heel and did the unthinkable. He left his wife and daughter.
And Lord, walking out of Anna’s room almost killed him. Each step held the gravity, the pain, of the sharpest knife slicing into his heart and soul. Both were in shreds by the time he made it to the row of elevators, and he could barely see through his blinding emotions. Somehow, he managed to stab the appropriate button.
But as he waited for the damn elevator to reach his floor, he knew—like he’d never known another truth in his entire life—that he could not do this. Despite the logic of rushing to his grandfather’s side, Logan could not, would not, abandon his wife.
And no way in hell would he miss his little princess’s entrance into this world. He had to be here, to hear her cries and kiss her cheeks and... He had to greet her in person. Just had to.
Logic held no weight in this decision, only the certainty that he had to be with the woman he loved when their daughter was born. So, Logan prayed—hard and fervently—that Zeke would hold on. And then he turned around and hightailed it back to Anna.
“I can’t leave,” Logan said as he entered her room. She startled at the sound of his voice, and the sight of her tears strengthened everything he knew to be true. “Seems you’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”
“But what about your grandfather? What if—”
“Zeke Cordero is about as mule-headed as they get, and there isn’t any way he’s leaving this earth without putting up one helluva fight.” Reaching Anna, Logan tucked her hand into his and squeezed. “There’s no use in arguing, Anna. I won’t leave you.”
Crying, but he thought—hoped—in happiness, she nodded. “Okay, then, cowboy. Let’s have a baby.”
A good many hours later, that was precisely what they did. It was a beautiful, miraculous moment. Bigger and bolder and crazier than Logan could have ever imagined. And he was so grateful, so humbled, to be there for his baby girl’s birth.
But that did not make it any easier to kiss mother and daughter goodbye, to get in his car and finally start the trek to Wyoming. The entire drive there, he prayed that he wasn’t too late, that Zeke would pull through the crisis and that Logan would soon be able to return to his family. To Anna and Scarlett.
* * *
With the utmost care, Anna untucked and unfolded the hospital blanket from around her newborn’s tiny, flawless body. She had this need to look at Scarlett again, to count her ten beautiful little toes and feel the sweet softness of her skin and kiss the top of her downy head.
Anna hadn’t known that such an overpowering, fulfilling type of love existed until the first second she held and looked at her daughter. And oh, was this little one a beauty, even if she did say so herself. Her daughter had brown eyes—like Anna’s—and silky golden-brown hair that she suspected would eventually darken to the same shade as Logan’s.
She had a cute, perky nose that reminded Anna of her mother’s and fingers that were long and slender exactly as Logan’s were. She thought Scarlett’s mouth was the same as Logan’s mom’s, but it was too soon to tell for sure. Regardless, Scarlett Valentina was simply lovely.
Her entrance into this world, however, was not as easy as Anna would’ve preferred. For such a rushed beginning, her darling daughter had taken her time being born, almost as if she knew her father would then have to leave and therefore was trying to delay the inevitable.
Under the circumstances, that was impossible, but Anna’s amazement and gratitude for Logan’s decision to stay with her, for as long as he could, hadn’t diminished. Just thinking about those awful, awful minutes directly after his initial exit from her hospital room brought back the excruciating pain she had felt.
Oh, she’d truly believed that he had to go. There really was not another option, and Anna had meant every word she said to help him find the strength to leave. But there was a chunk of her heart—a selfish, no-good chunk—that had so wanted him to stay.
But then he shocked her by coming back and insisting that he would not leave her side. And he hadn’t. From that minute on, he’d focused every ounce of his attention and care on her, on her comfort and her needs, and her relief had been profound.
Logan had held her hand, rubbed her back, whispered or yelled encouragement—whichever was most needed—and cried tears of joy when Scarlett had finally made her grand entrance.
After their daughter’s birth, Logan contacted Anna’s aunt, and Lola had quickly arrived with snacks and smiles and love and excitement. Logan had to leave then. Of course he did, and while it was somewhat easier the second time around, Anna wished their situation was different.
She missed him. Terribly so.
In the forty-eight hours since, she had sent him tons of pictures and several videos to share with his family. Naturally, they had talked some, in between the endless hours he sat at Zeke’s side in the hospital in Cheyenne. Unfortunately, due to the small amount of time they had, the majority of the conversations were short and rushed and unsatisfying.
But since they couldn’t change their circumstances, Anna chose to focus on her daughter. Tomorrow would take care of itself, one way or the other.
Scarlett blinked long-lashed eyes and yawned. She wriggled her body as if to say, “Hey, Mom! I’m kind of cold here. Could you stop gaping and cover me up, please?”
Smiling, Anna wrapped and folded and tucked the blanket around Scarlett, so she resembled a baby burrito, and said, “We’re going home today, and wait until you see the beautiful room your daddy put together for you. We’ll have to take lots more pictures to send him, to keep him going until you two can be together again.”
Hopefully, that day wouldn’t be too far in the distance. For the moment, Zeke was holding his own, though he remained in intensive care. From what Logan had said, while Zeke’s condition was still touch and go, the doctors were speaking in more positive terms about the potential for recovery. There was hope, at least.
Anna prayed that Zeke would grow stronger, would recover as much as possible, and return to his crotchety, cantankerous self. For his and his family’s sake, and so Logan could come home and bond with their precious daughter. And for one additional reason, as well.
She’d very much like Zeke to know—in all good humor, of course—that her impractically narrow hips had produced an eight-pound, thirteen-ounce, twenty-one-and-a-half-inch-tall baby. Not puny, just...beautifully perfect.